“Ok,” I whisper back.
We make our way back to the trail, my pulse still racing. When we catch up to the group, Jessica takes one look at us and grins.
“Got lost?” she asks innocently.
“Took a wrong turn,” Kieran supplies smoothly.
“Sure you did,” Finn mutters.
We keep hiking. The viewpoint is supposedly another half mile. But fifteen minutes later, when the group stops for water, Kieran’s hand finds mine again.
“Come on,” he murmurs. “There’s a better view this way.”
“That’s not?—”
But he’s already pulling me off the trail, down a smaller path that branches left. The voices fade behind us. Trees close in.
“Kieran, we’re going to actually get lost.”
“We won’t.” He glances back, eyes dark with intent. His jaw tightens, just for a beat. “Trust me?”
“That depends on what you’re?—”
He stops abruptly. Turns. Backs me against another tree.
“What I’m planning,” he says, voice rough, low enough it feels dangerous, “is to kiss you until neither of us can think straight. Unless you want me to stop.”
My heart hammers. “I didn’t say stop.”
His mouth crashes into mine.
This kiss is even less controlled, more desperate. His hands slide under my jacket, under my sweater, fingers spreading across my bare back. The touch of skin on skin makes me gasp into his mouth.
“God, you’re so soft,” he mutters against my lips.
I don’t know what to do with my hands. Theyfind his shoulders, his neck, tangling in his hair. Heat pools between my legs. An ache I don’t understand, don’t have words for. My body knows something my mind hasn’t caught up to yet.
I press closer. His thigh slides between mine and?—
Oh.
The pressure sends a shock of sensation through me. I make a sound I’ve never made before—desperate, needy.
Kieran goes very still. Then his hands tighten on my waist.
“Wren.” My name is a warning. “You need to— We need to?—”
But I shift against him again, chasing that feeling, and his control fractures. His mouth finds my neck, hot and open. His hands grip my hips, holding me against him.
I can feel him. All of him. Hard against my stomach.
Should I be embarrassed? I’m not. I don’t know what I am. Every nerve ending is screaming.
“Please,” I whisper, though I don’t know what I’m asking for.
His breath shudders out. “Sweetheart, we have to stop.”
“Why?”
