Page 60 of The Trouble with Love and Ink
I cocked my head, curiosity fully piqued now, but then stopped myself. I wanted Beck to open up to me, but not like this.
My eyes lowered to his lips, and my body automatically shifted closer to his. Images of the night before flashed across my mind, of us dancing, our bodies moving together. The ghost of his touch licked across my skin. My flesh burned to have him against it once again. And then there was the almost kiss. The thought of which had kept me up for half the night.
I needed to know how those full lips would feel pressed against mine. “You don’t have to tell me.” I swallowed, trying to muster up as much of Hailey’s bravery as possible before I chickened out. “But it’s going to cost you.”
“Oh yeah?” An eyebrow rose.
“I want to scrap one of our rules.” I took a steadying breath. “Specifically, the no-kissing one.”
His tongue ran across his bottom lip, and my insides melted, pooling to the bottom of my stomach. “It’s our number one rule.”
“We’ve already broken the other ones,” I said, stepping closer.
“You said you wanted to keep things uncomplicated.” His voice was smokey, as if he was having a hard time getting the right amount of oxygen.
“I changed my mind.”
“I don’t want you to regret this later.” But his eyes snagged on my lips, his face angling towards mine.
“Then don’t do anything to make me regret it,” I said, trying to keep my tone light, but I think my silent plea threaded through: Please don’t break my heart.
Beck’s hands slid across my jaw and into my hair, cradling my head before lowering his mouth onto mine.
His lips were smooth and soft as a whisper as if he feared the moment might break. Or I would. Giving and taking, we found a slow, savoring rhythm. And between the touching of our lips, we shared breaths, which was almost as intoxicating, as intimate as the kissing itself—breathing each other in. Then, Beck’s tongue slid across my bottom lip, and I parted for him.
He backed me into the railing, no longer seeming to worry about the fragility of the situation. My nipples pinched at the thought of being cornered by him. Our tongues glided past each other in urgent exploration. My hands explored as well. Starting at the front of him—his chest, his ribs. Then they moved to his back, getting a good feel of those swimmer muscles—tight cords under soft skin.
He nipped my bottom lip, and I gasped.
Beck retreated half an inch. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?”
I pulled him back to me, and our lips met with bruising force. “Not a pain gasp,” I mumbled against his lips.
“Fuck,” he groaned into my mouth, then picked me up, setting me on the railing, mouth still on mine.
My head swam. I wrapped my legs around him, and he ran a hand from my knee up my thigh. His fingertips moved so. Achingly. Slow. But when he got to the hem of my shorts, he angled his body back and away from me, resting his head on my shoulder.
“I need a minute.” His voice was sandpaper.
I was pretty sure I knew what he meant by that, but completely beside myself, I gripped his shirt and yanked him back over. I gasped at the length of his outline pressed against my center. “You want me.” It wasn’t a question, but I was surprised.
“Are you seriously just figuring this out?”
“I guess not,” I said, thinking about the night before and the way his fingers dug into my hips as we danced, how hard he was when I pressed my ass against him. But we’d been drinking. I didn’t know how much of that was really him.
He rested his hands on my shoulders. “I’d love to show you how much I want you, Emily, but I don’t think the rainforest is the right place for that.”
“It’s probably frowned upon,” I agreed, trying to get a hold of my senses though the throbbing between my legs begged for release. Who cared if the howler monkeys saw us? My mouth went dry at the prospect of him. I swallowed, trying to get the words out before I lost my nerve. “I guess it’s a good thing we share a room. Maybe you can show me later.”
Beck’s chest heaved. His dilated pupils nearly overtook the rich brown of his eyes. “Maybe I can.”
Heat crept up my chest at the possibilities of tonight.
He moved to my side, leaning on the deck’s railing, his ribs expanding with a long inhale. Then, the movement stopped. “No way.”
“What?” I hopped off the railing.
“Right there,” he whispered. “It’s our sloth.”
