Page 129 of The Confidant
“Your heart is beating so fast,” she said when her hands had slipped up to my chest.
“I know,” I said, my voice sounding rough and deep. “You do it to me.”
“Want to feel mine?” she asked.
“Um…” I swallowed, not sure I should say yes since her heart was way too close to other parts of her body that I shouldn’t be allowed to touch right now.
But instead of waiting for me to answer her question, she took my hand in hers and pressed it to her neck like she’d done on Presidents’ Day weekend.
“Can you feel it?” she asked.
It took me a moment to concentrate enough to register her pulse with all the other things going on in my head, but I felt the steady beat a moment later and managed to croak out a, “Yeah. I can feel it.”
“What about here?” she asked. Then watching me carefully, like she was waiting to see what I would do, she slowly moved my hand lower, slipping it just inside the collar of her pajama shirt until it rested over her heart. Her skin was slightly clammy, like our kisses had made her warm, but she was also so soft there.
I shook the thought away and forced my concentration away from all things soft and focused back to what she was trying to show me. Her heartbeat.
“Your heart is beating fast, too,” I managed to say.
Probably just as fast as mine.
She met my eyes, her gaze tender as she said, “It always beats that fast when I’m with you.”
Our lips met again, and when our tongues tangled and danced together, a delicious warmth spread all over my body.
When Scarlett rolled back against her soft mattress, I followed—instinctively covering her body with mine. As the weight of my body on hers crushed her against the bed, I realized that having her body fully beneath mine felt somehow even better than all the times I’d imagined it.
“That’s nice,” she whispered between kisses, her eyes darting down to our bodies and indicating how we were pressed together now.
“I know.” I sighed. “You feel so good, Scarlett.”
43
SCARLETT
How haveI known Hunter for all these years and never allowed us to be this close before?I was sure we were probably really close to that line I wasn’t supposed to cross before marriage, but instead of feeling guilty or scared, all I felt was warm and happy and exhilarated.
Being in his arms like this with his lips weaving a magic spell over my mind was about as good as life could get as far as I knew. I didn’t know how anything could feel better than this. It was all encompassing. And though my lips were swollen, and the slightest bit of stubble that he had was rough against my sensitive skin, I didn’t care—it showed me that this moment was actually real, and we were really doing this together and making each other feel so good.
He felt wonderful. I knew we were already so close, but when his hands smoothed down my sides and my hands slipped across his back, all I wanted was more of this. More of him.
I wanted to feel more of his skin against mine. I slid my hands across his back again. Noticing that his shirt had already ridden halfway up his torso from our kissing and touching, I decided to push it farther up his sides to help him out of it.
If this was going to be one of the last times I got to kiss Hunter, I was going to make it count.
Hunter went still for a second when he realized I was trying to take his shirt off, like he hadn’t expected me to do it. “Is this okay?” I asked, making sure I wasn’t pushing a boundary he didn’t want to cross.
His eyes were black when he looked at me, but he nodded and said, “Of course it’s fine.”
To help assist me, he pushed himself up so that he was kneeling on the bed. Since I didn’t want him taking off his shirt without me, I got to my knees as well and helped tug it over his head, tossing it onto the nightstand beside my bed.
He pulled me against him, and we kissed like that for a few minutes before he scooted back against my headboard and pillows. With him in an inclined position, which made his abs look somehow even better, he pulled me onto his lap, my legs straddling his hips.
His hands went to my waist and smoothed down my legs. After I took in his bare torso and admired his amazing physique, I lifted my eyes to his for a moment of intense eye contact.
It was so hot—the way he was looking at me. It was like I was the only thing he’d ever wanted in his whole life. Like I was beautiful and sexy, and hewantedme in all the ways a man would want a woman he loved.
He slid his hands back up my legs, his fingertips just barely grazing the skin under the hem of my shorts before pushing them along my hips and across my back, setting me on fire everywhere he touched.
