Page 10 of Stolen Moments

“That’s exactly the point.” He reaches up, tucking that loose strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my skin. “Tell me you don’t feel this and I’ll back off. Tell me you’re not thinking about what it would be like if I kissed you right now.”

I can’t. I can’t lie to him when he’s looking at me like that, when his hand is still touching my face, when every nerve in my body is screaming at me to close the distance between us.

“Jackson…”

“Say it, Priya. Tell me you don’t want this.”

The use of my first name breaks something in me.

“I can’t,” I whisper.

“Can’t what?”

“Can’t tell you I don’t want it. Because I do. God help me, I do.”

He kisses me before I can even stop him.

It’s not gentle. Not tentative. It’s hungry and desperate and everything I’ve been denying for weeks. His hand slides into my hair, tilting my head back, and I’m kissing him back with a passion I didn’t know I had.

I’ve kissed guys before. I had a boyfriend sophomore year who was perfectly nice and perfectly boring. But this, this is different. This is fire and need and the complete dissolution of every rule I’ve ever followed.

Jackson’s other hand finds my waist, pulling me closer, and I can feel the heat of his body through our clothes. I press against him, wanting more, needing more, completely forgetting why this is a bad idea.

His lips move from my mouth to my jaw, trailing kisses down my neck that make me gasp.

“Priya,” he murmurs against my skin. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“Since Thursday?”

“Since the first tutoring session. When you got all bossy about molecular bonding, I couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d sound like if you were bossy about other things.”

I should be offended. Instead, heat pools low in my stomach.

“We can’t do this,” I say, even as my hands slide up his chest, feeling the muscles I mapped so clinically days ago.

“We’re doing it.”

“We’ll get caught.”

“Not if we’re careful.” He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark with desire. “I’m not asking for a public relationship. I’m asking for this. For us. In private. Where no one has to know.”

“A secret.”

“A secret.”

It’s a terrible idea. Reckless and stupid and everything I’ve never allowed myself to be.

“Okay,” I hear myself say, and I’m already regretting it.

“Yeah?”

“Yes. But rules. We need rules.”

He grins. “Of course you need rules.”

“I’m serious. No one can know. Not your teammates, not my friends, not anyone.”

“Agreed.”