Page 27 of Worth the Wait

CHAPTER 10

DESI

He tastes like beer and sex and urgency.

And he looks like how I feel. Tired. Horny. Lost in a sea of wanting to forget. Desperate for the human connection we can each bring the other.

Those were my first and only thoughts when his lips met mine and began their exquisite assault on my senses.

There was no softness, no tenderness—just stripped-down necessity in that first kiss. And the one that followed after that. And the one that is still ongoing as his hands begin to roam up and down the curves of my body. There is no hesitation as they slide beneath the hem of my tank, igniting my skin with the soft scrape of his fingertips against my lower back.

My hands find him too. Up the ridged plane of his chest. Over the strong muscles in his shoulders. To the back of his neck where I thread my fingers through his hair and urge him closer so I can show him how much I want him.

But nothing our hands can do at this moment rivals the conviction of our kiss. He’s a mixture of raw need and desperate desire, and I try to match him kiss for kiss—lick for lick—nip for nip—each touch feeding our urgency to take more from the other. To demand more from the other.

We are chaos as we bump into the wall at my back. All hands and lips and groans and moans, but when he presses my body there, when his hardened dick taunts me in the most deliciously torturous of ways, I know if he’s not going to speed up the process, I sure as hell am.

My hand is back on his cock. It slips beneath his waistband, down past the bristle of hair, and wraps around the smooth, cool hardness of his dick. His body stiffens and he groans against my lips as my fingers play over his length.

Everything about the moment—the feel of him, the sound of him, the air around us that smells one hundred percent of him—only serves to deepen my desire.

And that means I want him now.

I don’t want to think about the flutter or the swoon or how I’ve sworn off men, because right now my body is on fire for his and has thrown caution—that I know will be back shortly—to the wind.

“Reznor,” I murmur against his lips before I rub my thumb over the crest of his cock. I smear precum around as his hand cups my breast and does the same motion over my nipple. “I want⁠—”

He smothers my words with his lips. He silences my request when he touches his tongue against mine. His hands skim down my torso and cuff mine that are pleasuring him.

“No.”

“Rez—”

His chuckle against my lips is laced with so much intention that if I weren’t already aching for him, I definitely would be now. “You’ll get it all right, but like you told me, you only get one chance to make a first impression...and hell if I don’t plan on impressing the hell out of you, Desi.”

My eyes must widen or my body must stiffen or hell if I know, but I only see his eyes daring me to challenge his statement. I only hear our ragged breaths highlighted by raindrops beginning to fall outside.

He wets his lip with his tongue as a ghost of a smile paints his mouth.

“We don’t need this anymore,” he murmurs as he reaches for the hem of my tank top. I raise my arms as he pulls it off. When it clears my face, I love how his eyes widen in pure male appreciation.

“No?”

“No.”

And this time when he steps into me and meets my lips, it’s slow and soft. Sure there’s hunger beneath the surface, vibrating to show me this tempo is as difficult for him as it is for me. But while our previous kisses were like a Molotov cocktail thrown at me already on fire, this kiss is like a slow-burning ember that’s just starting to ignite. My body warms bit by bit, from the center out to my fingers and toes.

With his hands still cuffing my wrists, the focus is solely on our kiss. On the connection of our tongues. On the finesse of his skill.

His lips coax me, brand me, warn me of the promise of what is to come when. I already know without a doubt I’ll take whatever he is going to give me. I’ve not known this sort of...need before. But I want him.

God yes, I want him.

Whereas before I wanted to rip his boxers off and get to the good stuff, the way he’s pouring everything into this kiss—as if this is the end game—makes me want to melt into him and realize that this is the good stuff.

This is...the flutter and the swoon and every damn thing between.

It’s intimate. Reverent. Everything I shy away from and tell myself I don’t ever want.