And—
Without warning, his lips brush the side of my neck.
It’s a featherlight caress, a whisper of a graze, but I can scarcely breathe. I don’t want to make a sound or move a muscle for fear that he’ll stop.
His hand slides up, long fingers skimming my waist over my sweater. As I stand there frozen with desire, he kisses his way up to my ear, unleashing goose bumps everywhere his mouth touches. His breath is hot over the lobe as my name once again breaks on his lips.
“Blake…”
I force myself to speak, even if it means breaking the spell. “What are you doing?”
“Don’t fucking know,” he mumbles against my cheek. “Want me to stop?”
“No,” I whisper.
The stubble on his chin tickles my jaw, and I tilt my face, desperate for a real kiss, but he denies me. Instead, those hungry lips find my neck again, and I gasp when he suddenly lifts me up on the counter. My ass collides with granite, and then I’m locked in by both his arms, his biceps straining as he hovers over me.
Slowly…achingly slowly…he starts to lower me backward.
My hands instinctively loop around his neck, and heat flares in his eyes when my nails dig into his skin.
He smells so good. I don’t know what that scent is, but I’m desperate to breathe it in. Something a bit spicy, a little smoky, and entirely masculine. His lips are mere inches away. God, I want to kiss him more than I want my next breath.
“This…” He buries his face in the crook of my neck again. “Is a fucking bad idea.”
He’s right. We’re on the kitchen counter in his parents’ house. Atany moment, someone could come downstairs and catch us.
But I couldn’t stop this if I tried.
His tongue travels up my neck at the same time as he parts my thighs and steps between them. He presses himself against me, and I whimper at the feel of his long, thick erection straining inside his jeans.
“Are you turned on?” His voice is a low tease at my ear, and his hands are gripping my waist now, slowly dragging my lower body toward his.
“Mm-hmm,” I manage to get out.
“You wet for me?” Breathing hard, Wyatt rolls his hips and grinds against my throbbing core.
I’m shocked by how fast the pleasure builds. How natural it feels to wrap my legs around him and rock my hips to meet his thrusts. And yes, Iamwet for him. I’m soaked. Desperate to tear off my underwear, rip off his jeans, and pull him inside my body. As I claw at his zipper, he grinds harder, and I’m momentarily distracted by the jolt of pleasure that ripples through my clit.
Oh fuck, I’m close to coming.
I tighten my legs around him, straining for deeper contact, for relief, for anything that will ease the relentless ache between my legs.
When his thick erection slides over my clit again, a desperate, throaty moan slips out, loud enough to wake a person or six.
And to finally break the spell.
He abruptly lifts his head, and now he’s peering down at me, eyes wild and hazy. As if realizing what he’s doing, he stumbles backward.
I instantly grieve the loss of his body heat, the wisps of impending orgasm dissipating like a cloud of steam.
“Jesus,” he mutters. “Go to bed, Blake. Please.”
My lips are still tingling, aching for the kiss that almost happened.My body continues to tremble from his chest caging me on the counter and his hard dick pressed up on me.
I stare at him, my heart pounding so hard it hurts. “I don’t want to go to bed.”
Wyatt’s eyelids close for a second, then blink open as he drags a hand through his hair. “Then I will.”
