Till Summer Do Us Part(85)

My lips move up to her cheek, to the spot below her ear again, and then back to her cheek, where I reach her nose.

“If you haven’t realized, Scottie, I’m really fucking attracted to you, and I’m trying to give you space. Trying to let you heal.” I kiss the corner of her mouth, causing her to take in a deep breath. “I’m trying to be a goddamn gentleman, but apparently”—I kiss the other corner of her mouth—“you don’t want that.” And then I press my lips to hers, shattering the calm that’s been building between us and twisting our situationship into chaos, because holy fuck, her lips are so soft.

Fucking softest lips I’ve ever kissed in my life.

And this is exactly why I was trying to stay away, keep a healthy distance, because I knew this was going to happen. One taste was all it would take to wake me up and start my craving.

I slide my hand behind her head, cupping the nape of her neck, and cup her ass with my other hand, pulling her in even tighter. Her arms lock around my neck as she kisses me back.

She kisses me back softly, with no urgency, just enjoying the feel of our mouths entwining.

She’s slow, thoughtful, not taking, just receiving.

Which makes me feel even more crazed, even more dazed. Because I’m thrumming inside.

Burning.

It’s as if one touch of her lips to mine was like a bolt of lightning zapping through me, waking me up from a slumber I’ve been in for years.

“Okay, switch,” Sanders calls out as Scottie pulls away.

Jesus.

Slowly, my eyes open as I take in her expression. Her tongue peeks out and wets her lips, making me feel absolutely fucking unhinged.

She gets up from my lap, and before she can walk away, I snag her hand in mine and move over to the next chair. Once we’re settled, Sanders starts the music, and I try to gather myself as my heart hammers in my chest. I pull the card from the side and read it out loud.

“Make out.”

My chest goes heavy as I set the card to the side. Her hand smooths up my chest to the back of my neck, and then she moves her body in close, her breasts scraping against my chest before her mouth connects with mine, but this time, she’s in control.

And this time, she parts my lips, slipping her tongue against mine.

I sigh into the kiss and allow her to control it as I bring my hands to her shirt and slide them under the fabric and right up her back, my palms to her heated skin.

She scoots in closer and tangles her tongue with mine, taking the card incredibly seriously, which creates an inferno between us. And even though we’re in a room where other couples are around us, I can only feel her. I am only interested in her.

Heat builds and builds inside me, lighting me up and making me so goddamn desperate for the next taste, for the next lick, for so much more than just making out.

I want to unsnap her bra and play with her breasts, feel her up like she wanted me to, like she felt me up this morning. I’d drop her down to the ground, bring her shirt over her head, and allow my tongue to wander. To taste her skin, to wait desperately to see what kind of sounds she makes. I’d find myself between her legs, licking, sucking. I want to explore her gorgeous body. Fuck, I want to feel those legs of hers wrapped tightly around me.

With every pass of her tongue across mine, that need grows stronger and stronger as a moan falls out of my throat.

Her grip on me grows tighter.

Her mouth opens wider.

And I take that moment to slip my hand past the waistband of her jeans, where I grip her ass just as Sanders calls out, “Time’s up.”

“Fuck,” I mutter as she pulls away, leaving me in a goddamn daze.

Lazily, I watch as her tongue drags over her lips, keeping her eyes on me the entire time.

Fuck me.

Fuck fucking me.

I’m turned on.

I’m hard.

I’m now desperate for more.

I feel unhinged, and at any point, I might just snap from the need pulsing through me for this woman.

“Next and last chair,” Sanders says.

Clearing my throat, I stand from the chair, adjust myself quickly, and then walk over to the last chair, wondering if this where we end up dry humping. I mean, we’ve built up to that point. I wouldn’t be surprised, and frankly, I’m kind of hoping for it.

“Okay, read your cards,” Sanders calls out.

I reach to the side, grab the card, and then read it out loud as my body buzzes from the kiss we just shared.

“Tell each other your favorite drink.” My brows knit together. “That’s the task? Tell each other our favorite drink?” I look at the back of the card, wondering if this is a trick. Where is the dry humping? Where’s the kissing and fondling? Where’s the “Get naked with your partner and have a good time”? “He’s going to make us go from making out to telling each other our favorite drink? Why?”

“Maybe because you’re parched after making out,” she says.

“Are you parched?”

She just shrugs her shoulders, acting so fucking nonchalant that it actually doesn’t settle well. Because we just made out, tongue and all, and she’s acting like it’s another day in the office. Like our kiss had zero effect on her.

That can’t possibly be true.

Isn’t she buzzing like I am?

Isn’t she ready to move this to the next step?