Page 52 of Serving Bunt

There was no way he could miss the hard line of my cock pressing against his front, threatening to break free. His eyes darkened, zeroing in on my lips. We were barely moving now. Just staring, breathing each other in.

I didn’t overthink it. I had spent too much time overthinking this thing, this pull between us.

Fuck it.

Let it have me.

“Matty—”

I crashed my lips onto his.

Diaz opened for me instantly, his tongue sliding against mine, hot and hungry. One of his hands fisted in the back of my shirt, drawing it slightly up my back. The other cupped my jaw, his thumb stroking along my jawline in a way that made me want to fall to my knees and beg.

That could be fun.

I groaned into his mouth, and he answered with a moan of his own.

Holy hell, this man could kiss. And as a certified kissing expert, I should know.

I’d once read something about a study that said it took about 10,000 hours to become an expert at anything. If that math held up, then I’d logged more than enough time to claim the title. Growing up in small-town Alabama, there wasn’t much else to do on Friday or Saturday night except park somewhere with whatever girl was willing to climb into the cab of my old Chevy.

I’d kissed my way through most of high school and half of junior college. Hundreds of kisses, maybe thousands. Enough that I’d gotten good at it.

But this was different.

Diaz’s kisses put mine to shame. He kissed like he was trying to memorize every inch of my mouth.

But then, just as suddenly, he pulled back.

“Wait,” he whispered, his voice raw.

His forehead dropped to mine, breath coming in short, uneven pants. “What’s wrong?”

There was no hiding the desperation in my tone.

“Last time I kissed you like this, you ran. And I—” His voice cracked. “I don’t know if I can handle that again. I can’t hurt you.”

His words landed heavily in my heart. I cupped his face with both hands, forcing his eyes to meet mine.

“Look at me.” His long lashes fluttered open. “I know exactly what I’m doing and who I’m doing it with. I’m not going anywhere this time.”

He swallowed. “I wouldn’t blame you.”

“Do you know why I panicked?” I kept my voice steady even though my pulse was hammering. “It wasn’t just because of the fanfiction. It was because those stories that you wrote about me, about us—they turned me on. A lot. More than I knew what to do with. And your texts. Fuck. Every time my phone lit up, my heart would race like I was a teenager again. I’d never felt that way before. Not for anybody.”

Diaz’s breath caught. His hands flexed on my hips like he needed something to hold onto.

“And I never stopped wanting you,” I finished. “I still want you. On your knees, on your back, in my arms. Doesn’t matter, as long as you’re mine.”

For a long second, he just stared at me. Then, he let out a shaky laugh that sounded suspiciously close to a sob.

“You’re gonna kill me with words like that, tesoro.”

I tilted his chin up with two fingers. “Live a little longer, kiss me again, and please don’t stop this time.”

His mouth crashed back into mine. Harder, hungrier. Like a dam had finally broken.

I snaked my hands down to grip his ass through his slacks, pulling him tighter against me. Sweet mercy. I had seen his ass a thousand times, but feeling it under my palms was something else entirely.