I want to kiss her more than I want to breathe right now, but I also need her to see. I summon every ounce of restraint I have.
“Hold that thought,” I say, reaching behind me for my camera and raising it to my face to take a picture of her. The quiet snickof the image being immortalized sends a thrill through my body. The moment she asked me to kiss her, to give her something that she wanted, will forever be imprinted on my brain, anyway.
I lower the camera, letting it hang against my chest, and step toward her again. Her lips part just slightly, like she’s about to say something, but the words don’t make it past her throat.
I cup her jaw with one hand, my thumb brushing the line where the blue paint meets her skin, and it’s drying and feathering with each stroke I make. “You have no idea how beautiful you look,” I tell her, my voice barely above a whisper.
Her eyes search mine, and I can see the moment she believes me just enough to let herself lean in. That’s all the permission I need.
I close the space between us slowly, so she feels the choice as much as I do. Our breaths mingle first, the faint scent of paint still hanging between us. Then my lips find hers, and every nerve in my body seems to wake up at once.
Her lips are full against mine, fighting for dominance that I push back against. It’s not a soft kiss, it’s full of confirmation of everything she’s just laid there for me. It’s testing boundaries of whatever she is and we could be. I’d expect nothing less from my wild girl.
She tastes like something I can’t name because it’s as complex as she is. Sweet and feminine, sharp and witty, and something I want to have over and over like a gluttonous fool.
When I finally draw back, just enough to look at her, there’s a new flush on her cheeks and a glint in her eyes that wasn’t there before.
Then she says one word that has the power to test all of my will.
“More.”
Chapter twenty-seven
Liv
Thewordisstillon my tongue when he pulls me closer. More. It slipped out before I could stop it, before I could remind myself that wanting him is dangerous. But I can’t take it back now, and the truth is—I don’t want to. My baser instincts are alive right now and filled with him, and I let myself believe that I can have him.
The paint is drying tacky on my skin, pulling every time I shift against him, but it only makes me more aware of every inch of me that he’s touched. My heart’s a wild thing, beating too fast, too hard, like it’s trying to break free from my chest and press itself into his.
I didn’t expect to feel this undone. Not by the one who’s been my anchor since I showed up here with nothing but a suitcase and a thousand cracks I tried to hide. But the second his mouth touched mine, all those cracks lit up like fault lines, and now I don’t know if I want him to piece me back together or break me all the way open.
It’s all too much and not enough at the same time. I want to be the girl who doesn’t care about consequences, who doesn’t second-guess the way his hands fit against my skin. Who deserves to feel again.
I tilt my chin, just enough to meet his gaze. There’s still his trademark kindness there, but also hunger, and it’s the combination that unravels me completely.
He doesn’t make me feel like chaos. I feel seen. Wanted. Chosen.
His camera is still hanging against his chest, the strap brushing my arm, the faint smell of paint between us. As if he notices, he lifts it from his head and sets it aside.
“Jay,” I whisper, and my voice shakes, but not from fear. From the terrifying realization that if he keeps looking at me like that, I’ll never be able to go back to the way things were.
The second kiss is fiercer. I don’t even remember moving, only that one moment my feet are planted on the floor and the next I’m pressed against him, my hands clutching at his shirt like I’ll drown if I let go. The brush slips from my fingers and clatters to the ground, forgotten.
Jay tastes like heat and salt and just him, and maybe that’s why I can’t get enough. Every time his mouth leaves mine, I chase it back, greedy, reckless.
His hand slides into my hair, tugging gently, tilting my face so he can kiss me deeper, our tongues exploring and taking from one another. My whole body is buzzing, wired on the fact that he wants me like this, messy and undone, covered in streaks of blue. When he lets me go, I can hardly breathe.
“More,” I repeat because the truth is, he’s reduced me to one syllable.
The word has barely left my lips before his hand tightens in my hair, tilting my head back just enough that I moan. The soundseems to please him, because his eyes darken and his mouth curves in the faintest smile.
Jay is gentle, always has been, but there’s nothing tentative in the way he holds me now. His thumb traces my jaw, while his other hand slides down to my hip, squeezing just hard enough to remind me who’s in control. It’s not rough, but it leaves no room for doubt.
“You have no idea what you do to me, Liv.” His voice is low, threaded with barely there restraint. “But if you want more, you’re going to let me lead. Let me show you everything.”
The command in his tone makes my stomach clench, heat flooding lower until my breath comes fast and uneven. I nod before I even think to answer.
“Words,” he says confidently. “I need to hear them.”
