Page 387 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
Shedidask, and that’s all the confirmation I need. I close the distance between us with two long strides and sweep her intomy arms, one arm wrapping around her and pulling her body flush against mine. I lift my other hand to her cheek and cradle her face, my thumb running across her bottom lip. “Audrey, I wanted to kiss you the day I met you. And I’ve wanted it every day since.”
She closes her eyes and takes a stuttering breath, then she pushes up on her toes and presses her lips against mine, slowly at first, then with increasing pressure. I let her set the pace, wanting, above all else, for her to be comfortable. But then she nips at my bottom lip before pulling back long enough to say, “Please don’t hold back, Flint. I’m not going to break.”
I let out a low groan and pull her even closer, my lips colliding with hers, the air between us crackling as our movements grow more frantic. I slip my hands around her waist, under the blazer she’s wearing, and she shrugs it off, letting it fall to the floor behind her. I pause, breaking our kiss long enough to take in the curve-hugging tank top I’ve been catching glimpses of all day. I skate my palms over the silken skin on her bare arms and shoulders and close my eyes. I want all of her, to claim her with my touch, my kisses, each one an echo of the feeling coursing through me:mine, mine, mine.
I slide my hands to her hips and hoist her up until her legs wrap around my waist, then I kiss her like sheisn’tgoing to break, with every ounce of the desire that’s been building in me for weeks. Her tongue brushes against mine as her hands tangle in my hair, and I almost lose my mind.
This woman is everything.
The taste of her, the feel of her as she moves with me, against me, like our bodies are tuned together in ways even our words aren’t.
I walk us backward to the couch—the bed’s closer, but I don’t want to give her the wrong impression—and sit down, leaning back until she’s hovering over me, her lips still pressed tomine. My hands splay across her back, reaching under the hem of her tank top to feel her skin warm against my palms. Her movements slow and her kisses yield to something more languid than frantic but still just as passionate. She isn’t in a hurry, and that’s fine with me. We’ve got all night.
If I have anything to do with it, we’ll have forever.
Except, somewhere in the back of my mind, I can’t let go of Audrey’s words, spoken just before we kissed.I know I said I didn’t want anything to happen between us, and I think I probably still feel that way.
I want her. But not until I know she wantsme.
All of me.
Even my stupid crazy life.
Our bodies really must be in tune because Audrey pulls back, shifting until she’s sitting on the couch beside me. She breathes slowly, deeply, until she finally says, “Flint, we can’t.”
I lean forward and run a hand across my face, my elbows propped on my knees, and take a minute to regulate my breathing. After the last ten minutes, it’s no small feat. “You’re right,” I finally say.
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Audrey says, almost like she didn’t hear me agree with her. “Obviously I want…wait, I’m right?”
I look up and meet her gaze, then reach for her hands, tugging them into mine. “I just want you to be sure, Audrey.”
“About us?”
I lift a shoulder and nod. “I don’t really do casual. Not when it comes to sex.” I only need one hand to count the number of intimate relationships I’ve had, even if the tabloids like to assume otherwise. “If that’s where we take our relationship, I want it to be because we’re both ready. Because we both want something serious.”
She lets out a low groan of frustration, pulling her hands free and scooching herself to the other side of the couch, putting a few feet of space between us.
I miss her warmth the second she’s no longer beside me. “Did I say something wrong?”
She quickly shakes her head, her eyes wide. “The opposite. By telling me you don’t do casual, you just made yourself infinitely more sexy. I didn’t even think that was possible, but you did, and I might need to go sit on the other side of the room.” She scrambles off the couch and walks through the open bedroom doors, turning to face me as she sits on the edge of the bed. “I definitely need to sit over here,” she says. “This is better. You stay where you are.”
I smirk. “What are you going to do tonight?” I joke, glancing back at the bed.
“I’ll sleep in the bathtub.” She looks toward the bathroom. “I’m sure it’s big enough.”
Or you could just choose me,I think, but I can’t say those words out loud. Audrey has a lot more on the line here than I do. Choosing me will change her future indefinitely. Her privacy, her work, her anonymity. All of it would be impacted. Only she can decide if it’s worth it.
“A pillow barricade might work,” she says. “As long as we both promise to keep our hands to ourselves.”
“I can handle a pillow barricade,” I say. “I’d prefer that over either of us taking the bathtub.”
“Or the very tiny couch,” she says.
I nod. “Glad we agree.”
She’s quiet for a long moment before she walks back to the couch and stands between my knees, her hands hooked over my shoulders. I pull her into an embrace, my face pressed against her stomach, and she slides her hands up to my hair, rubbing her fingers over my scalp in a way that melts my limbs and relaxesme against her. “Oh, man. Please don’t ever stop exactly what you’re doing.”
She chuckles. “Flint, I really like you,” she whispers. “I’m still scared. But I’m trying not to be, okay?”
