Page 52 of Foster

It’s distracting.

“Minus the cut finger,” I murmur, moving my hand to brush her hair behind her ear, for no other reason than I want to touch her.

“This is it, huh?” Her voice is breathy and expectant.

“Unless you tell me no.”

“Not going to tell you no.”

“Then I’m going to kiss you,” I promise.

For a moment, we just stare at each other. Mazzy waits for me to make the move. I’m trying to figure out the best way to kiss her.

Ultimately, I opt to slide my fingers along the side of her neck, curling them around the back. It lets that gorgeous fall of hair glide against my skin.

Mazzy gasps at the gesture, which is not just intimate, but slightly possessive when I give a light squeeze.

Dipping my head, I brush my lips across hers—nothing more substantive than a ghost’s touch. Mazzy’s breath mingles with mine and my heart pounds. I lift my head just enough so I can see her expression. Her eyes are closed but they flutter open, a mesmerizing blend of nerves and excitement swirling in those green depths.

I kiss her again and this time when our lips touch, I feel a surge of warmth, a profound connection that sends a shiver down my spine. Mazzy’s mouth opens to mine with the barest of tentative pressure from me and I begin a slow exploration.

Mazzy makes a tiny sound in the back of her throat, and I could be reading into it, but it sounds needy.

I’m electrified by her reaction and deepen the kiss by sliding my other arm around her back. I pull her into my body and her hands go to the nape of my neck. Without shame, she presses against me, and my body instantly reacts.

That means I need to slow the fuck down because this is just supposed to be an end-of-first-date kiss and I don’t want Mazzy to see—rather feel—how much she’s turning me on.

I try to disengage but she doesn’t let me pull away. Her hands tighten and she takes control of the kiss, her tongue swiping aggressively against mine. There’s no stopping the groan she pulls from deep within me.

I move my hands to the sides of her head so I can retake control. I nip at her lower lip before I pull back and wait patiently for those drowsy eyes to open and look at me.

When she does—gaze dreamy—I say, “I had a great time tonight.”

“That sounds like the kiss is over,” she replies.

“It needs to be over,” I mutter, bending down and brushing my lips against hers.

In response, she burrows against my body, her belly rubbing against my erection. “I don’t want it to be over.”

“Jesus, Mazzy.” She grins up at me playfully. “You’re buzzed and I’m turned on beyond measure. It’s a recipe for disaster. So get your gorgeous body up the stairs and go to bed.”

“Gorgeous body, huh?”

“It’s among your many admirable qualities,” I assure her.

“Okay… but one more kiss,” she demands. I start to bend down but she amends, “And make it really good.”

I see the flash of her teeth in a wide smile before I bring my mouth down on hers, and I give her a really good kiss. It’s slow but deep, my tongue mating with hers and doing all the twisting, stroking things I’d like to be doing to her elsewhere.

Mazzy’s hands tighten on my neck again and she rubs against me. I hiss because her body glued to mine threatens my control, so I release my hold. With a much-needed step backward, I take her in.

Face flushed, chest heaving, eyes slightly glassy but filled with lust. If it weren’t for those two glasses of wine she had, I’d take her to my room. As it stands, I can’t tell if that dazed look is from a buzz or lust, and I can’t take the chance that alcohol is affecting her reasoning.

“I’m not drunk,” she proclaims. I know she’s not a mind reader, but my thoughts must have been apparent in my expression.

“No, I don’t think you are. But you aren’t completely sober either.”

“I’m sober enough to make adult decisions,” she fires back and steps toward me. I’m not afraid of her and I don’t move, even when she places a palm on my chest. The heat of that touch does nothing to quell the lust rising within me. That confident gleam in her eyes makes it even worse.

---