Page 52 of Bitter House

“How would I do that?”

He pulls me closer to him until our bodies are touching. “I have a few ideas.” I roll my eyes, trying to regain my composure, and he laughs. “You should know, Vera wasn’t wrong before,” he says gently. “She may have taken some liberties about me saving her life, but…when she said I had a thing for you when we were kids, she was right.”

Lightning zips from my fingers to my toes and everywhere in between. “She was?”

“I had no idea what I was doing when it came to you back then, B, and I regret it every day. But when I told you the other day that I had a crush on someone a long time ago, that I thought I loved her…”

There’s so much meaning hidden behind his eyes, so much weight in the tone of his voice that I feel his emotion in my chest. His gaze rakes over me heatedly, and I can feel it, soft as a caress. “Yes?”

He sighs, cocking his head to the side. “Come on. Of course it was you. You knew it was you.” His words land in my chest, spreading warmth everywhere.

I blink at him. “You never said anything. How would I have known?”

His hand lifts slowly to cup my cheek. “I couldn’t say anything. Believe me, I tried. You were the one girl I couldn’t…I don’t know. Whenever I was around you, I lost it. You have no idea how many times I stood outside your bedroom door with this whole speech prepared, and…every single time, I chickened out. I had no idea what I was doing, but I knew I wanted you, even back then.”

My chest tightens as my gaze falls to his lips. He runs his tongue over the bottom one. “Do you still feel the same way?”

There’s a release of breath that sounds as if he’s been holding it in, like he couldn’t let it out until he finally told the truth. “I never stopped.”

Without thinking, I lean forward, wrapping my arms around his neck. I pull him in for a hug, simple and sweet, until it isn’t. Every part of my body feels every part of his. I can’t breathe. Our skin is fused, our hearts racing. He’s so close and smells so good, and suddenly, I’m forgetting everything else.

When we pull back, he doesn’t let me go far. His eyes fall to my lips and this is a mistake, but it isn’t, and I’ve never wanted anything so much.

His lips take mine gently at first, and then everything flips. His hand goes to the back of my head. It’s possessive and crushing. He backs me into the tree until my body scrapes against the bark, his hands smoothing down my sides and back up like he can’t explore fast enough.

He peppers my neck, jawline, and collarbone with kisses, his body putting constant pressure on mine as if he’s afraid letting me go will break the spell.

“We shouldn’t do this,” I whisper. Even as I say it, my hands slide under his shirt, and he steps back, pulling it over his head.

“Definitely not.” He shakes his head, staring at me as if I’m a mirage or a dream. As if he’s still not sure any of this is happening.

His lips are back on mine in a second, and my heart beats so hard, so loudly, I feel as if I might pass out.

This isn’t the time.

This could all be a trap.

My usual panicked thoughts are there, begging me to stop this, but I don’t want to. I can’t.

He picks me up with force, pinning me between him and the tree again. “Tell me to stop, and I will,” he whispers, “but otherwise, I’m going to take you inside now.”

“What for?” I ask, blinking up at him with desire pulsing through my veins.

He groans from somewhere deep in his throat, looking up toward the sky. “You need me to spell it out for you?” He’s already walking, moving us toward the house.

“Maybe,” I whisper, my voice needy as I drop my mouth to his neck. I kiss him the way he kissed me, tasting his skin. He picks up the pace, pushing us inside through the front door and into the living room. He pins me against the wall, his hands dropping to pull my shirt over my head.

“I want you, B. I’ve wanted you for as long as I can remember.” He sets me down on the ground, trailing kisses down my front. “Your kisses, this fucking body—” He stops, pulling the cups of my bra down so he can pull my breast into his mouth. My body arches off the wall, and I cry out, unable to stop myself. He returns to my mouth briefly, claiming it, then goes back down, his tongue trailing a path from my ribs to my stomach, not stopping until he’s reached the waist of my pants.

“Tell me to stop, or I’m not going to,” he utters, lips hardly moving, dark eyes staring up at me. His touch is light and painfully teasing. I can’t breathe. I’m suddenly sure I might die if he stops.

“Don’t you dare stop,” I say, running my hands through his hair. The air around us is electrified as I pull his dark locks through my fingers.

A wicked smirk crosses his lips as he drags my pants down. “That’s my girl.”

A hot ache grows in my throat. “Then shut up and prove it.”

“My pleasure.” The words on his lips are pure sin.

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