The first brush of my lips against his is nothing. A warm, barely there graze that shouldn’t register on any scale of significance.
It registers on every scale of significance.
Leo’s mouth is softer than it has any right to be. He returns the pressure gently, almost hesitant, like even Leo Brennan doesn’t have a strategy for this particular situation.
Good. Welcome to the club.
Then Leo tilts his head, changes the angle, and his hand fists my hair, and suddenly,hesitantis not the word for anything that’s happening.
My lips part against his and his tongue finds mine, and the taste of him floods through me.
His fingers tighten in my hair, and I feel it everywhere, a pull that runs through my chest, into my stomach, and lower, and I want— I just want?—
No. I refuse to be the only one falling apart here.
My fingers twist in his shirt, and I kiss him back hard, teeth grazing his bottom lip, and he makes a rough sound against mymouth. Good. There it is. I want to hear every sound this man is capable of making, and I want to be the reason for all of them.
His jaw scrapes against mine and the heat of him radiates through his shirt. He is so solid, so warm, and I want to wreck him the way he’s wrecking me.
My teeth find his bottom lip again, he retaliates with his tongue, slow and deep, and it’s a good thing we’re sitting because my legs feel weak. I pull him closer by his shirt, and he responds by pressing me back against the planter, his body pinning mine, and it’s still not enough.
Then Leo makes a small sound against my mouth. Not quite a groan, something softer. Surprised.
Everything in me goes still.
His hand gentles in my hair, cradling instead of gripping, and his lips slow against mine, no longer demanding but giving, and this is so much worse than the battle. The battle I could have survived. I could have filed it under adrenaline, under competitiveness, under two people who argue too much finding another outlet. But Leo Brennan is kissing me now like I’m something worth being careful with, his thumb tracing a slow line along my jaw.
When Leo finally pulls back, his eyes are dazed and his mouth is red from kissing. He looks like a man who’s just been hit by something he didn’t see coming.
I know the feeling.
Chapter Twenty-One
Leo
Kissing Archie is all I can think about.
I’ve got lots of important meetings today, but instead of thinking about the due diligence report I’m supposed to be finalizing for a client, or the call I have in twenty minutes to speak with a CEO about his company’s acquisition proposal, I’m thinking about the kiss with Archie.
When we pulled apart, we’d discovered Elizabeth had returned from the restroom and was watching us with a smirk.
I couldn’t interpret her look to know if the kiss convinced her or not.
But I do know it convinced me.
Fuck. I’ve never been someone who obsesses over guys or girls. I’ve enjoyed sex with hookups and friends-with-benefits relationships.
I’ve had good sex. Great sex even.
But I haven’t replayed even my best sexual encounters as much as I’ve replayed that single kiss with Archie.
How soft his lips were. How good he tasted. The way our kiss changed from a battle of dominance to something softer and sweeter.
Archie kicked back into his normal jokey self afterward, and we didn’t say much to each other for the rest of the evening.
And as soon as we got home, we went to our separate rooms.
I don’t know if he was also reeling from that kiss.
