Page 13 of Drift
Then I kissed her. Hard. No hesitation. And all the reasons this was incredibly stupid deserted me.
I felt her stiffen with shock, then she surrendered. She grabbed my shirt with a small gasp and pulled me closer. Then she arched against me, her soft body pressing against me, and she trembled. Not from fear. From want.
Heat spiked low in my gut, the burn sharp and insistent. Her lips opened under mine, and I took more. Everything. The taste of her was sweet and clean, something I didn’t even know I’d been starving for.
I groaned into her mouth, the sound rough and low, my hands sliding from the door to her hips, hauling her even closer until there was no space left between us. Her breath mixed with mine, fast and shallow, making my pulse pound like a hammer.
Everything I’d been holding inside—the desire, the distance, and the addiction—ignited with one hit of her.
It was too late to stop.
But I was too far gone to care.
When I pulled back just a little, needing to breathe, Alanna tried to inhale, but she ended up panting and sucking in great gulps of air. I was in a similar state.
We were standing in the wreckage of that kiss, staring like we didn’t recognize each other anymore. Maybe we didn’t.
This was different from when she walked down that aisle, and I opened my eyes, finally seeing that she’d grown up. But the woman in front of me…she was like a fantasy. And I was fucking screwed. Because now, I couldn’t tell myself that was all it was.
Not when I knew she was real and that she put every fantasy I’d ever had of her to shame. And the only thing going through my mind was…more.
Her hand found the door handle behind her, fingers fumbling. So I reached past her, twisted it open, and pushed us both through. The click of the latch sounded final. As if it was shutting the door on the man I was just a few minutes ago. One who hadn’t betrayed his brother for a taste of paradise.
Inside, it was dark except for a low lamp glowing near the couch. I walked her back until she bumped into the wall. My hand found her hip, my body crowding hers until her breath stuttered again.
Bending lower, I flicked my tongue in the hollow of her throat. She gasped, her head tipping back, giving me more. I fucking took it. My teeth scraped over her delicate skin before I bit just hard enough to hear a whimper falling from her lips as if she couldn’t hold it in.
“Fuck,” I murmured against her skin, my voice low and gritty. “You make more sounds like that, and I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.”
My mouth found her again, slower this time. Deeper, rougher, and hungrier. She answered me with another soft sound in her throat that nearly undid me.
The back of her head hit the wall, but her fingers dove into my hair. Dragging, tugging, begging. I grabbed the hem of her shirt and shoved it up, rougher than I should’ve. Her skin was warm and smooth, her stomach quivering at the light touch of my palm.
Her tongue flicked against mine—hesitant, as though she was learning me—and I lost what little patience I had left. I grabbed her hips, lifted her until her toes barely touched the floor, and pinned her in place against the wall.
Her breath broke against my mouth, and my name whispered from her lips. No…not my name.
“Chance,” I grunted.
“Huh?” Her gray eyes were cloudy with passion, the color reminding me of the sky when a thunderstorm rolled in.
“You call me Chance, baby.”
“But Jaxton told me to—um—he said no one calls you that.”
“You do.” My voice was firm. Final.
I paused, the moment suspended as I waited for her to make the choice. I told myself I wasn’t quite sure what the repercussions of it were, but that was a fucking lie. The truth was that I didn’t know how to face the reality that came with it. Yet I wanted—no,needed—to hear her call me by my first name.
Finally, she whispered, “Chance.”
It was barely a sound, but it struck me harder than a gunshot.
I pulled back an inch and rested my forehead against hers. My voice came out rough through the gravel in my chest. “You got no fucking idea what you do to me, Alanna.”
Then I kissed her again before she could answer, before I could remember why I shouldn’t.
Her shirt was already up to her ribs. I hooked my fingers under the fabric and dragged it higher. Her breath caught, soft and shaky, but she didn’t stop me. Instead, she raised her arms without a word, and the shirt landed somewhere behind me. Her bra was plain white cotton that she somehow made sexy as hell. I hated it for being in my way, so I slid my thumb under the strap. Then I yanked, hard enough for the band to snap down so one of her breasts spilled into my hand.
