Page 50 of A Slice of Love

No matter how many times I tried in college, nobody could make me feel the way Jonas does.

I’ll either end up a spinster chasing a high I’ve only experienced once before, or I’ll give in to him, which doesn’t bode well for me either way you look at it.

Though one way does sound a hell of a lot more fun…

Like he can read my thoughts, he presses his hips against me, and it’s clear I’m not the only one who is sexually frustrated.

I groan at the contact, my head falling back and lolling to the side.

His nose is cold against my skin, but I love the feel as he drags it along the column of my neck.

“Oranges.”

“Oranges?”

“You still smell like oranges.” His tongue sneaks out, tasting me. “But you don’t taste like oranges.”

A moan escapes my lips, and I hate the way my body betrays me, giving away the effect he has on me.

“How’s your head?”

“What head?”

He laughs against my skin, and the vibrations run through me and straight between my legs.

“The one you just hurt.”

“Oh. It’s fine. I’ve already forgotten all about it.”

“So you’re not concussed?” He blazes a path from my neck to my cheek, switching between open- and close-mouthed kisses.

I squeeze my legs together, trying to alleviate some of the pressure that’s steadily building there.

“No.”

Another kiss. A flick of his tongue.

“No emergency room visit necessary?”

He’s dangerously close to my lips.

“No.”

“You’re thinking clearly?”

No, but I never think clearly around you.“Yes.”

“Then ask me.”

Kiss me.

The words sit on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t seem to make myself say them.

I want to. God, do I want to.

But I can’t.

Asking Jonas to kiss me is like asking him to break my heart all over again.

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