Page 70 of The Illicit Play
I’m being gentle, only applying the softest pressure… and I can’t stop.
I’m right about his lips. They’re supple and soft. My mouth can’t help but explore, my tongue darting out to taste, to feel, to know.
The tip brushes his upper lip and he flinches, his body still rigid on the hood of his Jeep.
Pull away. Give the poor man some space!
But my hand curls around his neck and I add a little more pressure, molding our mouths together until my tongue is slipping between his lips again.
He tastes good.
Addictive.
I want his strong arms around me. I want to feel his hands curving around my body.
Please kiss me back!I silently beg him, swiping my tongue across his lips again.
And this time, he replies.
His tongue sweeps against mine—this beautiful, exquisite meeting that sends a delicious tingle right down my body.
Tipping my head, I deepen the kiss, hungry in a way I’ve never been before. I’m parched, starving in thedesert, and he’s my only source of water, sustenance… life!
With a soft whimper, I meet his tongue again, thrilled by the heady rush of this delicate dance. He’s not thrusting his tongue down my throat; these are gentle licks, his lips only adding to the intoxication of the kiss.
This—
His mouth suddenly rips away from mine, his hands landing on my shoulders and pushing me back. There’s nothing rough or annoyed about his movements, more just a determination to separate us.
“I can’t,” he puffs, shaking his head.
“What? You… you can’t?” The disappointment is brutal—a burning hot poker right in the ego.
“You’re Wily’s sister.”
“So?”
He gives me a pained frown, like how am I not getting this?
Scrubbing a hand over his head, he cups the back, his jaw clenching as he stares out at the valley, no doubt wishing he was a bird so he could soar right off the hood and get away from me.
Slumping back with a soft huff, I angle my body away from him. “It’s some kind of bro code thing, isn’t it?”
“Yep.” He pops theP, and I give him a quick side-eye.
His face is bunched like he’s concentrating on not looking at me… or touching me. “I can, um…” He clears his throat. “I can be your friend. I can listen to any of your secrets, and I’ll keep ’em. If you need help figuring out your next move? I’m your guy.” He turns to look at me, his expression so serious that he may as well be slamming the door shut on any future kissing. “But that’s all I can offer. I can’t…” He shakes his head again. “I respect Wily too much.”
Frustration sizzles and burns. It’s an effort to stop the rant bubbling in my mouth.
Fucking bro code! What the hell?
It’s such bullshit!
Clenching my jaw, I glare at the forest to my left, homing in on a gnarly tree trunk and cursing the bark, because, well… I fucking can!
With a soft sigh, Grady lies back, stretching out on the hood of the car and resting a hand on his chest. He’s gazing up at the sky, not saying a damn thing, and all I can do is stare down at him.
He won’t look at me, and this muscle in his jaw keeps working—clench, unclench, clench, unclench.
