Page 60 of My Sweetest Agony
Yet, I can’t deny this pull, this warmth that’s spreading through my body the longer I stare into his fathomless blue eyes, the more I see his anguish that matches my own. It’s like looking in a mirror, and all I want to do is shatter it. Destroy his pain. Obliterate my own.
Any way possible…
The only way I know how.
I lean in and feather my lips across his.
His entire body stiffens, his hand going tight at my hip, the other curling into the leather of the couch with a creak.
But he doesn’t pull away.
Doesn’t do anything but remain frozen in place, his gaze still locked on mine with that same searing intensity.
I kiss him again, harder this time, pressing my mouth fully against his with clear intention. Not tentatively but with enough reservation for both of us, giving him every opportunity to stop it.
Cam isn’t the type of person to do anything he doesn’t want to.
And if he doesn’t want this, he will end it before it goes any further.
His chest rumbles with a groan, those fingers digging in even farther on my waist, and my body thrums back to life, heating everywhere after only the barest of brushes of our lips and the heady reaction to my kiss.
“Ivy”—my name comes out as a mix of warning and plea against my lips—“you don’t want this…”
The ragged waver in his voice matches the unsteadiness of my heartbeat.
I rest my forehead on his, closing my eyes and sliding my hands from his shoulders up his thick, corded neck and into his hair, holding him in place while my head spins in a thousand different directions.
He’s probably right.
I probably don’t really want this.
And it’s probably a horrible idea.
But it’s the most alive I’ve felt in months.
With my body pressed to his. His heart beating rapidly against my chest. My lips floating across his, and that taste…
God, he even tastes the way he smells.
Like something rich and sumptuous, yet somehow bright and fresh with promise, even as the darkness that always seems to envelop him coats my tongue as I glide it along his lips.
Cam groans, his body still locked up tight, but his cock stirs between my legs, and I shift along it, settling myself more fully onto his lap. His other hand lifts from the couch to tunnel into my hair, and for a second, my heart stops, thinking he’s going to force me away and end this insanity before it really starts.
He holds me still and pulls back slightly, his eyes searching mine as uneven breaths fall from his parted lips. The heat I see blazing across his gaze matches that burning in my core and searing in my chest.
Another tear slips from my eye, and his gaze follows it down my cheek.
He lifts his hand from my hip to swipe it away.
He’s going to stop this.
I can see it in the way his hand trembles and the uncertainty in the way he looks at me, but all I can think about in this moment is how alive I’ll feel. How good it will feel. And how badly I want to just feel anything but this agony I’ve lived in for weeks, and weeks, and weeks.
This is what I need.
No matter how wrong it might be.
No matter how many reasons there are to stop.
