Page 49 of All Saints: Pledge

“Ye—,” I manage just before he lowers his mouth to mine.

Despite his speed in closing the distance, our kiss is surprisingly chaste. No tongue. No bruising pressure. Butterflies instead of molten lava. Maybe he’s proving my point. Granting access took the fire out. I should feel relieved. But my body doesn’t relax the way I expect it to. There’s a golden pool of warmth radiating from where his lips meet mine. A low pressure builds as he brushes his lips against mine again. It’s not quite teasing, though there’s an element of it there. It’s…reverent. Like he’s memorizing the feel of me. Like he has all the time in the world.

Frustration builds in me as he molds his lips to mine for a searing brief second before pulling back. I expect to have him delve into my mouth with the same punishing intensity as before. This sweet romance has thrown me for a loop. I’d gone in wishing and waiting for that iron-hot brand of lust to burst into my body. But what I’ve got is a man taking his time, giving me innocent exploratory kisses like we’ve never made each other come in a library.

How can I get him out of my system if he doesn’t burn himself through my veins? Sweet was enough for me with Dominic. Sweet was perfect. Sweet was fulfilling. With Kendall, sweet is just the entry—beyond that is a point of no return my body craves. For a moment, I’m back in that closet. He’d done the same thing. A hesitant brush of his lips first, and a much firmer second pass before he’d owned my mouth and tongue with his. The kiss that had turned my world upside down as a teen. The kiss that had gone from sweet to scorching in a mater of seconds, combustion on dry kindling. At the time, I thought it was simply because this is how he kissed Clara. How he kissed anyone. Now I know better. Now I know this is because I am the perfect kindling, meant for his flame. I’m done with sweet. I’m done waiting, and I’m done hoping to prove myself wrong.

He catches fire as I tangle my fingers in his hair and press him more firmly against my mouth. This kiss takes root in the way I crave, the way he hadn’t allowed it to. And unlike the angry kisses we’ve shared in the past, he’sthere. The whole person. Fully behind it. And I feel a wave of emotion, a wave of caring, a wave of reverentcravingthat should take my breath away, if I had breath left.

My world narrows to a point and expands back out again into starlight. A yawning black hole where all of my sentience goes. And when he growls and leans his weight fully on my body, and my hands tangle in his hair to match his next, more fervent kiss? We tip over into the chasm together, and we’re falling.

I made a grave error in judgement, thinking this would fix everything. All thoughts of contracts go out the window, and I enter into a most dangerous game with relish.

We’ve made aterriblemistake.

23

We go from sweet and tender to demanding in a heartbeat. I relish the way his weight pushes into me, the compression heightening every sensation in my body. I let the sensations wash over me in an onslaught, caught in a pleasurable, if overwhelming, tide.

When we were fourteen, he’d run from this—the very second we’d stuck our toes in the pool and felt the undertow that could pull us in. We’d gotten ahintof this magnetic quality before he ran out. And we’ve vaulted right over it and straight into carnal lust our other two or three encounters. This one…this threatens to absolutely devour me in a scary, life-changing way. I’m not sure there will be a recovery from this.

Ever.

My pondering ends as he urges my lips open. Delves into my mouth with my tongue with so much confidence, with so muchownership, I nearly come up off the bed with my body’s response.

I groan as he rocks into me.

I’m shocked to find my own palms splayed against his ass. When had they done that? For someone who has never reallydone much with a boy, my body sure seems to have some ideas. We’ve gone from very sweet make-out session to “how fast can we get our clothes off”. There’s no in-between for us. And I relish the newness, even as the smart part of my brain is telling me to slow down and think about this a little.

As our tongues tangle, I slide my hands up his shirt, under his vest and yank until I have enough room to press my hands flat against his heated skin. I slide them around to the back, untucking as I go. I’ve never undressed a man in a three piece suit. And now, nothing haseversounded more sexy. My own pajama top rides up, the buttons on his vest scratching and digging into the soft flesh of my stomach.

His hands reach up and he presses a flat palm over my left breast before sliding it down until my nipple is between his fingers. He’s palmed my breasts before, but that was business. Dear God…I’d had no idea being pinched could feel…electric.

I combust, a full on whimper escaping from me. I’m too into it to be horrified. I swear toGodI’m about to come, and we’re fully clothed. Can I have my very first orgasm without just a boob grab?

He growls something, and removes his hand. I try to put his hand back, very much craving its weight and attention.

“Helena, this wasn’t the intention.”

He tears his lips from mine, and buries his face in my hair at my temple. He’s halfway to smothering in my pillow, and I can hear him panting. He’s muttering under his breath, even as he holds me to him.

I’m having a harder time pushing away the cloud of lust. I decide that if he’s going to put his ear and throat this close to me, I might as well make use of it. As if I’ve done this a million times before, urged on by pure instinct, I press a line of kisses to the parts I can reach. And when he doesn’t do anything except hissout a breath, I take his advice from earlier and I bite him. Hard. Right where his neck meets his collarbone.

He comes up off the bed, and stares at me like a mad man. His pupils dilate to pin pricks before expanding to take over the blue of his eyes. He looksterrifyinglyturned on. Like he’s going to bite me right back, and make me hurt in a way that feels so good I want more of it.

“Thisis what I was avoiding, running out of that closet.” He says it like a man confessing his last sin, a man about to face the firing squad. He looks half ready to bolt for the door, repeating the past all over again.

That gets my head to clear a bit. I almost feel embarrassed I bit him. Almost. Honestly, I think he deserved it. I think I might have even drawn blood, and I’m not a little bit sorry. I want to punish him for stopping. “Oh yes, because clearly this is the worst thing to happen, ever.”

In tandem, our watches beep. I glance at mine before giving a short laugh. My All-Saints app is reminding me to log my workout session.

“Always watching,” Kendall agrees darkly.

Reality comes crashing in, and I’m suddenly very aware of every way I’m vulnerable in front of this person. Again. His three piece suit versus my pajamas. His fortune versus my…not…fortune. His knowledge of everything versus my naiveté. How very close I am to screwing up my chance at staying at Oxford—and I don’t have a daddy here to bail me out of trouble like Kendall does. The power imbalance slams into the void left by my adrenaline and hormones.

“Helena,” he says as I make an effort to push out from under him.

I don’t even know if I’m embarrassed or pissed beyond belief that Kendall makes it sound like he’s readyyet againto run away from me. I level him with a glower. “Kendall.”

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