Page 72 of Racing Hearts

Adrian smooths a thumb across my forehead, down my cheek, until he’s cupping my face in his fingers. “You’re easy to know.”

“That’s not how people usually feel about me,” I say.

“And yet it is how I feel about you,” he tells me.

It hits me deep—a stab of pleasure straight to my chest. My head goes light and I flutter my eyes closed, overwhelmed with the paradox of him, of us. This simultaneous feeling of being completely unsteady even as I feel so safe, like I’m sheltered in the warm cabin of a sailboat tossed at sea. I arch myself into him, and Adrian meets my lips with his. His fingers find the back of my head and my mouth falls open.

This kiss is new. There’s a depth to it, an openness from both of us that I don’t think we’ve ever given each other before. It feels like I’m unlocking a part of myself and he, in return, is opening a new part of himself to me.

Tongues entwining, our lips move in a harmony. My knees fall open wider and I lock myself into him, bringing our chests together until there’s no space left between us. So close I can feel that he’s hard. Heat gathers between my legs. I’m almost breathless and probably wet.

I’m buzzing with impatience. We have only a handful of weeks left. How can I wait even a minute longer?

“Adrian,” I say against his mouth. “This is a next time.”

“It is,” he agrees.

“No,” I say, pushing a hand to his solid chest, forcing him to look into my eyes. “This is a next time.”

His pupils dilate. He swallows. Hard. “Is my desk on the pre-approved list?”

I drag my teeth across my lower lip and Adrian’s eyes follow the movement.

“I think,” I say softly, “that we should throw that list in the trash.”

He inhales. “Damn.”

I try to press back up into him, to draw him down on me with my knees, still hooked around his torso. But he closes my wrists in one hand and holds them tight above my head, pinning me down on the smooth desk.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

Am I? On the one hand, it’s terrifyingly new. But on the other, all we have is the rest of this summer. And if this is what being present means, then I’m all for it.

“All I want is to take every moment with you that I have,” I say.

Adrian closes his eyes and I wonder if what has crossed his face is physical pain. But then his mouth is on mine again and there’s urgency and desire so deep and furious that every swipe of his tongue against mine feels harder and more desperate than the last.

He pushes at my shirt and I tear away his. Our bodies run against each other, skin brushing like silk on silk. One hand on the back of my neck, Adrian gathers one of my nipples in his mouth and runs his tongue over the surface. I gasp as tingles race through me.

He smiles against my skin, and uses his free hand to pry my pants loose, pushing them into a heap at the base of his desk. Even though he’s still clothed from the waist down, the heat gathering between my thighs is throbbing so intensely it’s almost painful.

I tug at his belt and struggle with it for a moment before Adrian clicks open the buckle and sweeps down his zipper. He releases himself and my breath stills.

Well, fuck.

My eyes lift to his face and he’s gazing down at me, pupils blown out, breath hard. I reach for him and he grabs me, hitching my hips up, dragging me forward. He holds himself against me so that all I can do is arch into him, claw at his back.

“Still okay?” he asks as he settles between my thighs, holding back from the place that I want him.

With him this close to me—hovering, stalling—I can barely form thoughts, let alone words. But my mouth manages to verbalize my enthusiastic consent.

“Yes,” I say. “Please.”

Adrian cradles me from behind, guides up my hips to angle them higher. Then he sinks inside me. Pleasure flashes through me so intensely I nearly cry out. Instead, I rise up and sink my teeth into his shoulder, channeling every urge to scream into the press of my lips against his smooth skin. My vision blurs around the edges as he moves deeper, and I nearly gasp from the friction.

Adrian’s hand finds the nape of my neck, long fingers digging into my hair. He tips my head higher and kisses me deeply, tongue sliding over mine. Our chests press together, heartbeats throbbing, and I relax, until it’s no longer too much.

I move once, twice. Sliding experimentally until we’re moving together, finding rhythmic waves. Like somehow, even though this is our first time, we both know just how good it can feel and we’re racing each other toward the top of that mountain. Maybe we also both know that—even without a schedule—there are only so many times we’re going to do this, only so many times in a summer that we’ll touch each other, taste each other, move together.