Page 44 of The Fangirl and the Grump

Keegan’s mouth forms an “O” as her cheeks flush. She presses her lips together, then parts them as her pink tongue darts out to moisten them. A groan vibrates in my chest at the sight of it, and her eyes widen.

Keeping that blue gaze locked on me, she picks up her abandoned fork, stabs a leftover chunk of chicken, and lifts it to her lips. Her pupils dilate a bit as she pushes the morsel into her mouth, removes the fork, and lets her eyes roll back as a moan vibrates up her throat.

My hand shoots up to gain our waiter’s attention, and I mouth the word “check” to him. When I look back at Keegan, her eyes have darkened to a deep indigo, and her chest is heaving a bit as she breathes.

“Do you want dessert?” I ask her as an afterthought, and thank fuck, she shakes her head.

Our waiter arrives with the check, and after checking the total and seeing it’s only seventy bucks, I pluck a hundred-dollar bill from my wallet and toss it down. I’m up and out of my chair in an instant, moving around to pull Keegan’s chair out for her.

Taking her hand, I pull her from the restaurant and across the parking lot, careful not to move too fast. Her short little legs have to work double time to keep up with my long strides, and the last thing I want to do is make her uncomfortable before I even get the chance to kiss her.

When we reach my truck, I move to open her door, but she spins and leans back against it. Her fingers fist in my shirt, yanking me down to her level as she pushes up on her toes to meet me halfway.

Then our lips touch, and the entire world fades away save for the feel of her against me. Gripping her hip in one hand, I push the other through her hair to curl my fingers around the back of her neck. Her lips part, and I waste no time dipping my tongue inside to get my first taste of her.

And fuck if she doesn’t taste even more delectable than I’d imagined.

I shuffle forward, pinning her against the door with my body as my mouth works hers over, licking and nipping and swallowing every sexy noise she makes. My cock is rock hard against her stomach as she tugs harder at my shirt, trying to pull me even closer.

Breaking off the kiss, I take a few beats to catch my breath as I stare into Keegan’s liquid eyes. She’s panting, too, just as affected as I am, which drives my need even higher.

“Come back to my place?” I whisper, then dip my head to kiss the side of her neck before filling my lungs with her flowery scent.

“Yes, please,” she says, and I lean back to meet her eyes again as I chuckle.

“We have to get into the truck, first.”

“Oh. Sorry,” she says, then releases her grip on my shirt so I can step back.

Pulling her with me, I reach around her to pop open the door. Helping her inside, I take the liberty of buckling her seatbelt for her just so I can lean in and peck another kiss against her mouth. That quick peck progresses quickly as she pushes her tongue between my lips, and we end up kissing for several moments before I finally break away and close the door.

And as I jog around to the driver’s side, my smile is so wide, it hurts.

ChapterNineteen

Keegan

Neither of us says a word as Trace pulls the truck out of the parking lot and onto the highway that leads back to Evening Shade. My entire body is vibrating, and I’m here for it.

Kissing Trace was unlike any other kiss I’ve ever had. His grip on me was firm and warm, and his hungry lips felt like they wanted to devour me whole. Like he was starved for it. Forme.

As starved for me as I’ve been for him.

I squeeze my thighs together in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure in my lady bits, and Trace’s hand lands on my thigh, his fingers curling over it to squeeze lightly. I suck in a sharp breath and fight the urge to grab his wrist and push his hand up beneath the skirt of my dress.

I’m asking myself why I’m fighting it instead of taking what I want when Trace speaks.

“We should probably discuss what, exactly, this is,” he says, his voice low and quiet.

I look up from his hand to meet his gaze. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he says, then pauses like he’s trying to form the right words. “You’ll be leaving, eventually. Going back to your real life. So, if we’re going to do this, we need to be realistic. We have to keep it casual. We both have to remember that this can’t be serious so that when youdoleave, no one gets hurt.”

My first instinct is to argue, to tell him we could make anything work if we both want it badly enough, but I bite my tongue to hold the words inside. He wouldn’t be starting this conversation if he wanted more than a casual fling. And if that’s all he wants…fuck, I’ll take it.

I can do this.

“We should make some ground rules,” I say slowly with a single nod.

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