Page 31 of A Fighting Chance

Fuck.

I rub my fingers over my assaulted mouth, feeling my swollen lips. That kiss was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

He leans back, half on his chair, half on the floor, holding his own mouth like if he doesn’t, something terrible might happen. Like if he doesn’t, the kiss will somehow peel itself from his mouth and escape. His eyes are closed and I don’t know what to do or say. I know what Iwantto do and what Iwantto say, but I’m not sure either would be the right move.

“Maybe we should stop playing,” he says.

“Maybe,” I say.

Another long silence follows. Neither of us says anything. Neither of us moves.

Until he says, “Truth or dare?” He finally looks at me, his face dark, expression full of temptation.

I have to decide now. I have to choose what’s going to happen next. I inhale deeply, steadying myself as I finally pull my fingers from my lips. “Dare,” I say.

His gaze travels over me, from my eyes to my lips, then down my neck and over my breasts and lower. “I dare you to let me kiss you again.”

I watch his jaw tighten, his mouth part. I watch his hands grip the chair he’s halfway sitting in. I watch his entire body silently beg me to sayyes,so I do.

His movements are slow. He crawls over to me, on top of me, leaning my body far back into the bean bag chair and hovering over me. He leans down and kisses my mouth again, this time more gently. Then he kisses my jaw all the way back to my ear, where he licks my earlobe. His lips are soft against my neck and down my collarbone. He looks up at me for a moment before placing a kiss right between my breasts. I feel him start to untuck my shirt from around me.

“What are you doing?” I ask, breathlessly.

“I said I was going to kiss you, Lyla. I didn’t say where,” he says just before pressing his mouth to my stomach and trailing kisses to my hip bone. His fingers linger around the edge of my pants. He hooks them in and my breathing goes haywire. Then his movements pause. “I can stop. Tell me to stop if you want me to,” he says.

I shake my head. I don’t want him to stop. I don’t know what I’m thinking. I should want him to stop but I don’t. I look down at him; the expression he’s wearing is intoxicating.

He tugs at my pants and I raise up just a little so he can pull them completely off. He inhales jagged breaths as his hands cup my hips. He trails a finger over the lowest edge of my stomach, below my belly button. He bites his bottom lip as he looks down at me.

I’m completely naked from the waist down and in a moment where I should feel vulnerable, I feel nothing but alive. My hands cup around his wrists and we make eye contact.

“I need you to say it, Lyla. Ask me to kiss you,” he says. His head dips lower, and he moves his hands from my grasp. They graze my outer thighs, come around my knees and begin to press my inner thighs apart. His face hovers low, his hot breath warming my sensitive skin.

My body shudders in response. But he waits there.

He’s waiting for me.

“Kiss me,” I say.

He shakes his head at me, a sexy smirk teasing me across his face. His fingers begin to trace up the inside of my thighs and I draw in a breath. “No, Lyla. Ask me. Say my name.” He presses his lips together in an O shape and blows his hot breath against me.

My back arches in response. “Gentry, kiss me. Please.” I’m barely able to get the words out. My mind is racing, my heart thumping in my chest. My entire body is a vessel of desire and it wants one thing—Gentry’s mouth.

I hear a growl in his chest as his face disappears. He kisses the center of me gently and I bend toward him. He places one of his large, warm hands on my stomach, stilling me. He kisses me again, and I struggle to keep my breathing controlled. The third time he kisses me, I feel his tongue against me and I whimper. I actually whimper. After that, I’m gone. Lost to him. To his touch and what he’s doing to my body.

His mouth moves against me. He tastes me over and over again and my hand finds his hair, tugging at it, pulling him into me. Somehow, he isn’t close enough. I need him—more of him. As if understanding my urgency, his mouth becomes more aggressive. His hands cup my bottom. I place my hands over my mouth to quiet my moans, feeling a climax mounting within me.

“Wait,” I manage to say. “Wait, please.”

My words stop him. He looks up at me, still caressing my skin with his hands.

“I need you, please. I need you inside me,” I say.

He looks at me, hesitant, like he doesn’t know whether to give me what I’m asking for. “Let me get a condom,” he says. He steps away from me and over to his bedside drawer, pulling out a small package and bringing it back over with him. He stands above me and begins to unbutton his pants.

“Wait,” I say, sitting up and reaching for his hands. I place my hand in his so he can help me up. When I find my feet, I kiss his mouth.

He wraps his arms around me and they trail up my tank top. He pulls away from our kiss and silently prompts for me to raise my arms. I acquiesce, and he lifts my shirt over my head, letting it fall to the floor behind me. His eyes are glowing, lit with lust. He looks down at me and I look away, not wanting to see him seeing me.

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