Another nod from me.
揑 don抰 want you to be out of practice.?His gaze dropped to my mouth and he cleared his throat. 揧ou know, for when you meet the right person.?
揜ight. I don抰 want to be out of practice either.?
A pained expression passed over his face and he closed his eyes a moment, inhaling. His jaw ticked. His skin was so warm, and I wondered what it would be like to press my mouth to his neck, the spot where his neck met his shoulder. Would his skin be warm against my lips? What would his skin taste like? What could I do to make his head fall back, to make him groan?
I chewed my lip. That was all I could think of, now, was making him groan. Hesitation and curiosity arm-wrestled in the corner of my brain while in another corner, embarrassment and desire battled in a thumb war. I drew myself up, summoning a bolder spirit. This was what I had been practicing all this time, right? Asking all those guys out, putting myself out there, embarrassing myself both on the street and on my surfboard, making a fool of myself. And for what?
Because I wanted to be a hot girl. Because I wanted to live a full life.
I swallowed again, watching the curve of Wyatt抯 mouth, noticing the rise and fall of his chest against my hands. My hands tensed, my nails dug into him, and his breath caught.
揝o we should practice.?I lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. Casual, so casual. Like Wyatt.
He frowned like he was torn. He glanced from me to the window, then back to me, then to the bed behind me. My core clenched hard again and I almost whimpered. My underwear was wet. That never happened, and definitely not from standing beside a guy for a few minutes.
I watched his mouth again. I wanted a taste of him. Just one. That would be enough.
You know what? Screw this.
I raised up on my tip toes and pressed my mouth against Wyatt抯。
The first thing I noticed about Wyatt抯 lips were how warm they were. The slow brush of my skin over his, the gentle scratch of his stubble on my chin. His mouth was softer than expected for someone who spent most of his day outside. Kissing Wyatt was like sinking into a warm bath on one of those winter evenings where it rained all day, those days you felt like you抎 never get warm again. I wanted to sink right into Wyatt. I sucked his bottom lip into my mouth and murmured with pleasure.
Up until now, Wyatt had been still, letting me press my mouth to his and test the waters, but the second I made that noise, something in him snapped. He squeezed my wrists.
揊uck, bookworm.?He let out a ragged breath.
揥as that okay??
He growled. He growled. Wyatt. I opened my mouth but he covered it with his.
His mouth worked mine, his hands dropped my wrists, and one hand fisted my hair, tilting my head back. The pull against my scalp made me shiver. He was no longer a spectator in our kiss. His tongue demanded entrance into my mouth and I let him in, whimpering softly as his tongue slicked mine in a glide, lighting up every nerve ending in my body.
He groaned against me, long and low and his other hand wrapped around my back, pulling me flush to him. He tasted me again and again until I was breathless. My head spun. Kisses were supposed to be sweet and loving.
Not like this. Not desperate and needy and demanding and drugging and hot like this.
I looped my arms around his neck. He nipped my bottom lip and the sharp, sweet pinch hit me between my legs. I made a noise, a combination of a laugh and a moan. His fingers loosened on my hair and rubbed my scalp in slow, firm motions, and I moaned against his mouth before his tongue slipped against mine.
I wasn抰 standing on my own, but leaning into his arm, hanging with my arms around his neck, letting him hold me up while he took my mouth.
A ripple of delight moved through me at the idea of Wyatt using me purely for his own pleasure. An image flashed in my mind of his hands on my hips, thrusting into me hard, racing towards a release. My core throbbed at the idea.
揓esus fucking Christ, bookworm, where抎 you learn to kiss like this,?Wyatt groaned against my mouth in between kisses. 揑 thought about you all fucking night. All day. I was going insane, thinking about his hands on you.?His arm that had been around my back, holding me up, slipped lower until he was grasping my ass. My breath hitched again.
My fingers traced the skin on the back of his neck and he leaned his forehead against mine, breathing hard. He shivered as my fingers skimmed higher on his neck, threading into his hair.
揑 love your hair,?I whispered, combing my fingers through. 揔iss me again.?I tugged.
He made a low noise of frustration, his mouth came back to mine, and we were back underwater. His mouth was hungry, starving for me, demanding and needy and I loved every second of it. Nothing else was relevant, nothing else existed except Wyatt抯 mouth on mine, his possessive hands, and those low groans of pleasure and disbelief coming out of his throat.