She quirks a brow.
I lose patience and slowly advance towards her. Even though she seems to be acting cocky and unaffected by all this, I know her pulse is hammering in her neck. I’m close enough to see the skin fluttering at the side of her throat.
I want to pull that area between my teeth.
“Do you want me to prove I’m not disgusted by it?”
No idea where that came from, but the words have already left my lips. I actually said that. Me. Kade Mitchell. Just asked Stacey Rhodes if she wants me to prove I’m not disgusted by the kiss. By… implying I kiss her again? I don’t know.
“Freckles?” I push, seeing her bad-girl image falter as she starts to chew on her lip nervously.
I move closer, feeling warm from my inner panic, and she blurts out, “I’m wet.”
I tilt my head. “That’s very forward of you. Not sure if you know this, but so am I.”
My hair is wet, just like hers. Little drops keep trailing down her body, and they’re fucking with my head.
She stays quiet, but I can see the rage in her eyes. It makes her even hotter.
“You told me to keep going,” I point out, my own pulse racing as I take another step, eliminating even more distance between us. “Or are you going to lie about that as well? We both know neither of us were disgusted.”
Her eyes sparkle, her throat working as I rest my trembling hands on the counter on each side of her.
Stacey lifts her chin. “It was a dare.”
The corner of my mouth curls. “Then I dare you to kiss me again.”
“Your sister might walk in,” she says shakily, and her gaze flicks to the door then to the back entrance. No staff. No people. Just us.
My sister won’t walk in. She’s a lazy bitch, and the kitchen is too far away for her. Anyway, Base will be distracting her with his flirting. He’s probably shoved her in the pool by now.
Drops of water roll down her chest, and I try not to watch as they soak into the swell of her breasts. “Then she better walk back out.”
“She’d kill me.”
We’re both teetering on the edge of this pull, the rope tightening only to loosen again, neither of us making the move, and fuck do I want her to, because I have no idea what I’ll do if she denies me. I’ll go to kiss her and knock teeth or hurt her.
Come on, Kade, I say to myself. She wants to. Just fucking kiss her and ignore how much you’re freaking the fuck out.
“I highly doubt she’d kill you.”
She scoffs. “Um, are you joking? Didn’t you see how mad she got because we were dared?”
“I honestly don’t give a shit,” I say, my lungs burning with pressure. “I’m going to kiss you, and then we’re going to go back to the party, alright?”
Her gaze drops to my mouth then moves back up to meet mine. “Why do you want to kiss me?”
“Because I liked it,” I admit easily, and her eyes widen. “So I need another taste, Freckles,” I say in a low tone, my hands itching to touch her, to run through her hair and tug it until her head falls back, giving me enough access to devour her throat. “Then I’ll leave you alone.”
All she says is, “Fine.”
My chest rises and falls, matching hers. “Fine,” I repeat, fingers flexing on the counter beside her.
I swallow and count to three, but I don’t bend down to capture her lips. This girl has been my obsession for too long, and ever since that night in the tent, I haven’t been able to think about anything else. It’s wrong, and as much as I don’t want to be like my dad, I think I might be.
Who gets this way after one kiss?
Was he this way with my mum?
Am I going to be doomed to pine after this girl forever?
I knock aside all those thoughts as she says, “But…” I watch as she glances at the door again. “Lu…”
She’s worried we’ll get caught. That’s a good thing, right? She wants me to kiss her. I think. I honestly don’t give a shit if my sister walks in. She can fuck off and stay out of this. Whatever this is.
Keep going.
I grab her jaw between my thumb and fingers, and lower my head, my nose nudging hers. “You told me to keep going.”
“I… I did,” she breathes.
My thumb strokes across her chin and the swell of her soft bottom lip. “Will I?”
A few moments pass, and something claws inside my chest, until she finally whispers, “Yes.”
Instead of going for her lips, I press my mouth to her jaw, and revel in the taste of her skin as I trail kisses along her jawline. Feeling her breath hitch, I nip at her, dragging my lips to the erratic pulse on her neck I haven’t been able to stop looking at.
I flinch a little when her palm slides up my naked chest, the muscles pulling taut under her gentle touch. She tries to draw back like she did that night in the tent, and my free hand captures her wrist to hold her there.
Touch is repulsive and unnecessary. I barely hug my own mother. A person openly wanting to touch and cuddle and feel makes my skin crawl. I’ve always been this way, but when Stacey touches me, even if it’s just a hand on my chest or shoulder, it feels different.
Not repulsive at all. But it’s still foreign to me. Unknown. Yet I want to explore it more. I press her palm to my chest, and I don’t let it go.
She must think I’m a weirdo, but I like her touch.
I like how she tastes.
I like the way her breathing stutters as I kiss her neck.
I suck the skin of her throat, bringing it between my teeth. The sound she makes causes me to falter. I’ve never done this before. Never kissed a girl’s neck while releasing her jaw to grab her hair and tilting her head to the side, giving me more access. I don’t know how I even know how to do this. I just… do it.
My eyes screw shut as she brushes her fingers through my hair, the feeling far too intimate and invasive. She catches on and rests her palms on my shoulders as I keep devouring her throat.
A slow rock song is playing now, but all I can hear is her. She whimpers, arching her back as I suck on her skin, and I’m certain I hear my name whispered like a fucking prayer.
I straighten, cup her face between my hands and press my lips to hers properly.
Breathless, we both fall into the kiss, her fingers digging into my shoulders while I lower my hands to her hips, gripping them as she parts her lips, allowing me to run my tongue against hers.
This is the same, yet different.
Before, we had to do it. This time, we’re doing it off our own backs. I’m deepening the kiss and pressing her into the counter harder because I want to. She’s sucking my bottom lip into her mouth and biting it because she wants to.
She doesn’t taste like alcohol. A fruity drink, but definitely no alcohol. I accidentally groan as she sucks on my tongue, and without thinking, I grab the back of her thighs and lift her onto the counter.
We’re kissing again, deeper, her legs parting so I can stand between them until she locks her ankles behind my back, wrapping her arms around my neck.
“We need to be careful,” she says against my mouth, still running her tongue against mine. “Anyone.” Another brush of her tongue. “Can walk in.”
Her bare skin beneath my hands is heated and soft and addictive, and if it was acceptable, I’d kiss her thighs and suck on the flesh until I left permanent marks. I’d lick all the way up to her…