Page 32 of The Fangirl and the Crooner

Her cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink as she stares a hole into what’s left of her pancakes. I feel an urge to say something, anything, that will put her at ease. But anything I say could have the opposite effect, so I decide to just let her work through it on her own.

Picking up my coffee mug, I lean back in my chair and take a long sip. I stretch out my legs a bit, and my bare foot accidentally brushes against Pressley’s. She jerks it back so violently, her knee bangs into the underside of the table, setting the dishes to rattling.

“Sorry,” I say, quickly pulling my feet back toward me, and she shakes off the apology.

“It’s okay. Just surprised me, is all,” she says, refusing to make eye contact.

“Are you sure that’s all it is?” flows from mylips before I can stop it, and I silently curse myself as her blush deepens, and she still refuses to meet my eyes.

“I’m sure,” she squeaks, then hops up and carries her dishes into the kitchen.

I watch as she scrapes her leftovers into the trash and loads the plate and fork into the dishwasher. I finish eating and follow her, loading my own dishes into the machine and leaving it open as I turn to look at her. She’s leaning against the counter, staring at the wall as she finishes her coffee.

When she’s done, I hold out my hand for the empty cup. As she hands it over, our fingers brush, and a shock of electricity shoots up my arm. She must feel it too, because she gasps before jerking her hand back. Placing the cup into the dishwasher and closing the door, I feel my temper spike.

“This is stupid.”

“What’s stupid?” she asks, and I spin back to face her.

I motion between us. “This. Us. You and me. The way we’re tiptoeing around each other, pretending we both don’t want what we bothobviouslywant.”

“And what is that?” she says, the words coming out in a choked whisper.

I take a step closer, and she sucks in a deep breath and holds it. Lifting a hand, I run a gentle finger down her cheek. She exhales a shaky breath, and her tongue darts out to wet her lips.

“I want to kiss you, Pressley Glade,” I murmur as my hand reaches her throat and curls around it lightly.

“You do?” she croaks, and I nod.

“And I think you want to kiss me, too,” I add.

Her gaze drops to my mouth, her eyes dilating as that little pink tongue slips out to wet her own lips again. Pressing my fingertips a little deeper into the sides of her neck, I tug her forward an inch, and her eyes fly back up to meet mine. I lean in slowly, giving her plenty of time to stop me, but she just watches me watch her as I grow closer and closer. Her chest is heaving now, and mine is too, and the second our lips touch, her eyes fall closed.

Tilting my head slightly, I brush my lips over hers again and again, learning the feel of them against mine as all my blood rushes to my groin. They’re just as soft as I imagined. Softer, even.

She moans quietly and parts her lips, inviting my tongue inside. I don’t waste a second, slipping it in to brush against hers. She tastes like chocolate coffee and sunshine, and as I withdraw, her tongue chases mine, and her hands tangle in my hair, squeezing it in an almost painful grip.

I move forward, pushing her against the counter and bending her backward as I deepen the kiss, devouring her the way I’ve dreamed of doing for months. When she breaks away, gasping for breath, I release her throat and replace my hand with my mouth, licking and nipping my way down the column and back up again until I reach her ear.

“I want to taste every inch of you, Pressley,” I whisper.

Pressing one last kiss to the sensitive skin below her ear, I pull back so I can meet her gaze. Her eyes flutter open, and she watches me for a few beats beforenodding slowly. I can’t contain my smile as I bend my knees and hoist her up. Her legs wrap around my waist immediately, and she presses her mouth to mine as I spin and carry her to my bedroom.

Setting her on her feet beside the bed, I pull my t-shirt over my head with one hand and toss it aside. As her gaze devours my bare chest, she lifts a hand to touch me, running her fingertips over the bumps and valleys. I let her have her way for as long as I can stand it, then I grip her wrist and press a kiss to her palm, letting my tongue touch it briefly.

She gasps a ragged breath, and I bend to press my mouth to that strip of bare skin between her cropped hoodie and her pants.

“It drives me crazy every time you wear these,” I admit, pushing the material up so I can kiss a path upward.

Impatient, Pressley tugs the hoodie off, completely. I straighten, letting my gaze devour her. God, she’s beautiful. So fucking sexy.

My finger slips beneath the shoulder strap of her pale pink bra and slowly tugs it down her arm. Leaning in, I nibble the ridge of her shoulder, making her shiver. My arms circle around her, my hands meeting at the clasp of her bra. I grip the edges of the elastic and pause, silently asking for permission as my mouth moves along her shoulder to her neck.

“Please,” Pressley breathes. “Don’t stop.”

With a quick pinch, I have the clasp undone. My mouth moves back to hers, ravaging it while my hands pull her bra free. Once the garment is gone, I run mypalms over her bare breasts, kneading and testing their weight.

My heartbeat pounds in my ears as I pinch her nipples lightly, and I barely hear her moan of pleasure over the roaring. Breaking off our kiss, I lift one breast as I bend to taste the pebbled tip. Pressley makes another sound of pleasure, and my eyes flick up to catch the pure ecstasy etched on her face.

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