Page 40 of Marked By Tank
“That’s not what happened before,” I say.
Her throat moves. “You said not like this.”
“Yeah.”
“That sounded like no.”
I look at her mouth for one second too long. Pink. Kiss-swollen. Mine.
“It meant if I kept going, I wasn’t stopping.”
Her breath catches.
Good.
I lean in a little closer. “It meant I wanted too much.”
Color climbs up her throat and into her cheeks.
Still she whispers, “I kissed you.”
Like it is something to be ashamed of.
I shake my head once. “Best damn thing you could’ve done.”
Her eyes flash to mine.
There she is.
I rise slowly until I am standing between her knees. Her hands stay in her lap, but they twist together once. Nervous. Wanting. Trying not to be either one.
I put a hand under her chin and tip her face up.
“You still want me?”
Her breathing changes.
“Yes.”
“Use your words, angel.”
The word hits her hard. I see it.
“Yes,” she whispers again. “I want you.”
Christ.
I kiss her before I say something rougher than I should.
The second my mouth touches hers, her hands fly to me. One fists in my cut. The other grabs the front of my Henley. That little desperate clutch damn near strips the last clean thought out of my head.
I kiss her deep and slow at first. Let her feel every second of it. Let her know exactly what she does to me. Then her mouth opens for me and that is the end of slow.
I make a rough sound into her mouth and pull her closer.
She gasps.
I drag her up off the bed and into me, one hand locked at her waist, the other in her hair, and kiss her until she is soft against me and breathing like she cannot get enough air.
