My God, this man can kiss. It’s not just his firm lips or the way he’s holding me. It’s the way he’s all-consuming in any room he walks into, the way he overwhelms me with simply how hot he is, the way we can bicker and banter and yet still somehow wind up right here in this moment. It’s that heat of hate lined on the backside of this passionate moment.
His fingertips dig into my hip as he shifts, and I feel his erection as it presses against my stomach. It’s long and hard, and it’s proof he wants me as much as I’ve been fighting against the fact that I want him, too.
This kiss is unlike any other I’ve ever encountered. There’s passion there as we explore the attraction we’ve both felt, and it’s making me want more with him. It’s making me want to set aside whatever differences we had and take him into my bed.
I can’t, obviously.
I live with my parents, one of whom expressly forbade this sort of thing.
But maybe we could go to his place?
Tingles explode in my chest at the thought.
He pulls back unexpectedly, and he leans his forehead to mine. “Fuck,” he groans, his voice a hoarse, strangled rasp.
My chest tightens at his curse. He’s kissing the enemy, and then he stopped. He didn’t mean to kiss me at all.
I can’t back up out of his embrace since he has me pinned to the wall, but shame and embarrassment fill me in equal measures at his single word that managed to ruin whatever this moment was.
Heat pricks behind my eyes, and I finally gather the courage to set both of my hands on his chest to push him away.
I touch my lips, and then I glare at him.
He looks epically confused at my glare. “What?” he asks.
“You know what,” I hiss.
He tilts his head, but then he glances away from me and toward the black car that’s idling at the curb. “Our ride is here.”
“I’ll just walk,” I spit at him, and I move to walk away.
He grabs my arm, halting my progress. “Where the fuck are you going?”
“Home!” I yell at him. I’m crushed that he pulled away so abruptly when he must’ve realized what we were doing, and I hate that I feel that way.
“The car is here,” he says, his voice an overly calm contrast to mine. “Why are you acting like this?”
Oh, now he wants me to relive the whole mortifying experience? I don’t thinkso.
I rip my arm from his grasp, and I’m halfway between embarrassed and furious over this whole situation. I practically run to get away from him, my feet stomping with each clap against the pavement, and I never look back.
CHAPTER 18: Madden Bradley
It Never Came Up
What the fuck was that?
What the fuck is wrong with her?
Questions swirl around my head as I take the car home solo. I think about texting her, but she was angry. Angry I kissed her? The way she melted into me, the soft moans…no. It wasn’t the kiss that made her fly off the handle.
It had to have been that she realized it wasmeshe was kissing. Or she was drunker than I thought she was and she realized what the fuck she was doing.
I have no clue. I’m confused as fuck.
I wanted to keep kissing her, and I only pulled back because my phone buzzed to let me know our ride was here and waiting for us.
I was going to invite her back to my place. I guess I’m glad I didn’t have to face that particular rejection.