Connor
Her breath faltered, and the stutter of her pulse echoed through her body to mine. I loosened my grip enough to let her move but didn’t let go right away, not until she’d found her balance again.
Those bright ocean eyes found mine and burned deep into me, like she was trying to read every thought I hadn’t said out loud.
I want you. I feel like I might die if I don’t kiss you.
Everything in me was leaning toward her—my chest, my breath, the pull in my gut that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with recognition. Of her, of the last time she’d kissed me.
The space between us kept shrinking, her fingers bumped my chin, and she froze, gaze darting between my lips and then my eyes. A silent question threaded between us, and I knew I had to let her come to me.
I released her wrists from my grasp, even though every instinct I had was screaming to close the distance.
Her breath shuddered out of her as her hands slid higher, no longer just brushing against me but settling against my jaw.Cool fingertips skated across my skin like the chill of the Pacific curling around me before sunrise, and it felt as though the whole world had narrowed to the place where her palms held my face. As if she was securing herself there, steadying something that might otherwise slip away.
She looked at me like that—open, unguarded, a softness in her eyes that undid me far more than any bold move ever could—and I stayed where I was. Her thumbs traced small, almost absent lines along my cheeks, a touch that made my flesh pebble.
I leaned just a fraction closer, my eyes flicking to her lips. Though not enough to steal the moment from her, only enough to let her know that I was right there, that I wasn’t going anywhere, that if she crossed this last inch, it would be because she chose to. Our breaths tangled, warm and uneven, the space between our mouths feeling impossibly thin.
I was hard and wanting, desperate and aching in a way that went far deeper than my body.
She leaned in, her breath dusting against my mouth, and I had to fight the urge to inhale greedily, to take in every bit of the air she was giving me. If she were my life source, I’d let her keep me alive like this.
The first press of her lips was tentative and gentle, nothing like the first. She took her time, exploring me while she hummed quietly with every kiss. Every sound she made blurred my thoughts, until everything felt hazy and unfocused, like I was moving through warm, welcoming fog.
When she pulled back, she didn’t let go of me. Her hands still framed my face like she wasn’t ready to lose connection. Her forehead rested against mine, and the way her breath brushed over my lips again felt just as powerful as the kiss had.
The corner of her mouth lifted in a small, almost shy smile before she drew me back in. I met her halfway without thinking, every instinct in me already attuned to her. Her tongue brushedmine, and I opened, meeting every stroke with another until our mouths moved deeper, and our breathing turned uneven in the quiet of the car. The space between us vanished completely, replaced by a rush that hit fast. My blood surged south, my stomach swooped as if I was falling, and suddenly, I was holding her tighter than I’d meant to. Letting go didn’t even cross my mind.
Every kiss built on the last, each one stealing a little more air, a little more control. I could feel her in everything—the way she leaned into me, the way she refused to break contact for long, the way she kept chasing my mouth. It was intoxicating.
And then her hands vanished and she pushed me back.
“Wait, wait, wait,” she breathed, head falling down. “I want you—”
“The feeling is definitely mutual, Teddy,” I interrupted, licking the remnants of her taste and immediately wanting more. So, I dipped my head to hers again, pressing another kiss on her pliant lips.
“Wait,” she said, smiling, gently pressing her hand to my chest to stop me. “I want you to come upstairs.”
Heat flared in her eyes, and my dick responded with a twitch. I swallowed hard and brushed a stray hair from her face. “Then let’s go upstairs.”
“There’s underground parking here,” she said. “If you turn left, I can open the gates for us.”
She shifted in her seat, and it took me a second to understand what I was seeing—that she was moving closer, not away. The realization bloomed in my chest, like sunlight spreading through glass. My whole body followed suit, warming, loosening, as if something in me had been waiting for that exact choice.
I reached for the gear shift, guiding us into drive, and she caught my hand before I pulled back. Just like that. Her fingersfit over mine like they’d always belonged there, her thumb brushing a gentle, absentminded path across my skin.
That point of contact was made of static, of magic, I was sure. Because my breath went shallow, my grip tightening without permission, something electric stirring in my body, quietly reminding me that I was very much alive. I stared ahead at the dark mouth of the garage and thought, with equal parts awe and disbelief, that I might actually come apart at the seams for this woman.
I followed her direction, easing the car toward the ramp that dipped beneath the building, and the lights dimmed, eclipsing the sun and giving way to concrete and fluorescent lights.
“Code is 6679,” Teddy said.
I typed the numbers into the keypad. The buttons chirped beneath my fingertips, and a second later, the gate shuddered upward with a slow metallic groan.
Rolling forward into the garage, I guided the car into an empty space near the far wall and cut the engine. The sudden quiet wrapped around us.
Teddy didn’t move right away.
