Page 20 of Climb Me Maybe
"You're not just some guy."I reach out, my fingers finding the front of his flannel shirt."You're the guy who's been driving me completely insane for three days."
His eyes darken."Imogen..."
"Whose smile makes my stomach do flips.Whose body responds to my touch like you were made for it."
"You gotta stop."But he doesn't step away.If anything, he moves closer.
I tug gently on his shirt, pulling him between my knees."Because it scares you?Or because you want it too much?"
"Both," he groans, one hand on the post beside my head, the other caging in my hip.
He crowds me, his breath hot against my face.
Then his gaze drops to my mouth, and I see the exact moment his control starts to fray.
"I want to kiss you," he whispers.
“Why don’t you then?”
“Because we shouldn’t?—”
“I know.”I slide my hands up his chest, feeling his heartbeat thundering beneath my palms.“Do it anyway.”
For a heartbeat, he hesitates.Then he mutters something in what sounds like Japanese and his mouth crashes into mine.
And holy shit.
If I thought Brady was intense during massages, it's nothing compared to this.He kisses like he's been starved for it, like he's memorizing the contours of my mouth and the taste of me.His fingers thread through my hair with a desperate groan that steals my breath.
I moan into his mouth, my legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer.He's all heat and lean muscle and barely restrained power.His tongue slides against mine, and I want to devour him whole.
Thisis what I've been craving—not just the physical contact—though I can’t complain aboutthat.But this raw and real connection.The way he clings to me like I'm precious and dangerous at the same time.
I bite his lower lip gently, and he growls, the sound vibrating through both of our bodies.His hips thrust forward, and I feel his thick, hard cock against my inner thigh.
"Fuck," I breathe against his mouth, and he immediately stiffens.
"Shit.Shit."He jerks away from me like I've burned him, stumbling backward."I'm sorry.I shouldn't have—we can't?—"
"Brady, wait."
"This is wrong."He's backing away, shaking his head."You're too young, too sweet, and I'm your client, and I just—god, I'm sorry."
"You don't need to apologize."
"Yes, I do."His voice is thick with self-contempt."I completely crossed the line.I shouldn’t see you for massages anymore."
He's spiraling, right before my eyes.
The kiss that felt like coming home to me has apparently spooked him into full retreat mode.
"Brady, please, listen to me."
"I need to go."He's already turning away."I'm sorry, Imogen.Really sorry."
And then he's gone, disappearing between the cabins, leaving me sitting on my porch railing with kiss-swollen lips and a heart that feels like it's been put through a blender.
I sit there for a long time, replaying every second of that kiss, trying to understand how something so perfect could end so badly.
