“What are you talking about? You had no idea. How is me accepting your apology letting you walk all over me?” she snaps, rolling her eyes at me.
Fuck, I shouldn’t find her brattiness attractive, but I do.
“I pushed your boundaries; you are allowed to not be ok with it.” I’m not sure why I am making a big deal of this; I shouldn’t be.She forgave me, but why can’t I just let it go?
“What do you want me to say? That I never want you to kiss me again, or touch me…Because that would be a lie,” she says, except I don’t think she meant to say it, because she snaps her jaw closed and her cheeks flush pink.
“Would it?” I whisper, all authority dropping from my tone as I round the counter, putting just a few feet between us.
She nods, her throat bobbing slightly as I step closer to her. “Yeah,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
I cage her against the counter, my arms coming down on either side of her. She holds her ground, looking up at me, her arms still crossed over her chest.
I brush her hair over her shoulder, dip my head, and start gently kissing her neck. She folds almost immediately, her head falling back as her eyes close.
“Tell me to stop, Sloane,” I whisper against her neck.
“I don’t want you to.”
“Then tell me what you want,” I whisper, nipping her earlobe softly. When I pull away, her eyes are wide, her pupils dilated.
She pulls her bottom lip into her teeth as she looks up at me, our faces an inch or so apart.
I find myself leaning in, unable to resist the pull she has on me. Right before I’m about to kiss her again, the tea kettle fucking goes off, interrupting us for a second time. I growl, going to move, but she stops me.
“I want you to kiss me, Beckett.”
When she doesn’t pull away, I capture her lips in mine for a second time. And fuck, she feels just as good as she did yesterday.
My hands stay planted on the counter at her sides. I don’t want to fuck this up again. Her hands tangle into my tee, and I growl against her lips, using my tongue to nudge her lips open. Our tongues are finally brushing against each other.
She pulls away first, gasping for air. I rest my forehead against hers, her fingers tightening their grip.
“You’re dangerous,” she whispers.
“Why’s that?” I whisper with a small smile.
“Because you make me want things I’m not sure I can have.”
“What kinds of things?” I whisper, my nose brushing along her neck.
“Maybe one day I’ll tell you.” And with that, she turns and makes her tea.
I let her go, shaking my head at her as she pours two mugs, dropping a few tea bags into each.
“Goodnight, Beckett.”
“Goodnight, Sloane.” I echo, as she takes her mug and disappears up the stairs, leaving the one for me untouched.
I’m totallyfucked.
12
SLOANE
Two nights.
That’s how long it’s been since he kissed me. A little over forty-eight hours since I felt his lips against mine. Since he touched me. Since I tasted him.
