Page 36 of Siren's Heart

Millie does the same before grabbing her sweatshirt and flinging it over her shoulder. Then, we step out of the shop and into the alley with laughter on our lips.

Both of us are a mess. Our shirts are covered in muddy water and clay, and she even has a speck of dirt on her face, right next to her nose, that makes her look like Marilyn Monroe.

"Wait a second, you have–" I tell her, pointing at her nose. She tries to wipe it off with the back of her hand but misses it by a hair.

"Is it gone?"

"It’s still there. Wait, let me–" I step close, and even though I’m the one who moved, my breath is stuck in my throat at the sudden closeness.

She tips her face upwards and looks at me, with her beautiful blue eyes brimming with trust. I cup her face with my hand, shuddering as our breaths mingle. Her face melts against my hand, ever so slightly, her breath hitching. My heart beats furiously against my ribs when I see her pulling her lip between her teeth, her eyes dancing over my face.

With my thumb, I gently wipe the speck of dirt away, but I don’t step back. I don't let her go. Because I really don’t want to.

Instead, I place my hand on her hip, resting softly on the smooth fabric of her top as I search her face and find her tentative gaze holding mine.

She's been driving me crazy. I'm a guy; of course, I noticed the way her cleavage popped when she leaned forward to press down on her clay. Of course, her tongue darting between her lips would put pictures of her doing other things with it into my head.

And, of course, the sound of her giggle makes me fantasize about a future together. Makes me wonder what it sounds like just after she’s woken up, what it would feel like if I got to wake up with her in my arms.

She is driving me crazy with desire–with the need to finally kiss her. All I can think about is how sweet those pouty lips must taste and how badly I want to find out.

Kayla's taunting voice suddenly pops up in my head. "Just kiss already."

There's never been a more perfect time.

Her breath falters when the distance between our lips lessens, her eyes widening for a fraction of a second. Before she releases a small sigh and answers my unspoken question by letting them fall closed, her fingertips digging into the fabric of my shirt.

It's like the world around us comes to a standstill, silence falling like gentle snow, and there's just me and her. And then I brush my lips against her unbelievably soft ones, and it's like suddenly, fireworks go off in my belly and sparks ignite behind my eyes.

She melts into me, one of her hands slowly moving up my body as she stretches onto her tiptoes to bury them in the thick of my hair, while mine wanders from her hip to the small of her back, pulling her against me until not even air fits between us.

My tongue taps against her lips, and she opens them with a small, happy sigh. And god-fucking-damnit if she isn't the sweetest thing I've ever tasted. I sigh and can't help but cup her head with my other hand as well, holding her in place as though she might run away.

There is no fucking way I can let her go again. This is heaven. My own personal paradise. Her small body pressing against mine, her sweet scent in my nostrils and taste on my tongue, and the feeling of her soft skin and curly hair under my hands.

I only let her go when I have trouble getting air into my lungs. Even though I’ll gladly drown in her, I’d like to remain alive and let this moment replay in my head over and over again. I curl my hand around the nape of her neck and let myself drink her in.

She looks downright ravished. Her eyes are glossy with desire, her lips kiss-swollen, and her breath blowing against my throat in ragged intervals. I want to take a picture of her, and keep it in a damned locket right next to my heart. Just like this. Drunk with me.

"Wow," she whispers, and I can't help but chuckle lowly.

"Wow, indeed," I answer just as softly. Absentmindedly, my thumb caresses her cheek, wanting to free her lip from her teeth. I might just grow addicted to this. To her taste on my tongue, and the feeling of her curls beneath my palm, her strands dancing around my fingers.

I want to do it again.

Luckily, so does she.

Raising herself onto her tiptoes, she brushes her lips against mine, instantly licking my lips to grant her entrance. Her fingers rake through my hair, making the most delicious shudder move down my spine as I wrap my arm tightly around her middle, the other around her back to bury my hand in her hair.

She pulls me with her until I take a step forward. Then another one. And another one, until her back hits the brick wall, my hand cushioning her impact.

The kiss ends, and she pulls just far enough away to fixate me with a short, heated glance, her tongue darting out of her mouth to lick over her lip, like she’s savoring my taste.

Fuck.

My brain short-circuits, and I lean down, wrapping my hands around her thighs to lift her up. Instinctively, she welcomes me between her legs, locking her ankles behind the small of my back and burying her hands in my hair, as I press her against the wall.

Fuck.

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