Page 95 of Some Like It Fox

My face crumples. “I’m miserable without you.” I throw my arms around him, dropping my clothes to the concrete and stretching up to press my mouth to his.

Without hesitation, he wraps me up, our lips moving in tandem like they didn’t just spend over a week apart.

I hold his face in my hands, pulling back to look into his eyes. “You’re really here.”

“I’m really here.”

“You look like shit.” His scruff is longer than normal, his eyes red-rimmed, hair messy, shirt wrinkled.

He huffs out a laugh. “You look incredible.”

My head tilts to one side. “You’re a terrible liar. How did you find me?”

“Jake.” His hands rub up my arms, sliding to my neck, his fingers stroking against the side of my face, his eyes dazed like he can’t quite believe he’s touching me.

“Jake? Oh. Yeah, that weird conversation makes more sense now. But I just talked to him a few hours ago. It would have taken you way longer to fly out here from Whitby.”

“I drove here from Sacramento.”

My mouth pops open. “Why were you in Sacramento?”

He bites his lip. “I was looking for you. I had to rent a car and make the drive after Jake called to tell me where you were.”

My brows fly up. “What would you have done if I wanted to stay in California?”

“I would have asked if you had any space in your bus for me.”

Stunned, I stare at him. “You would leave Camp Aria, your family, all of it, for me?”

His dark eyes search mine. “Taylor, I can’t even begin to describe what I would do for you.”

With a startled cry, I kiss him again, running my hands up his chest, and then down to his waist. It’s not enough. I wrench away to drag him over to the bus, grateful I left the bed down and invested in curtains for the windows.

Frantic, we undress each other. The only sound is the whisper of our clothes hitting the floor and our panting breaths.

His hands delve into my hair, tilting my head while he ravages my mouth, taking me apart and then piecing me back together, and still, it’s not enough.

“I need you inside me.” I lie back, tugging him with me.

He shifts over me, arms braced on either side of my head, his blunt head pressing against my entrance. His mouth sips at mine as he pushes inside, hard and insistent.

Yes.

I grip at his lower back, pressing at him, rocking my hips to drive him deeper, but he’s in no hurry, sinking into me one inexorable inch at a time. His powerful frame trembles with leashed force as he sinks the full way in, lifting his head up to meet my gaze.

We shudder together, grasping at the moment like it might slip away. My hands glide up his body to close around his nape.

His eyes are raw, possessive, full of primal heat scorching me from the inside out.

Then we move, our bodies rocking in unison, a slow and tender dance. He lifts one hand to brush against my skin, cupping my breast, drawing circles around the sensitive peaks.

I lift my legs and lock them around him. Minutes later, pleasure ripples through me without warning, a wave that crashes into him and sucks him under, both of us groaning in the aftermath of release.

When I return to my body, I’m splayed on top of Atticus, clutching at his tree of life necklace like it’s a lifeline, a rope tethering me to him.

“Are you hungry?” His chest vibrates under my cheek as he talks.

My stomach growls.

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