Page 38 of Never Enough

He could feel her stare on him as he lay there in silence. After several minutes, he turned his head to her. “What?”

“You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that.”

“How do you figure?”

“You’ve muscled your way into my apartment, you’ve taken over first aid on my ankle, and now you’ve muscled your way into my bedroom.”

“And your bed, more specifically”—he winked—“but what’s your point?”

“Does this brazen attitude work for you?”

“I don’t hear you telling me to go.”

She turned her head and looked straight ahead, staring at the wall opposite her. “Would you go if I asked you to leave?”

“Do you want me to go?” he asked.

She glanced at her hands in her lap. “No,” she replied.

“What do you want, Haskell?”

The pause between them was heavy. “We shouldn’t,” she whispered.

He got up on his knees on the bed, then swung a leg over her outstretched ones so that he was straddling her. Careful not to put his weight on her legs, he cupped her face in his hands, tilting it up to look him in the eye. “Oh, we so should.”

When she didn’t protest, he dipped his mouth to hers. Her response was immediate—a groan and her hands fisted his shirt, her mouth pressing hungrily to his. At first, his lips were a light touch to hers. When her eyelids fluttered closed on a soft moan, her mouth opened to him, and his tongue dipped inside to flick the tip against hers.

She tastes so fucking good! Like the sweetest sugar.

One hand slid through her curls and gripped the back of her skull to keep her in place. The other hand slid down to her shoulder, curled under her arm, and then splayed against her back in an attempt to pull her as tight to him as possible. The delicate contact, the tentative touch of his tongue to hers, and then its retreat, was ramping up his heartbeat. His cock ached as it filled with blood, pressing tightly against his pants, straining to reach her.

He ended the kiss, and she whimpered at the loss of contact. Forehead to forehead, their breaths soughing in and out of each other’s mouths, their eyes opened to gaze at the other. “Sawyer,” she whispered.

“Yes, tiny?”

“I… I’ve never…”

He felt his heart stop for the briefest of moments, and he sucked in air. “Never?”

She shook her head, her eyes sliding away from him in embarrassment.

He was stunned. He’d never been someone’s first, and he wondered if maybe he should stop. However, his mouth moved before his brain finished thinking it through, his voice low and soothing. “Look at me, Haskell.”

When she ducked her head to further avoid his gaze, the hand that had been cradling her head palmed it with a tighter grip, tugging her curls at the roots to force her eyes to meet his.

“It’s okay,” he assured her. “We go only as far as you want, but if I don’t get to kiss you again, I might just die of grief.”

Her snort and eye roll showed him just how much she didn’t believe that. “I’m guessing you’ll survive.”

He gave a minuscule shake of his head. “Need that sweet taste. You’re sugar that melts on my tongue.”

He touched his lips to hers again. Dropping his hands from her body was the hardest thing he’d ever done, but he knew he needed to get her out of her head, and the best way to do that was to give her something better to focus on. He backed away for just a moment and grabbed the bottom of his long-sleeved T-shirt from his pants. Reaching behind him, he pulled at the collar and brought it over his head. He dropped it next to them on the bed.

Sawyer heard her sharp intake of breath as she took in his chest and abs. Her pupils dilated, want and need flooding them.

Cool fingertips tentatively traced the ink that covered his chest. It was a mosaic of items. Things that looked like paintings, statues, jewelry, and even money. “You know, it’s probably not a good idea to keep track of your thefts on your body. It’s a bit like standing under a neon sign that screams ‘Burglar Here,’” she teased.

He grinned. “What’s life without a little risk?”

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