Fucking romantic heart.
“Hey. Everything okay?” Her voice is husky like she’s tired, and I can’t resist anymore.
Can’t hold back.
Can’t stop myself.
I thrust my fingers into her soft hair, take two steps into her apartment while she stumbles backward with me, and then I’m doing what I’ve wanted to do for far longer than I’m willing to admit to myself, and I kiss her.
It’s not smart.
It’s not responsible.
But I have to kiss her before I lose my mind.
She makes a soft squeak, and then she’s wrapped around me, kissing me back, her hands roaming up my arms, over my shoulders, making the skin on my neck pebble up in goosebumps as she strokes up into my hair too.
“You’re not going on a fucking dating app,” I growl against her mouth.
“Okay,” she says back in a breathy whisper, and then I’m kissing her again.
Backing her deeper into the apartment while she parts her lips for me, her minty-fresh tongue touching mine, and I’m gone.
I’m just fucking gone.
Losing myself in Cricket.
This damaged, chaotic, big-hearted, sexy-as-fuck woman who’s invaded my life in ways I’m still not ready for.
My hands roam from her hair down her neck and spine until I’m gripping her thick ass as she presses her belly into my aching hard-on, our tongues tangling and her fingers doing some magic thing to my neck that has my heart thumping wildly and the goosebumps spreading like wildfire over my entire body.
Need.
Her.
Now.
I back her farther into the room until she squeaks into my mouth, and then she’s tumbling backward, pulling me with her as we topple onto the bed.
Her lips are puffy and wet. Her eyes are black holes drawing me deeper and deeper under whatever this spell is that she’s worked on me. Her headband has slid down her forehead.
“You’re not subjecting yourself to any randos who want you for notches in their bedposts,” I growl at her as I push the headband back up into her hair.
Her lips tilt up at the edges as she pants for breath. “Bossy.”
“Not bossy. Right.” Why is her earlobe so delicious? What did she wash her face with? Why do I want to help so badly the next time she gets ready for bed?
She hooks a leg around my hip and makes a soft noise that tells me she likes me nipping at her ears as much as I do.
“We can’t—need rules,” she gasps.
“No randos on dating apps.” Her neck. I have to taste her neck. Suck on it.
Leave a mark.
Mark her as mine.
“For Lav,” she says.
