Page 88 of Touch the Sky
“But we can’t stop…wanting each other.”
My gaze flicks up and down her body. “No. We can’t stop.”
She licks her lips. “So what if we just…had each other?”
Somehow, all it takes is that one phrase to make my throat go dry.
“Just…just this,” she adds, staring at my mouth again. “Nothing else.”
Just this.
Just her skin and her sweat and those soft pink lips gasping my name.
It’s nothing and everything all at once.
“You’re right,” I say. “That is an incredibly stupid idea.”
She takes a faltering step back, like I’ve slapped her.
“I’m sorry,” she babbles. “I should not have even said?—”
“It’s stupid,” I cut in, “but I don’t know what the fuck else we’re supposed to do.”
I clamp my hand around her wrist and pull until her mouth crashes against mine.
Chapter 19
Jacinthe
“Do you want to go inside or something?”
I don’t know how I manage to talk with my hands under Tess’s shirt and her mouth locked on my neck, but somehow, I ask her the question.
We’re up against the side of the barn, Tess with her back to the wall and me pressed against her. I’m not sure how we got over here. I’m not sure what’s happening at all, but I sure as hell don’t plan on stopping.
“No,” Tess grunts before scraping me with her teeth.
I sigh—both from the teeth-scraping and the relief of not having to move.
If we leave this spot, one of us might come to our senses, and right now, I’d do anything to stay in this moment where sense doesn’t seem to matter anymore.
All that matters is the way she feels.
The way she tastes.
The way her hips buck against mine as her body begs for more.
She’s already chucked her jacket somewhere on the ground. I start sliding her Henley shirt up her stomach until my thumbs brush the band of her sports bra.
“This okay?” I ask, glancing up at her until she nods.
Her lips are a little swollen from when I sucked the bottom one between my teeth a few minutes ago. Her eyes are just hazy slits. I keep watching them as I lift her shirt up.
The cold air has her nipples hard enough that I can see them even through the thick material of her sports bra.
“Tu aimes ?a?” I ask, hesitating instead of cupping her chest. “You like to be touched here?”
She nods again, and the desperate little bobs of her chin make me want to rip every piece of clothing off her right here in the yard, frigid air and potential peeping Toms in the forest be damned.
