Page 99 of The Right Kind of Wrong

But Blake was.

And it was confusing. So, so confusing. “I don’t get⁠—”

Blake grabbed Monroe’s hand and marched them past the front of the rental shack, over to the far side and around the corner. The small, weatherbeaten building butted up against a copse of trees, and Monroe suddenly found herself bathed in shade.

It happened quickly then, Monroe only realizing she’d been spun around, her back pinned against the wood, when she found herself looking into Blake’s intense eyes.

A rushed exhale of realization escaped her lips before Blake covered them in a demanding kiss.

Everything else melted away as Blake pressed her body closer, nudging her leg between Monroe’s thighs. It was impossible for her to do anything except open her hips wider, even as she dimly realized where they were. That anyone could walk around the corner and catch them.

But right now, she didn’t care.

All she could think about was how Blake’s hands had worked their way under her shirt with surprising speed, her fingers fanning out against Monroe’s rib cage, trailing across her scorched skin.

Monroe put her hands in Blake’s back pockets, pulling her closer, so that Blake was forced up onto her tiptoes.

“Blake,” Monroe rasped out when she shifted her lips down to Monroe’s neck, placing wet, open-mouthed kisses anywhere that she could reach.

“Tell me that this is okay,” Blake purred against her neck, her hands sliding upward, cupping Monroe’s breasts. “Tell me that you want this, too.”

Want this? Monroe might die without this.

She didn’t know what had gotten into Blake, but Monroe felt like she was being explored like Blake was laying claim to a new land. Curiosity and need and desire all mingled together into something so potent, it had pushed Blake to take control of the situation between the two of them, and Monroe was left with the most intense feeling that she’d been starving for a touch like this—for Blake’s touch—far longer than she’d let herself believe.

Blake’s hands stilled, and she drew back, looking at Monroe, who found her voice long enough to say, “What is happening right now?”

Her clit was already throbbing, and when Blake shifted her leg even the slightest bit, electricity shot straight through her. She was dazed by her own arousal, and her hips started to cant of their own accord.

“I’m just . . .” Blake bit her lip, eyes intense when she finally admitted, “I came out as a lesbian to Holland this morning, and I just feel so fucking free. I’ve been doing my best all day to distract myself, but when I saw you, it felt like fate. So you can call this my celebration of sorts.”

The words rang in Monroe’s ears as desire continued to pulse through her, even as she tried to rein in her own need.

“And I’m sorry for jumping you like this. You just have that effect on me⁠—”

She cupped Blake’s jaw, so fucking proud of her. “You’ll need to tell me more about how you came to this realization,” Monroe teased breathlessly.

Blake lengthened herself against Monroe again, and every atom in Monroe’s body roared back to life.

Her pulse pounded in her ears when Blake scratched her nails down Monroe’s sides. She shuddered, panting out, “Oh my god,” but it was quickly swallowed up in a kiss as Blake’s lips found their way back to hers.

Monroe couldn’t be sure how long they kissed. Finally, Blake gentled against her mouth, though she didn’t quite stop peppering kisses against Monroe’s lips in between her words. “I just saw you on the bank, and I couldn’t think of anything except this. Except you.”

The words hit Monroe squarely in the chest, and she tried to keep any semblance of control over herself.

Of course she’d been thinking about Blake, too. Every day. Every night. Every goddamn moment, truly, since they’d last seen one another.

But this was . . .

She tipped her head back against the shack, realizing it was a mistake when Blake went to work on the tender place where her neck met her shoulder. Monroe let out a quiet gasp, and in response, Blake moaned against her skin, sending little vibrations through her.

“Blake,” she warned when she felt the most delicious bite against her heated skin, the skittering feeling that flared through her veins almost dropping her to her knees.

Monroe would probably never know where she found the resolve to slide her hands up from Blake’s jaw to her shoulders, easing her back a few inches and then holding her there. “We can’t stay here. I trust Denny to watch Maisie, but god knows how long she’s been holding him underwater at this point.”

Blake gave her the most infuriatingly sexy pout even as she created a sliver of space between their hips, not that it was helping Monroe all that much.

Chest heaving, Blake ran her hands down Monroe’s arms in what should have been a soothing gesture. It only served to make the hairs on Monroe’s flesh stand straight up.