Page 75 of Maybe You

Oh, no. I’m absolutely not going to reveal any of that to him. I get up and wipe my palms over the back of my sweats.

“It’s getting late,” I say.

His eyes follow my every move.

“In that case we should definitely get you to bed.” His voice has dropped an octave, low and husky now, and my insides feel burning hot.

“You know where to find one?” I ask.

He gets up, all graceful and smooth and prowls closer until the toes of his shiny, black shoes are against my battered sneakers.

“I may have an idea.” His fingertips go underneath my jaw, and he tilts my head up. “My place?” he asks, lips hovering an inch away from mine.

It’s impossible to answer. My mouth is dry, and my throat is thick with lust.

I only manage a nod.

FOURTEEN

The car ride to Sutton’s apartment takes surprisingly little time, which is a blessing, since the air in the car is so thick with dirty promises that I’m beginning to think spending too much time in such close confines without being able to do anything about the desire isn’t healthy at all.

Somehow, the tension gets even thicker once we’re inside his apartment. He throws his suit jacket over the armrest of the couch and pulls off his tie. My eyes get stuck on the hollow of his throat when he opens the two buttons at the collar of his shirt. I swallow hard. Can’t say I’ve ever considered necks particularly sexy, but here we are.

Our eyes meet across the room.

And hold.

He moves across the floor with single-minded determination, barrels right into me, so I hit the wall with an “Oomph” that he swallows as he swiftly slams his mouth down on mine.

It almost feels as if he’s been hungry for me, which makes very little sense and is probably only true in my head. His body is plastered against mine, pressing me against the wall, and I do my best to give as good as I get.

He walks me backward into his bedroom, mouth fused to mine the whole time. The backs of my knees hit the bed at the same time as his tongue enters my mouth. My fingers sink into his hair and his hands are gripping my waist.

It’s hot as fuck.

His mouth is moving over mine, warm and sure and in charge. His tongue dives into my mouth over and over again, and all it manages to do is heighten the tension that’s already boiling over between the two of us until it’s almost unbearable.

I twist my fingers in his hair. The silky strands tickle my palms.

Everything is new and foreign and exciting in a way it’s never been before, and I’m so turned on already that it’s starting to feel like I’m running the risk of coming just from Sutton’s tongue fucking my mouth and his fingers digging into my back, forcing our bodies even more firmly together.

My breathing turns ragged from lust, and my body arches toward Sutton.

He stops kissing me, his breathing just as harsh as mine.

I drop onto the bed and tilt my head back until my gaze locks with his. The air is thick with lust. It crackles between us, audible in every heaved in breath and groan.

But a part of me is still hesitant. The part of my brain that’s prone to sabotage keeps telling me our last encounter might’ve been a fluke, that maybe he’s changed his mind, even if all evidence points to the contrary.

It’s a quiet voice, though. Drowned out by lust.

So fuck that.

I reach out and pull Sutton lower. Tug and pull and wrestle until he’s on top of me. Until we’re so close we’re breathing the same air. Breathing into each other’s mouths. I don’t even know who reaches for the other first, but we’re kissing again, tongues brushing, teeth clashing.

I fumble with the buttons of Sutton’s crisp dress shirt until I have it open, then I slide my hands up his chest, feeling the hard muscle underneath my palms. Years’ worth of suppressed lust is boiling under the surface, so potent that it seems impossible to even feel something this intense.

Sutton’s tongue brushes over mine again and again, and the tension ratchets up even more.

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