Page 42 of Obliterated
Heat sparks through me, violent and all-consuming, setting every nerve on fire. My hands find his chest, hot and damp andperfect under my palms, sliding up to his shoulders, clutching like I need to anchor myself before I fall apart completely.
Mine, the press of his body demands.
Mine, the drag of his lips insists.
Yours, the tremor in my bones answers.
A groan rumbles out of him, low and rough, vibrating straight into my mouth, and it wrecks me. It’s all of him at once. Every fight, every smirk, every brutal edge melted down to fire and want.
I want more.So much fucking more.
His hand slides higher, palm cupping the side of my throat now, thumb pressed under my jaw as if he owns every inch of me.
Which he fucking does.
I push closer, harder, straddling the line between losing myself and finally being found. Finally being wanted. Finally being seen.
His lips bruise, his tongue tangles with mine, and I swear the stars above us tilt and spin.
There’s no room left for fear. No air left for doubt. Just this kiss, sharp and aching and fucking endless, sealing that word between us.
Mine.
Chapter ten
Max
Ikissedhim.Ifuckingkissed him.
I kissed him until our lips were raw, until the first orange streaks of sunrise bled into the sky. Until his eyelids drooped heavily and he swayed against me, about to topple sideways, my grip the only thing keeping him upright.
I had to half-carry his stubborn ass inside, each step clumsy with exhaustion, and drop him onto his bed like he weighed nothing.
Where I stayed. Where I held him. Kissed him some more. Tangled my fingers in those stupid curls until his breathing evened out, and he finally slipped under.
And then I just lay there, staring like a fucking idiot. Watching the rise and fall of his chest, the twitch of his lashes, and the way his mouth stayed parted like he might kiss me again, even in his sleep. I watched until my eyes burned, until they wouldn’t stay open anymore, and when they finally shut, I was still right there beside him.
We slept through the morning and well into the afternoon. When we finally woke, I still didn’t leave. Icouldn’t. I didn’t want to.
That night, after we spent the day talking, kissing, and resting, I didn’t crawl into that shitty chair across the room like I should have either. No, I stayed. In his bed.
After that, the days blurred once I was back on patrol. We worked, we investigated, we trained. And every fucking night I told myself to stay away—to quit showing up, to quit kissing him like I couldn’t breathe without it.
What he doesn’t know is that he’s the first fucking person I’ve kissed.
Yeah, I’ve fucked before. But that was different. Clinical. Transactional. Just another way to bleed off adrenaline after a fight in the Pit. The first time I ever gave in to one of the endless advances thrown my way was because Tass teased me into it. Her voice in my ear after one too many drinks, saying it might take the edge off, might make me a little less cranky, maybe even a bit nicer to the world.
Spoiler: it didn’t.
It was the same with Noura, who I saw more than once, usually when she came looking for me. Mechanical. Distracting. Right up until the moment she wanted something I couldn’t give her.
It was never like this. Not even close.
There were no heightened shivers running under my skin, no lingering touches that made me ache for more, no soft gasps that echoed in my head long after. No deep gazes pinning me down like he did, holding me open without even trying.
No weird-as-fuck twist in my stomach, like a knot pulling tighter every time he looked at me, every time his mouth met mine.
And definitely no earth-wrecking blue eyes staring at me with so much fucking longing, so much lust, and that other L-word creeping in at the edges. The one that makes my chest seize until I swear my heart fucking constricts.
