Page 44 of Our Darkest Summer
“Thomas,” I breathed.
What was I doing? Why was I constantly torturing myself?
His jaw clenched. “You have no idea,” he exhaled, resting his forehead against mine. “No idea how much I want this.”
A shiver tore through me, but it wasn’t from the cold. My hands wandered over the hard lines of his chest before my fingers slid into his dark hair, threading through the damp strands. I wanted to blame it on the alcohol, but the truth was, my head felt clearer than it had all night.
He cocked his head and cupped my jaw with his hand, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. I wasn’t breathing.
“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he groaned, but slowly leaned closer, his lips brushing mine, soft, barely there. “I shouldn’t be here with you.”
A sharp ache built in my chest.
“You shouldn’t,” I whispered, agreeing, but all I really wanted to say was,Why?
The air between us thickened enough to bring a match to life. To burn. To consume. His gaze dropped to my mouth with hunger, and his hand flexed on my waist.
“We’ll both regret it.” His breath melted against my cheek, warm and sweet and inviting.
My knees turned weak, my throat dry from the heat. “We will,” I agreed again, the words jagged, sounding more like a question than a statement.
Thomas drew in a shaky breath, his eyes hazy, tortured almost, like he was torn between right and wrong. Between leaving and staying.
“Fuck it.”
His lips captured mine, and heat rushed through me, igniting like a flame that could never be blown out. His mouth was hot, demanding, claiming me like he had been starved for this. My fingers fisted in his hair, pulling him closer. I needed him closer. A deep, guttural sound vibrated in his chest. God, I had been waiting for this for months.
He lifted me, wrapping my legs around his waist, and I melted against him, wanting more. Wantingallof him.
The feel of his body pressing into mine was intoxicating. “Fuck,” he breathed against my mouth, low and rough, like it had been caged inside him. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”
You did?I asked, though it was more of a breathless moan than anything else, and after a moment I wasn’t even sure I said it.
His hands roamed down, gripping my thigh beneath the water, while my back pressed against the slick wood of the pier. His lips moved from my mouth to my neck, a warm, wet trail of kisses and teeth making my head spin. I’ve never felt this alive.
I buried my face in his shoulder, inhaling his scent—autumn leaves, rain,him.
I wanted to memorize it. To steal it.
To take everything that defined Thomas Rhodes and keep it all for myself.
His hand curled around my thighs rougher, his lips moving to my collarbone, sucking and teasing. A breathless moan escaped me.
His grip tightened. “Sage,” he murmured, his lips trailing back to my jaw, my temple.
I shivered in his arms.
“Nine letters,” he breathed against my skin. “First letterM. A paradoxical condition wherein the source of your frustration becomes the object of your obsession.”
My brows knit. “You think I’m maddening?”
“You’ve no idea,” he said, then kissed me again, softer this time, like he was memorizing every second of it.
I curled my fingers around the soaked fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer.
A tiny voice in my head screamed that I should stop, that this was dangerous, that I should walk away while I still could.
But I didn’t want to walk away. I wanted to stay. To be here. Withhim. In this glass-like moment, that seemed so very breakable.
