Page 123 of Love in Riverbend
“How did you get this much shit?”
“What the hell is in this tote, barbells?”
You know, super romantic things but no admission that we kissed, well other than the way the blood drained from his face when he first walked through our doorway.
I’m in my bedroom, or what’s left of it. The furniture is gone, and I’m double checking the contents of a tote when I hear the door close. Turning, my gaze meets the sexy blue eyes of my BK. Crouched down on the floor, I slowly make my way to my feet. Words aren’t forming as my flesh heats and silence builds.
Justin removes his hat and wipes his brow with his forearm. His t-shirt is stained with perspiration from all the work he’s been doing and yet, as he takes a step toward me, I think he’s the handsomest man to ever be alone with me in my bedroom. To be honest, he’s the only man to be in this bedroom. My mouth goes dry as I try to read his expression.
“Are you mad?” I finally ask.
He snorts a response.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I guess you know why I didn’t tell you my name.”
“Yeah,” he murmurs. His movements are short and jerky, walking one way and then another. His biceps flex beneath the hem of his short shirt sleeves and his boots sink into the carpet.
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell my brother.”
“Fuck, Devan,” he growls. “I know this can’t go on.” He stops mere inches away.
Warmth radiates off him in waves; despite his hard work, his scent is that of fresh deodorant and an intoxicating masculine aroma. Without more provocation, my body reacts to his proximity.
Shaking my head, I start to back away. “Don’t worry about it. Nothing happened.”
His hand comes to my chin, holding my jaw. Tightening his grip, he lifts it higher until we have eye contact. “Is that what you want?”
Unable to speak, I shake my head.
Justin’s eyes are on my lips, staring at them as if he too is questioning whether our one kiss was real. My pulse speeds as my tongue darts out to my dry lips. In milliseconds, his lips crash down on mine.
Possessive.
Demanding.
Full.
Unlike the first kiss, this one is different. An exploratory mission to determine if the first kiss was real. By the way my nerve endings sizzle with electricity, my nipples bead, and my core twists, if I could speak, I’d say there’s no doubt.
Justin tastes of coffee and sweetness.
His hand continues holding my face, controlling the way I turn and the way we move. His wide chest presses against my sensitive breasts. I’ve never been more turned on in my life. Lifting my hands to his chest, I feel the frantic rhythm of his heart as our kiss deepens.
I’m staggered by the realization that Justin knows who I am, and he’s still kissing me. Not just kissing, claiming. I tell myself not to make too much out of this, but I’m not listening. When his lips part, without thought, mine do too.
It’s as his tongue slides over mine that I let out a moan and press mine against his.
My fingers grasp the fabric of his shirt, twisting the material as my lips bruise. It’s not all him. I’m pressing back with equal fervor. Hungry for—no, starved for—what I’ve only known with him.
Our bodies press together.
Mine melding with his as his hardens.
When Justin pulls back, I gasp, afraid he’s regretting that he did it—that he kissed Ricky’s little sister. Or worse, he is egging me on. This is some big prank, and he’s about to laugh.
I’m ready to apologize again when Justin shakes his head.
“Fuck, Devan, I don’t know what to do.”
