Page 63 of Lights, Camera, Love

A moan rumbles out of him as I catch the fullness of his bottom lip between my teeth and suck on it. His fingers travel up my spine to tighten around the base of my neck, and he holds me firmly in place, kissing me senseless until there’s no breath left in my body.

The opening bars of ‘All the Stars’ by Kendrick Lamar and SZA filter through the speaker as Kye’s shallow breaths wash over my lips. ‘I didn’t come in here for this,’ he says. ‘I only came in here to talk.’

‘Wearetalking.’ I catch his face between my palms, the edges of his tie slipping between my fingers. His lips land back on mine, pulling me back under. I have zero interest in ever coming back to the surface. The responsibilities of life be damned—I’m staying right here forever.

It’s Kye who eventually breaks the kiss, pulling back to cup my face, stroking his thumbs over my cheeks.

When he lets go, I begin fiddling with my dress zipper, my eyes falling to the tightly stretched fabric around the fly of his pants.

‘I need to see you, Evie,’ he says roughly.

A quivering breath passes through my lips. ‘I need to see you, too.’

He tugs the tie off his head, his hair falling into a tousled mess. When I begin unzipping my dress, he lurches forward to take over.

‘You think I haven’t been dreaming about doing this?’ he asks, flames burning in his eyes as he finishes undoing my dress and pushes it off my shoulders. The silky fabric falls to the carpet, and Kye’s gaze drags down my skin, now covered only by a pair of lacy panties.

‘You’re gonna be the death of me,’ he says, his eyes clinging to my breasts. He steps forward and splays his fingers around them, squeezing and kneading, before bringing his hot mouth to one of my nipples.

I breathe his name as he groans, my fingers sinking into his hair while he drags his soft tongue over me. When I catch him pressing his palm to the swell in his pants, like he’s trying to ease some of the pressure, I nudge his hand away and replace it with my own, my fingers savouring the thick, firm length of him.

With a rough moan, his mouth tightens around my breast, and after a few more strokes of his tongue, he straightens. ‘Get on the bed, Evie,’ he says firmly, raising my body temperature to a million degrees.

I climb up onto the crisp white bedsheets, and Kye’s desire-filled eyes devour every centimetre of my skin as I scoot back a little.

‘Why areyouallowed to keep your clothes on?’ I tease. ‘Don’t tell me that someone with a body like yours is shy.’

He shifts to stand at the foot of the bed and sets his confident gaze on me as he undoes his shirt buttons. ‘Shy?You haven’t been paying attention.’

Yes, Groucho. Throw all that surly attitude my way.

I rest back on my elbows and watch him undress down to black boxer briefs. I blow through my lips as I look away and then back at him, giving my head a little shake because he’s so …yum. My eyes rake over the ink scattered across his toned chest—a compass rose, a Hercules beetle, the word ‘Courage’ scrawled across his upper rib, and an insect with brightly coloured wings.

‘I didn’t figure you were a butterfly kind of guy,’ I quip, nodding at the tattoo.

‘It’s a moth.’ He drops a knee onto the bed and pushes it between my thighs. ‘A Picasso moth.’

‘A Picasso moth,’ I echo. I take a closer look at its striking wing patterns. ‘Has it got some kind of special meaning?’

He shrugs a shoulder. ‘It’s just cool-looking.’

I smile. ‘Like you.’

A dimple pops in his cheek as he smirks. ‘Oh, I just look good, huh? Nothing else to me?’

I shake my head. ‘Nothing else to you.’

He falls forward, palms landing on either side of my head, eyes gleaming as he gazes down at me at close range. ‘Look what you do to me, Evie,’ he says.

My eyes slip to his boxer briefs.

‘Are youtryingto prove that I didn’t know what hard was until now?’ he asks throatily.

I let out a breath and reach down to cup him, savouring the little groan he lets out as I squeeze his thick hardness through the fabric.

‘I am definitely trying to prove that,’ I say, nodding.

A needy breath escapes me as his fingertips brush against my inner thigh, tracing a line up to the waistband of my underwear. He slips his fingers inside the fabric, and I practically sizzle with anticipation, but instead of touching my throbbing skin, he uses them to peel the fabric off me and slide it down my legs.

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