Page 77 of Between the Lines

“Is it?” His hand finds the notch at the back of my thigh, right by my knee. He pulls me down so I’m flat on my back on the couch. “I don’t think so.”

“It’s unprofessional,” I breathe. He waits, just a second, lips an inch from mine. A pulse of electricity shoots through me at the sweet anticipation.

“I’m so fucking tired,” he says, “of being professional.”

And then he kisses me.

CHAPTER 29

CHARLOTTE

His lips are firm and solid against mine, and my eyes close on instinct. There’s an initial taste of wine, and then it’s just him and me, and my thoughts short-circuit.

He kisses me slowly, like he’s savoring me. Like he’s thought about doing this for a long, long time. With each brush of his lips, warmth spreads through every cell of my body.

That’s the problem with Aiden’s kisses. They’re never enough. They always make me want more—more of him. My hand slides back, and my fingers thread into his hair. I grip on instinct, and he groans against my mouth.

“Chaos,” he mutters, one of his hands finding my waist. The contact shoots another bout of electricity through me. “Tell me this is a bad idea again.”

“The worst,” I breathe. He’s leaning over me, his arm bracing against the couch cushion. There’s so much of him.

His tongue coaxes my lips to open, and then he’s there, too, running it right along my lower lip.

It is a bad idea. We’re already horizontal. It’s too easy to run my hand over his shoulders. To spread my knees just a little more to make him fit better.

His lips move along my jawline down to my neck. Shivers rack me. It’s always been one of my more sensitive spots. His hot breath, the stubble of his beard…

He chuckles against my skin. “This spot, huh?”

“Mm-hmm. Yes.” Despite the couch beneath me, it feels as if I’m floating.

Aiden’s hand glides along the outline of my body. Brushes the curve of my breast, my waist, down to the arch of my knee. He pulls my leg up and notches it at his hip.

Oh.

He’s now settled more firmly against me, and I widen my other leg on instinct. A delicious weight, one that’s warm and heavy, covering me from head to toe.

Lips trace my collarbone. “Damn you, Aiden,” I whisper. My fingers tighten in his hair. Damn him for being so intoxicating, damn him for being who he is.

The tip of his tongue traces the swell of my breasts at the edge of my camisole. Goosebumps explode all over my skin. “Damn me indeed,” he mutters. Returning to my lips, he ghosts his with featherlight strokes over mine. Once. Twice. Three times.

His left hand rests by my hip. Stroking there, so close to where a fire has started to burn. I lift my hips to meet his stoic ones, sturdy right above mine.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs. “Talk to me, Chaos.”

I shift my hips up again. He’s hard. I feel it through the fabric of his pants. What I want ishim. And I want him more than I’d let myself imagine in the weeks prior. More than I should.

But that’s not what I say. “I don’t want to start thinking again. I want to… I want…” My hips rise again, and his hand is so close. I know how good he is with it. How good he made me feel in Utah.

“To come?” He presses his lips to mine. He kisses me for a few head-spinning moments. “Tell me, sweetheart. Do you want to come?”

“Yes. I want you to touch me,” I whisper. The words feel decadent, spoken into his hair.

He kisses down my neck again. “I can do that.” His mouth lingers on my chest while he pushes down the straps of my camisole and bra. There’s already a sliver of skin between the waistline of my sweats and the hem of my camisole, and he plays with it expertly. Strokes back and forth as he kisses the swell of my breast.

My breaths are coming too fast. Dimly, I hear people laughing somewhere. The TV. The wine.Aiden.

He pushes up onto his knees, and I reach for him instantly. He notices, and his lips curve again. The skin on his cheekbones is flushed, and his hair is a mess. “I’ll be right back,” he says and pulls on the waistband of my sweats. “Lift up for me.”

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