Page 69 of Overtime
Aran passes the narrow corridor between the windows and the end of the shelves. Pulling at my hand, he settles me against the end of the bookshelf and finally lets me go. A gasp tears out of me as he leans an arm above my head against the shelf, which brings him so close I can feel the heat radiating off his body.
On reflex, my hands push against his chest. “Wait.”
He halts.
A weird giggle falls from my mouth. “I’m just wondering how epic a planned kiss like this can be, you know?”
“Oh, I’ll show you. Close your eyes, Maddie.”
“Maddie? Not Strawberry?”
Aran is so large he blocks out the light and casts me in shadow. Yet the closer he gets, the hotter the air becomes.
“Are you chickening out,Maddie?”
Yes.
No. I’ll still seize the opportunity.
“Okay, fine. Show me what it’s like to be thoroughly kissed, then,” I say in blatant challenge, desperately hoping he takes the bait and that this isn’t a bluff.
Aran’s eyes fall to my lips and then his stretch into a little smile. “Brace yourself.”
I take in air as if I were diving into the ocean. Then his free hand holds my neck, tilting my head back. But it’s not an anchor. Instead, it makes me fall so hard and so fast, I have to close my eyes against the vertigo.
You know thatah-hamoment when you solve a puzzle? That’s how it feels the second Aran’s lips press against mine. Like I finally found the last piece I was looking for—and it fits seamlessly.
Aran’s lips are oh so soft as they caress my bottom one with languid care, as if he has all the time in the world for that alone. Strength starts leaving my body at the soft pull of his lips, and Isag against the shelf. His fingers twine with my hair deliciously, another caress.
My hands travel up his chest, tracing the hard planes until I find his neck. Then I let one hand continue to the velvet soft hair at his nape.
A rumbling sound comes from his chest. Before I know it, his tongue runs across my lips and his other hand comes around my body, bringing me flush against him. Shocked at the sudden closeness, I open my mouth to gasp, and that’s all he needs to deepen the kiss.
The touch of his tongue against mine tears a sound out of me that makes him smile against my mouth. But then his tongue caresses mine in a hot, wet stroke, and I die—only to come to life when he does it again. It feels like more than just one kiss. Like a promise of something more.
I don’t know what comes over me, but I grab his head in both hands and try to push him closer. The wet, sucking sounds of our mouths should embarrass me, tear me back to reality.
But they don’t.
Not when one of his hands is tangled in my hair, holding my head so he can have full access to my mouth. Not when his other hand presses against my lower back until there isn’t a molecule of air between us.
I gasp for air when, with a sucking sound, he lets go all of a sudden. But Aran’s not done. Softly, he pulls at my hair until I arch back as far as I can. I blink against the stars dancing on the ceiling. And then his mouth is on my neck.
“Was that inspiring enough?” he mumbles against the skin under my ear before placing a hot, open-mouthed kiss and gently suckling at the skin. I feel the pull all the way to my toes.
Something that sounds like the love child between a groan and a mewl comes out of my chest. My skin is on fire and myheart is pounding full throttle, and he must obviously realize all this.
Oh, this guy knows how to drive a girl wild with his mouth alone. And he hasn’t even used the rest of his body.
As if reading my mind, Aran chuckles. His hold at the back of my head grows a little gentler, and he leans me back against the shelf.
He’s not completely breathless like I am, but his nostrils flare with his rapid breathing, and I feel the thrum of his pulse against my hand on his chest. Aran’s dark eyes are at half mast, still fixed on my lips. He licks his slowly, as if savoring the taste of mine on them.
I gasp at how strongly I felt that. Everywhere.
Aran’s eyes shift back up to mine. We’re suspended in silence for a long moment. Me, because my brain packed up its bags and left the building. Him, I don’t know why. But then he reaches for my face. His thumb wipes at the moisture under my lower lip, and I shudder.
“And that,” he says, his voice raspy and thick, “is how you get thoroughly, epically kissed, Madeline Berkley. Go write that.”
