He rubs his thumbs against my waist, and his voice is low and husky. “You should really stop putting us in situations where you want to kiss me.”
It’s a joke; I know it is. But it’s more than that. It’s an open challenge. An open invitation.
I lick my lips. The sound is deafening in this rose cocoon. “What about rule number four?”
“What about it?”
“You created it.”
His lips graze the tip of my nose. “Who said anything about breaking it?”
“No one.” My core thrums. My groin throbs. “But it seems like ...”
His lips brush my cheek, sending a shiver cartwheeling down my back. “Like what?”
“Like we might be about to do some breaking.”
Pane exhales, and his breath rolls over my flesh like smoke on a river. “And would that be bad?”
“It’s a rule.”
One that I really, really want to break right now. In fact, all I want to do is rip off my clothes and throw Pane on the floor.
The urge is nearly overwhelming.
But neither of us budge, and Pane keeps brushing his lips over my cheeks, my jaw, my nose, leaving trails of fire burning across my skin.
My knees nearly buckle when he murmurs, “We should go.”
But the roses don’t budge, and neither do we. A thousand thoughts ping in my head.
He’s leaving town in a few weeks.
He’s a great kisser.
You should jump him, Rowe.
That last one came out in Clarice Sinclair’s voice, which is all kinds of wrong.
His lips keep scraping across my cheek, dipping closer and closer to my mouth. I tip my face up to his, and his mouth slides over mine.
It’s just a kiss,the little devil on my shoulder suggests.What could be the harm?
The angel on my other shoulder shakes her head in dismay.Obviously, she’ll be abandoned again, and then we’ll have to endureallthe heartbreak. How long will the pain last this time?
Screw it.
His mouth starts to cross over mine, and this time I’m ready. I angle my lips up, and Pane’s mouth seals with mine. An explosion of sensation flares inside my core, shooting fireworks all the way to the ends of my fingers.
Pane’s tongue lashes against mine. He tastes earthy and wonderful, like sweat and hard work.
When he moans into my mouth, just hearing the sound—that little pleasure from such a grunty man—makes my knees quiver.
I can’t get enough of him.
His hands dig into my waist. My fingers rake through his hair. Pressure builds in my pelvis and I press myself against him, grinding him into the wall. His erection presses harder into me, which turns me on even more, and I grind harder.
Memories of our first kiss flood my mind. If that one was fire, then this one is a towering inferno that reaches all the way to outer space.
