A small squeak comes from my lips. “Really?”
He nods. “Although what happened today could come in handy.”
I cock my head slightly, confused.
“Every time I think of that asshole leaning over you, in your space, smiling at you, I get pissed.” His eyes darken. “Like he had any right to be there.”
My hands cup his face as I shake my head. “That’s not true. He doesn’t belong there.” I lift onto my tiptoes. “You do.”
And then, I’m pressing my lips against his, kissing him like I’ve been starving for him.
Which I have.
His arms wrap around me, pulling me flush against him. I feel every inch of his hard, muscular body.
One of his hands slides up my back, cradling the back of my head. I moan against his lips, pressing myself closer.
He tilts my head slightly, changing the angle of the kiss like he wants to discover every inch of my mouth.
He pulls back slightly, breathing heavily. “Peyton,” he rasps. “Tell me to stop and I will.”
I shake my head.
He moans and whispers, “Mine,” before his lips crash against mine again.
The kiss is fierce and unrestrained, stealing the breath from my lungs. The world blurs around the edges until everything else disappears. Only he and I remain, suspended in this passion that burns like an inferno between us.
He tastes like sin and salvation. Like something I didn’t realize I’d been searching for.
Although I know it’s dangerous, my hands fist in his shirt, holding him against me like I never want to let go.
He deepens the kiss, his erection dragging against my center at a torturously slow pace. I whimper, my nails digging into his shirt, arching into him.
“Daltyn,” I whisper, breaking the kiss. My eyes lock with his. “Don’t stop.”
His blue eyes are full of promise. “I won’t.”
And then his mouth is on mine, frantically kissing me again. He moves his lips over mine like he’s memorizing them. His hips move against mine, slow and torturous,unlike his mouth. I whimper, grinding against him, needing more.
And then he pulls away slightly, kissing the corner of my mouth before moving to my jawline, then lower, kissing the column of my throat. My head falls back, giving him access. He keeps his hand on the back of my head, supporting my neck, as his tongue glides over my frantic pulse before sucking on the skin. I gasp, my nails digging into the fabric of his sweatshirt, clinging to him.
His teeth graze my skin, and I whimper, goosebumps racing across my flesh. He chuckles, then whispers, “So damn soft.” He lightly kisses over the mark, soothing it, before he whispers, “You’re mine.”
I close my eyes, relishing those words. Even though I know this can’t last, they’re a soothing balm to my aching heart, fulfilling a need I didn’t know I had.
His hand slides lower, moving beneath the hem of my sweater. When he grazes my stomach, a moan slips free.
“You feel like satin,” he whispers, his hand gliding across my sensitive flesh. “So responsive to me. To my touch.” His lips graze my ear, and I shiver again.
Goosebumps erupt over my flesh, liking his words far more than I should. The heat and desire threaded inside them lands like a confession. Like he’s been dying for me for too long.
“I need to touch you. To taste you,” he rasps.
I nod. “Yes. Please.”
I’m not sure exactly what I’m begging for. My body is on fire, and he’s the only one who can extinguish the flames.
I just want him.
