Page 78 of Forbidden Lyrics

I’m kissing Gibson Hayes.

And he’s kissing me back.

Finally.

With my fingers tangled in his dark, messy hair, I slip my tongue between his lips and moan when his unique flavor teases my tastebuds. He tastes like peppermint. Delicious. Refreshing. And so freaking crave-worthy. I tilt my head to the side and taste him again, committing the moment to memory. I’ve been craving him since the second we met, and now that I’ve had a taste, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to go back to only being friends.

I want more.

No. I need it.

“You want me to use you?” He growls against my throat before setting me down on the half-wall. The rough brick scratches my sensitive thighs but only spurs me on.

I reach for his belt buckle and tug him closer. “Yes.”

“You want me to take your innocence?” He shoves my skirt up a few more inches until it bunches around my waist.

“Yes,” I breathe, my fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt.

He bites my neck. “You want me to chew you up and spit you out?”

I throw my head back and give him better access to my throat. “Yes.”

“No matter the consequences?” His teeth scrape along my flesh before he sucks hard.

My eyes roll back in my head, and I spread my legs open, desperate for friction. For him. For whatever he’s willing to give me.

“You should stop talking,” I suggest.

He laughs darkly, then slides his hand between my thighs and thumbs at the thin cotton fabric covering my sex.

“Not one for dirty talk?” he challenges.

“I wouldn’t know.” I roll my hips into him and moan softly. “But you should keep doing that.”

He adds a little more pressure to my core. “Like this?”

“Yes,” I breathe out. My fingers dig into his wrist as he continues his delicious torture. I’ve never touched myself. I’ve never let anyone else touch me, either. But if this is what it’s like, I’m thinking my sister wasn’t quite as dumb as my parents made her out to be.

“You want me to make you feel good?” he murmurs, his tone softer this time while keeping up the same torturous rhythm.

I nod and try to catch my breath, but it’s a wasted effort. Even thinking straight right now is way too much work. All I can do is feel. His fingers toying with my entrance. His wrist tight and steady beneath my hand. His breath brushing against my throat before being replaced by his lips. His teeth. His tongue.

“Gibson.”

“Trust me,” he orders. It isn’t a request, but I’m not sure I’m coherent enough to reply anyway.

Sliding down to his knees, he grips my thighs and spreads me wider before looking up at me with so much heat I’m surprised I don’t burn up on the spot. I bite my lip and try to push away the anxiety pulsing through my veins. I might want this, but there’s a quiet voice inside my head that’s reminding me about what happens when you jump off a cliff.

You fall.

And gravity isn’t always forgiving.

With his gaze on mine, he leans forward and runs his nose along my core. I hold my breath but don’t shy away from him. The heat. The slight pressure. It’s enough to drive a girl crazy, and he hasn’t even really touched me. Pushing my underwear to the side, that same dark swirling need shines up at me in his hazel eyes.

This man might be the death of me.

But what a way to go.

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