Page 85 of Inked Heart
Her breath catches and mine does, too.
“Damien...”
The way she says my name isn’t careful anymore.It isn’t friendly and it sure as fuck isn’t safe.It’s the sound of someone standing right at the edge of a decision.
I don’t think and I don’t wait.My hand simply slides from hers to her waist and I pull her in.Her back hits the side of the truck with a soft thud and my mouth is on hers before either of us can pretend this isn’t happening.
This kiss is different than any others we have shared before.Not rough or reckless but hungry in a way I’ve been trying not to be around her for months.
She makes this small sound against my mouth that goes straight to my cock.Her hands come up immediately, no hesitation and no surprise, gripping my jacket like she’s been waiting for me to do exactly this.
I shouldn’t kiss her like this outside.Not here.Not like this.But she leans into me instead of away and that’s it.That’s the end of my frayed restraint.A man can only handle so much.
My hand slides around her side and grips her ass, pulling her closer, and she presses against me like she belongs there.Like she always has.
Her fingers curl into my collar.“Damien,” she breathes against my lips.
It’s not a warning or even a protest.It’s permission and I take the opportunity to kiss her deeper, slower this time, letting myself feel it instead of fighting it.
Her mouth softens under mine immediately, like she’s been holding back just as long as I have.I know if I don’t stop now, we’re not making it inside.That realization hits hard enough that I pull back before instinct can take over completely.
Her lips part slightly when I move away and her eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them.
“We should go inside,” I say, my voice lower than it should be.
She nods once but she doesn’t step away and neither do I.For a second longer we just stand there breathing the same air.Then I take her hand again and this time I don’t let go.
The house feels different the second the door closes behind us.Quieter, closer, and more charged.I flip the TV on out of habit more than intention and the screen fills the room with light and soft background noise, but neither of us is paying attention to it.
Quinn drops her cardigan over the arm of the couch like she already knows she isn’t leaving anytime soon.
I should say something, offer her a drink or make conversation.Do something normal.But instead I reach for her again.My hand finds her waist before I even realize I’ve moved.
She looks up at me, but she doesn’t step back, doesn’t even pretend she might.
“You’re not going to sit all the way over there,” I tell her quietly, glaring at the far side of the couch like it personally offended me.
A small smile pulls at her mouth.“No?”
“No.”I sit first and pull her with me and she lets me.
She doesn’t resist even a little when I guide her closer instead of letting her take the far end of the cushion.She ends up right beside me, closer than polite, closer than safe.But exactly where I want her.
The TV plays something neither of us is watching and her knee brushes mine.Then stays there.Her shoulder leans into my arm, then stays there, too.
I slide my hand along the back of the couch behind her and when she shifts slightly closer like she’s responding to it without thinking, something in my chest tightens.
“You’re not even pretending to watch,” she murmurs.
“Neither are you.”I counter.
“Is it that obvious?”
“Yes.”My voice is lower and gravelly.
Her fingers slide lightly along my forearm.Not accidental, not hesitant, but curious and deliberate, like she’s testing what happens if she touches me.So I answer the question for her.My hand leaves the back of the couch and settles at her waist again and this time I don’t pretend it’s temporary.
She inhales softly but she doesn’t move away.Instead she shifts closer.Like she’s choosing this, choosing me.
