Page 29 of Virgin Skin

I stop a few steps away from him, just enough space between us to remind me that I wish there wasn’t any space between us at all. I want to feel his hard, hot body pressed up against mine like it was this morning under the sink… Better yet, the way it was the night we spent rolling around at the motel in a blur of deep, hungry kisses and innocently wandering hands.

“Are you still freaked out that Hero almost caught us this morning?”

Piston stiffens even more, shoving his hands into his pockets and trying to look past me, like if he doesn’t meet my eyes, he’ll be able to lie. But it only takes a second before he meets my gaze, his blue eyes burning with an intensity that makes it harder to breathe.

“There was nothing to catch,” he says gruffly, still all clipped words and rough tones like they’ve been all day. “We were fixing the sink.”

I take another step closer, tugging my bottom lip between my teeth and nodding.

“Right, the P-spot.”

His grumpy mask cracks briefly, his mouth twitching and the corners of his eyes crinkling with a smile.

“P-trap.”

Another step, the gravel crunching under my tennis shoes.

“I know.” I smirk.

“Milo.” My name is a hoarse whisper on his lips, making goose bumps erupt underneath my clothes. “We can’t.”

There are less than six inches between us now, and I can smell the motor oil and lavender scent that always clings to his skin.

“I know,” I say again, breezily, just like when I accepted a ride from him a few minutes ago. “That’s why I figured it wouldn’t be a big deal for me to go to the club with Jag on Saturday night.”

Piston’s expression darkens instantly, like storm clouds rolling in all at once.

“Unless…” One last step and we’re practically touching, nearly as close as we were this morning. The cold air nips at the exposed bits of my skin, but I hardly feel it through the heat radiating between us. “You don’twantme to go.”

A low growl rumbles in Piston’s throat, and he snakes both arms around me, yanking me the last few millimeters to him. Our chests collide just a second before he slams his lips into mine. That night at the motel, he was gentle, polite. Passionate, yeah, but careful with me like he wasn’t sure what he was allowed to do, or even what hewantedto do with me. But this kiss is rough and claiming. He forces my lips apart with his tongue and licks into my mouth, swallowing the moan that vibrates through my throat.

I grab a handful of his jacket, the buttery, worn leather soft between my fingers. I kiss him back just as greedily, matching the hunger of his tongue lapping against mine, trading sucking bites to each other’s lips around muffled grunts and gasps. My cock thickens and a needy feeling gnaws at the pit of my stomach.

It’s not like I’m a virgin because I’ve been saving myself for marriage or some flowery shit like that, I’ve just had plenty of distractions and other priorities over the years, so it never happened. But right now, I can’t think of anything better than having Piston as my first everything. I want his hands on every part of me that no one else has ever touched. I want him to make me feel things I’ve only read about. I want him to take me apart and make me scream his name until my throat is raw and neither of us can remember that anyone else even exists.

But just as fast as the kiss started, it’s over.

He wrenches his mouth away from mine, a wild look in his eyes, his chest heaving with panting breaths. He yanks his hands off of me like he just touched a hot stove and drags them over his buzzed hair. His lips are swollen from the kiss and still damp, parted with the breaths he’s dragging in. Fuck, I want to kiss him again.

The lust and excitement swirling and building inside of me starts to twist into frustration the longer he stares at me in wide-eyed horror. I huff and take a step back, giving him the space he obviously needs.

“Do me a favor and text Jag that I’m not feeling well? I’ll go pick up the car tomorrow or Saturday or whenever.” I rub my hand over my mouth, trying to get rid of the addictive taste of Piston’s mouth, or maybe trying to rub it in so it won’t fade away. I’m not really sure which. “I’m just going to walk home. I need to clear my head.”

He looks like he’s going to argue, but I turn on my heel and start down the alley before he gets the chance. I don’t want to hear again that wecan’tdo this. Of course we can, we just did, and it was pretty fucking incredible.

I just need to figure out some way to convince him that it shouldn’t matter who my dad is. There’s something between us and it could be fucking amazing. Piston has no clue how stubborn I can be when I set my mind on something, but he’s about to find out.

Chapter 11

MILO

I pull the collarof my jacket up and shove my hands deep into my pockets, replaying the kiss over and over again, which is doing fuck all to convince my dick to chill, but at least it’s keeping me warm. The sun is already starting to go down, and only a few blocks from Ink Slingers, I regret walking away instead of just hopping on the back of Piston’s bike.

My chest vibrates with the loud purr of a Harley and my pulse spikes. I look over my shoulder, but instead of Piston on his teal bike pulling up along the sidewalk, it’s Jag on his hot pink one.

“It’s going to be a long-ass walk to my place.” He has to shout so I can hear him through his helmet and over the roar of the engine.

“Didn’t Piston text you?”

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