Page 107 of Severed Heart
“You’re doing exactly what I told you not to do that night,” she says adamantly, still trying to loosen herself from my grip.
“What night?” I ask, knowing exactly what night things started to shift and perking up at her mention of it. “And what was it you told me?”
“Not to make promises that you won’t keep. Saying things—”
“Youheardme.” Her eyes instantly drop, confirming she heard the whisper I left her with the night of her date. Fire lights in my veins at the truth of it. “Nice try, General, but your most important lesson about being a watcher, an observer is pinpointingmotive.If you ignore that you heard it, you don’t have to acknowledge it happened. You fucking heard me whisper those words to you and know I meant them,” I declare, cupping her face with my palm while bending eye level. “Are you drunk?”
“Why?”
“Are. You. Drunk?”
“Tyler, I—”
“Like I’d fucking care if you were.” I force whatever words she starts to convey away as I crush her mouth with mine, my kiss anything but gentle. Gripping her hip, I pull her fully into me, and she gasps against my lips, feeling just how fucking hard I am—everywhere—for her. Her return kiss is hesitant as I rebuke any resistance with the swipe of my tongue demanding entry, and she slowly, so slowly, opens for me.
Groaning due to the permission, I thrust in and feel her breath catch as I taste and explore, licking the roof of her mouth. Delving into every corner, I savor the feel of it, relieved by the fact she’s kissing me back.
She’s kissing me back.
Our tentative kiss turns wildfire as I dive in fully, my lust in overdrive.
Her moan vibrates my tongue as I groan in response, my body lit, every muscle coiling as I let myself go—fusing every thought, every fantasy, every single memory of her I can conjure into my kiss. Palming her ass, I lift her as she clasps her hands behind my neck, curling into me as I roll her against my length so she can feel what she does to me.
Rain begins to pelt the iron table feet away, the storm intensifying around us, mirroring the culmination of emotions inside me as I devour her, fusing them into the contact. Inhaling every one of her moans as fuel, I keep the connection, keeping the kiss going while refusing to let up.
Now that I’m positive it’s mutual, I’m not fucking letting it go. As if she senses that decision, she pulls back abruptly.
“Mon Dieu,” she pants against my lips before glancing around us frantically, “what am I doing? Tyler, put me down.”
“We’re alone, Delphine.” I blow out a harsh breath, not loosening my arms one bit. “Don’t pull away from me. Damn you,” I whisper hoarsely. “Weboth want this.”
“Are you crazy? Put me down right now,” she orders, more insistently, even as her eyes linger on my lips.
Seizing the moment once more, I capture her mouth, and her whimpered protest brings my cock to a raging status. The kiss cut far too short when she again rips herself away.
“Tyler,” she croaks, in a way I know her protest is hard won, “let me down.” Reluctantly, I release her slowly—keeping her close as possible as I do—so she can feel just how fucking much I want her. Her fast intake of breath my only consolation. Once on her feet, she turns abruptly to head back toward the house. Bending from the impact, I palm my thighs with a low “fuck” before she turns back to me on a dime.
“This never happened.” Her voice carries on the increasing wind surrounding us.
“Oh, it happened,” I snap, stalking toward her as she retreats, backing her against the brick of the house next to the open door. “We’re not breaking any fucking laws, and before you go spouting off about age and what’s appropriate, save your breath. I’m not listening to that bullshit.”
Chest heaving, her nipples spike through her dampening tube top as her body naturally draws up against me. The dim yellow porch light illuminating us enough to clearly see one another as I stand my ground.
“Denying it won’t make it true,” I whisper forcefully. “That kiss said differently, and you’re not going to convince me otherwise.”
She shakes her head incredulously. “You expect me to take this ...youseriously?”
“Yes, and when I get back from—”
“Never.” She jerks her chin. “I don’t wait for men.”
“Then I’ll be your first because I’m worth waiting for.”
She gapes at me. “Confessions of a boy with misplaced affection.”
“Declarations of a fuckingmanwho’s already matured beyond his years. I haven’t been a boy in a long time because my life and the people in it made it that way. And you know it, you fucking know it. Ask me in a year how I feel about you, and I’ll say the same, and the year after that.”
“Youdon’t knowwhat you’re saying,” she dismisses.
