Tug himback.
I kiss him.
And this time, I’m not that gentle.
Sab
I thought I had Galen’s kiss committed to memory. The brush of his soft lips, the sweep of his tongue. Every shared breath as we’d pressed against each other in snow too damp and wet to be real.
But as we collide and his mouth claims mine, I realise I was very fucking wrong.
This isn’t the sweet, measured,carefulkiss from Figgy Mount. It’s a whole new level, and as his hand finds the back of my neck, holding me in place, he’s pulling me along for the ride.
Galen picks his angle, tilting me to where he wants me, and the perfect pressure of his lips makes my head swim. Heat pours through me in a rising wave. I grip the sweat-damp shirt he’s wearing like it’s a fucking life raft, kissing him back as the same sound that escaped me last time wrenches from my gut again.
I presscloserto him, even though there’s no space left between us, and he makes a rough noise of his own.
Half groan, half growl, it’s almost feral.
Primal.
He wants me.
Fuck.
I want him too.
Enough to let my hands shift from his clothes to the warm flesh beneath his shirt. The smooth skin covering the muscle I’ve been hooked on since he got here. One sweep of my palms and something else gives way inside me. My heart beats louder—I hear it over the distant buzz of the fridge. Feel it in the hardness in the sweats I pulled on after work, and I don’t think about hiding it. Instead, I contemplate the answering bulge in Galen’s groin, and how it feels against my belly as he thrusts up a little, taking advantage of his slightly taller frame.
Big.
Thick.
Merde. I want to touch it so bad. I want to wrap my hand around it the way he is in the thirst pic on his profile, grip tight, knuckles taut. Want that heat in my palm. That weight, and the flex and pulse of him getting harderforme.
And fuck. Do I want him in my mouth? All this time, with him and every other bloke who’s ever turned my head…I haven’t been sure. But with Galen, the sudden errant thought hits deep and low, and has me wondering how it would feel to ease that solid length between my lips. To taste him on my tongue. The way his hips might jerk, his hand guiding my head…
My imagination turns wild.
In reality, I kiss Galen harder and he makes a sound of appreciation and meets me right there, crowding me against the wall before I know what’s happening.
The impact wakes me up to how entangled in each other we are. How brave I’ve got while my thoughts have spun out of control. I have one hand on his face, the other shoved under his shirt and halfway up his spine. And my leg? Well on its way to being hooked over his hip.
How the hell did that happen?
I have no idea, but while I’m kissing him, I don’t much care.
He does, though.
Like he did on Figgy Mount, Galen coils me into a hot and horny mess. Then he pulls back with a rueful grin that looks so good on him, I could fucking cry.
He braces an arm over my head, on the wall. “You’re dangerous.”
Me?Ouais…d’accord. “How’s that then?”
Fuck. I’m breathless.
So’s Galen. He takes a second before he kisses me lightly on the lips.
