Page 10 of Obsession on Repeat
"I don’t think I can reach it."
"That’s too bad." I extracted a napkin from the cooler. "Here."
Accepting the napkin, he cleaned the cream off of his face. He cleared his throat, stabbing another strawberry with the fork. "Want some more?"
"Yes, please." Opening my mouth, I blinked when he completely missed my mouth and smeared the cream against my face. "Hey, not funny." I reached for the napkin.
"I’ll get it."
Sullivan leaned forward, stopping at the last minute to toss the napkin on the blanket. Instead, he grabbed my chin with his fingers. His tongue licked my skin, and when he pulled away, he wore a satisfied look on his face.
A tight breath hitched in my throat. "I think you got it." I reached for the fork, sliding what was left of the fruit into my mouth. I handed him the fork. "You’re a tease."
He acted shocked, going as far to place a hand on his chest. "You can’t be talking to me."
"You’re the only Sullivan I know." I bit my bottom lip, watching him stab a raspberry with the fork. "What’s your full name?"
He concentrated on dipping fruit into the whip cream. "Sullivan Carl Masters the Second."
"Wow, that’s pretty lengthy."
"Tell me about it. What about you?"
"Nothing so grand, I’m afraid. I’m Lorelai Marie Jones."
"It’s a beautiful name, it suits you."
I blushed despite myself. "Are you going to serve me that raspberry, or play with it all day?"
Smiling, he lifted the fork, sliding it into his own mouth. "You mean that raspberry?"
"I can’t believe you did that! How rude!" I reached for the fork when he stopped me, his hand wrapping around my wrist. "What are—" He pulled me forward, and with a gasp, I grabbed his shoulder to steady myself. He pressed his lips against mine. I fell into him, knocking us onto the sand. I was drowning in him, aroused when he let his tongue slip out to clean my lips, before diving deeper into my mouth.
Sullivan pulled away with a groan, his lips hovering near mine. "Rory, we’re in public."
"Uh huh." I traced his jaw, every inch of him so close.
"We should stop."
"Why? Who’s watching?"
He released me, and I sat back up. "There’s always someone watching." He watched me brush the sand from my clothes. "You look perfect."
"Stop that."
"Why? I enjoy complimenting you."
"That’s dangerous talk."
He propped himself on his elbow. "Am I not supposed to enjoy myself with you?"
"Enjoying something makes it harder to walk away from it."
His smile faltered enough for me to catch it. "Are you already planning your exit?"
"I always plan my exit. It’s the only way I know how to breathe." I could feel the shift in him, the way his easy charm sharpened into something more serious.
"You ever think that maybe running away isn’t strength? Maybe it’s fear dressed up as freedom?"
