Page 77 of A Little Tempting

I pull away slightly, letting out a slow, barely controlled breath. “I think you proved your point.”

“Nah, not yet.” He grabs the side of my face and pulls me into him again, nipping at my bottom lip. When he deepens the kiss, my toes curl as his tongue slides along the seam of my mouth, eliciting a moan from me while I bask in the not-so-innocent contact.

Fucking hell.

Slowly, his hands trail down my body. He grips the backs of my thighs and tugs me against him, letting me feel the ridge of his cock through his jeans and against my bare abdomen. I’m not sure when the thick fabric of his hoodie rode up, but it has, and it’s adding gasoline to the fire in my already throbbing core.

A kiss. One freaking kiss. And what do I do? I melt like a stick of butter in a hot pan.

Ripping his lips from mine, he presses his forehead against my bare shoulder and breathes me in deep.

“Now, I’ve proved my point.” The words are muffled against the thick material hanging off my shoulder. “If that isn’t chemistry, I don’t know what is, Thorne.”

“Yeah.” His hair tickles the underside of my jaw as my head bobs up and down, the world still spinning around me. “Yeah, it was…”

“Have you picked your dress yet?” he rasps.

I blink, attempting to convince my brain to work properly. “My dress?”

“For Homecoming.”

“Oh.” I shake my head. “No. I haven’t.”

“Wear something black, will you?”

“What?”

Lifting his head from my shoulder, he stares down at me. “Wear something black.”

“Why?”

“Because I hate black.”

My mind still reeling from our kiss, I ask, “You want me to wear your least favorite color?”

With a slow nod, he squeezes the backs of my thighs right beneath my ass one more time like he’s memorizing the feel of my curves. I hate what it does to both of us. The way it makes his dick twitch against my stomach. The way it makes my knees weak and my body flush.

“I-I don’t understand,” I admit, caught between reeling from possibly the best kiss of my life with his hands still on me and a conversation about dresses when in this moment? I seriously don’t give a shit.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself if you’re in anything different,” he explains. Letting me go, his fingers find the edge of my glasses. He drags them slowly from the glass along the frames to tuck my hair behind my ear. “Especially this color.”

“What color?”

“Aquamarine,” he murmurs. “Fucking hell, Dylan. It might be my new favorite.” He drops his hand to his side. “But a bet’s a bet. And since you’re still hung up on your Cinderfella…” He grows quiet, and I swear he’s about to kiss me again. Shit, I can feel it from the top of my head to the tips of my freaking bare toes. I lift my chin, waiting for him to put me out of my misery, and I think he might.

Cinderfella, who?

“Hey, Reeves! You in here?” a girl calls through the door.

I jerk at the sound, the foreign voice acting like a gavel, solidifying every single reason why kissing Reeves again is not only a bad idea but a freaking terrible one.

“Thanks for the, uh, the demonstration.” I pat his chest, then slip out from where he’d pinned me to the edge of the bed. “And for letting me hide out in your room. I’ll be sure I’m out of here by the time you come to bed.”

“Well, if that wasn’t the most polite way of saying fuck off, I don’t know what is.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Still facing me, he steps back toward the door and dips his chin. “And don’t worry about me coming to bed. I’ll find somewhere else to sleep tonight.”

I want to tell him he shouldn’t bother, but my mouth stays closed as he turns to leave, then spins right back around, snapping his fingers.

“Do you sleep better in the dark?”

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