She allows me to swipe the pad of my thumb along her plump bottom lip a few times before she pushes my hand away. “I’m only staring at that smug grin of yours and dreaming of slapping it away.”
I laugh. “You can get rid of it by kissing me instead.”
She scoffs before her gaze flicks to the small amount of space between our bodies. It isn’t much. If either one of us takes too deep of an inhale at the same time, our chests will brush against one another.
“Are you that dense? Didn’t you go to expensive schools and receive the best education money can buy? What do you not understand about me saying I don’t want to kiss you? Not even a little bit.”
I pull my gaze from hers and tilt my head to her chest. “Your nipples are getting harder with each passing second, princess.”
“It’s cold,” she immediately responds.
I laugh at the raspiness of her voice. It’s getting more sultry, telling me exactly what I want to know.
“Whatever you say,” I respond. I don’t know if it’s the realization that this might be my one shot at getting her toadmit to both of us that she wants this or something else, but something gives me the nerve to take a step closer to her.
My front presses against hers, and I brace myself for her to push me away. If she gives any indication that she doesn’t want me this close, I’ll immediately back up.
She doesn’t.
Her hands fall to my chest, and to my surprise, and maybe even hers, judging by the soft gasp that escapes her lips, her fingers fist at the fabric of my shirt. They stay there. She doesn’t push me away, but she doesn’t pull me in either.
My heart hammers against my chest. I know what I’m about to do is stupid. I know she’s going to push me away after doing it, but at this very moment, I can’t bring myself to care.
“Hey, Camille?” I ask, my voice tight and hoarse.
“What?” she whispers.
“Tell me to stop if you don’t want this.”
“Want what?”
“This.”
And before either one of us can say anything else, I grab the back of her neck and yank her face to mine. All of the fighting and hot and cold of the last few weeks feels worth it the moment my lips crash against hers.
TWENTY-FOUR
CAMILLE
All my protestsand reasons why we shouldn’t kiss leave my mind the moment Ryker’s lips collide with mine. His fingers are strong against my neck, his tongue coaxing my mouth open almost instantly.
Oh my God.
I forgot how good of a kisser he was.
His kiss is possessive.
And with his lips against mine, I can’t lie to him. I want this. Desperately.
The first time he ever kissed me, it was sweet and tender. He was confident with it as the clock struck midnight, but that kiss was one that built. It started slow and steady before intensifying.
This kiss is the complete opposite.
It’s angry.
Demanding.
He kisses me like he’s trying to punish me. And maybe he is. I wouldn’t blame him.