Page 38 of Phantom Faceoff
“You are infuriatingly persistent,” he says with muted humor. “But I don’t dislike it.”
His eyes capture mine. “I don’t dislike you, Wildfire.”
Wildfire.Unconfined. Spreading uncontrollably and infecting others.
It’s fitting.
“I would sure hope not,” I say with a dry laugh. “I really want to kiss you.”
There it is, laid right there on the table. For him to face or reject. I’ll accept either. But I don’t want this hanging over our heads. I don’t want to feel guilty for wanting him. I don’t want it to be some big secret.
I’m horrible at keeping them anyway.
Malachi’s breath visibly hitches. His hand forms a fist on my thigh. “Zander.”
His voice holds a note of warning, of restraint on the verge of collapse.
I should pull back and let him rein himself in. Let him get his thoughts and feelings under control.
But I like the unrestrained. I like the chaos it brings.
“You want to kiss me, too.”
It’s a bold assumption. But the way he watched in that doorway—I know he wants my body, even if he won’t allow himself to indulge in the idea. Maybe I can convince him a little is okay.
It’s just a kiss.
Malachi shifts. His hand opens to get a solid grip on my hip, and I watch as he adjusts himself against the tree. He leans back, pulling me with him. His eyes are alight with the conflict he doesn’t need to say out loud.
I know I’m a bad idea.
He warned Julian away from me.
Who’s to say I won’t hurt Malachi, too?
He tugs me closer, and I cage my legs on either side of his hips. My knees press into the grass; the insides of my thighs brush the outside of his.
The hand on my hip slides up under my shirt. Goosebumps erupt across my skin where his fingers touch in a feather-light trail.
His other hand comes up and anchors itself in my hair, fingers curled against my scalp.
Please,I want to plead. I want to close the gap and let the consequences be damned because Malachi is right here. He’s here, and there’s just as much want radiating from him as I feel resonating in my own body.
I’ve never wanted someone so badly.
His grip is tight as he guides me down until our mouths hover inches apart. Warm breath glides across my cheeks, and I respond where hesitation haunts him.
I close the gap, the rough feel of his chapped lips on my own. At first, that’s all it is. Me pressing into him, and his body still as stone.
In a heartbeat, his rigidness melts away. There’s an urgency to how his lips mold over mine.
My eyes close as my focus narrows down to everything Malachi.
His mouth. His tongue. His hands.
Our thighs pressed together.
How have we never touched like this before? How have we never felt the electricity crackling between our veins and merging us together like it does now?
