Love Interest(52)

If this moment is a blind slope, Alex and I are about to stumble over it, incapable now of retracing our steps back to safety.

And outside, the sky thunders like the universe knows what we’ve just done.

Alex’s fingers ghost across my neck, into my hair, tugging, and I grab a fistful of his shirt to pull him closer. Like a drug, I want more. I don’t understand it, don’t get what makes this different from any other kiss I’ve ever participated in, but it just … is.

I make a small, frustrated noise when his hand skates down my side and palms at my butt, and then a much louder noise of turmoil when he pulls his lips off me a split second later and sets his palms on the wall, bracketing my head. He’s panting heavily, staring at the floor, and I’m panting heavily, staring at him.

“Alex?” I squeak.

“Just give me a minute,” he groans miserably. I let my head fall against the wall and watch him out of half-closed eyes.

Eventually, he looks up at me and says, still mostly breathless, “The flowers.”

I blink. “The flowers?”

“Cosmos, you called them.” His voice is hoarse.

“Chocolate cosmos.”

“Right.” Alex nods. I think he’s the one who’s lost the plot this time. “I hate to break this to you, but they’re looking a little worse for wear. You should probably come over right away and water them.”

I bite my lip. Humor is dancing in his dark, stormy eyes.

“Alex, even you are perfectly capable of watering flowers.”

He shakes his head. “I’d do it wrong. It’s got to be you.”

“On a school night?” I stage-whisper.

His voice scalds me. “Don’t make me beg, Casey.”

I’m nodding before I even make a conscious decision to do it.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


The second I walk through Alex’s door his lips catch mine, his hips kiss mine, and there’s another wall behind my back, every thought floating out of my head except for Holy crap this is so good how is this so good. It’s pouring rain outside, and my skin is damp with dewy drops. A crack of thunder makes me shiver, and Alex just laughs, pressing closer.

One of his hands is on my waist, the other skating across my cheek. I’m overwhelmed by his touch, the way it’s both achingly gentle and a contained kind of pressure. Every place he touches me starts a mini-inferno, and I make a noise of surprise as he kisses me hungrier, then hungrier. His mouth slides against mine, warm, firm, purposeful. I feel like I’m getting devoured.

“For the record.” Small kiss, big kiss. “I’ve barely gotten a thing done at work since I learned what it’s like to sleep next to you.”

“No?” I pant.

“No. You are quickly becoming the best distraction I’ve ever encountered.”

“I’m sorry.”

He sucks on the side of my neck and mumbles, “I’m not.”

I start to unbutton his shirt. He smells clean and cottony and perfect, like a rainy vacation rental on your first day.

“Can you describe to me,” Alex rasps, “in a bit more detail.” He’s looking down at my fingers working his shirt open. “What exactly you meant when you said, Other things that follow kissing, on occasion?”

I pause and look up at him. “I meant that I want to have sex with you.”

He nods, staring at my swollen lips. “Thank you for clarifying.”

The next thing I know, I’m being carried to his bed. We land on his sheets in a heap of half-torn-off clothes and newly formed love bites.

More kissing, which Alex seems content to prolong more than any guy I’ve ever hooked up with. Probably because he’s better at it than any guy I’ve ever hooked up with. The way Alex is kissing me puts all other experiences of foreplay to shame, using his teeth and tongue to mark my skin.

“Beautiful,” he sighs, his capable hands rubbing at my waist, gripping it in his palms, moving my body this way and that. Clothes are removed, slowly, lazily, and I feel practically strung out, high off the arousal he’s already managed to induce. My silk pants and small cotton T-shirt are discarded. Alex watches my eyes, waiting for some signal to stop, slow down, speed up, or just kiss me again.

“Kiss me again,” I say.

He smiles easily, his lips a cherry-red color, and obliges for only a moment before he starts kissing down the length of my stomach. I lie there, staring at the ceiling, feeling like I’m the center of his whole universe. Every kiss he presses against me is reverent, every word like a prayer, and I wonder to myself, Is this hotter than it should be because we’re coworkers, or is it really just that hot?

The groan I hear when his lips push against my thigh makes me gasp. His thumb traces the inside of my knee, and it’s everything. There’s a greedy look in his dark eyes I can’t describe as anything other than the most flattering feeling I have ever, ever felt. It flips a switch of confidence inside me; I yank him up and turn us sideways. Biting my lip, I work up the courage to put my hands on him.

This whole experience feels better since we’re sober, but it’s scarier for that reason, too. My knuckles trail down his body, rubbing at his chest, dipping into his waistband. Alex unleashes a strangled huff against my neck. I haven’t touched anyone like this in years. His lashes are stark against his cheekbones as his eyes flutter closed, which I take as a good sign, and he mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like Imagined this.