I carry her to a short hallway lined with old movie posters. “Starting with whatever retro bedroom is tucked back here. Seems like the right place to continue this.”
Chapter Sixteen
SHAY
OUR MOUTHS COLLIDE with a ferocity that steals my breath.
“You taste so fucking good.” His arms sweep around me as he stands, hoisting me off his lap.
My legs coil around him, locking me to the blazing heat of his chest and the hard ridges of his abs.
Our tongues tangle, teeth scrape, lips pull, and grind. I feel the sharp line of his jaw and the rasp of stubble. Heat spirals in every nerve, setting my veins on fire.
I’ve never felt like this with anyone, like he’s paying attention to every inch of me, like I actually matter.
He tastes so fucking good—too good—, but there’s no pause to say it.
We stumble forward, crashing into the edge of the retro sofa.
“Shit.” His curse is muffled in my mouth.
The momentum throws us off balance, but he doesn’t budge his hold on me. He’s granite. His arms clamp around me, bands of muscle and heat, locking me in place.
Solid.
Unshakable.
He doesn’t slow. Neither do I.
My hands snag his shoulders, grip his biceps, dragging him impossibly close. Mouth, hands, hips—all moving on their own, wild, instinctive.
A storm, raw and demanding, leaving no space between us.
Every other relationship I’ve been in has been safe, predictable, lacking fire. They fade into nothing compared to this. I’m alive in a way I didn’t know I could be.
Then his leg clips the side table.
Wood scrapes.
Metal rattles.
Something tips.
A sharp crash explodes through the room, ripping us apart mid-kiss.
