Page 52 of Romantic Hero
‘For curiosity’s sake? It ain’t that simple, Gertie.’
‘What if it is, though?’ I say, echoing what River said to me in the car when I chastised him about eating the snacks too early.
His eyebrows quirk in surprise. Then he smiles. And it’snot the cocky smile he threw me that night on the rooftop, and it’s not the charming smile he uses around everyone else or the sarcastic smile that shows up when someone says something he doesn’t agree with. It’s a slight lift of the lips and a flood of warmth in his eyes.
Not the smile of a villain.
Quite the opposite, in fact.
‘I just think—’ I start, but the rest of the sentence is replaced by a gasp when I feel River’s big strong hand on the back of my head, tilting my face ever so slightly to the left as if he needs me just so in order to get this exactly right. His tongue sweeps lightly over his bottom lip as he leans towards me, pausing halfway, our noses almost touching. My breath halts with anticipation.
‘Soverysexy,’ he groans, a tiny frown creasing his forehead.
And then all at once those perfect sulky lips are on mine, plump hot velvet and rough stubble andholy moly. River’s mouth parts mine, our tongues meeting, curious, tentative at first and then suddenly greedy.
I can’t help the immediate moan of release I make into River’s mouth. In response, his breathing quickens. He presses me back down onto the pillow, mouth never leaving mine, tongue curling gently upwards against my tongue as he snakes his arm around me, palm splayed surely across my back, the other weaving its way up into my hair.
My goodness.
River Oakley is as good at kissing as he is at dancing and charming people and doing literary quizzes. I almost saywowout loud at how just how good he is, but stop myselfbecause I’m sure I wouldn’t be the first person to have said that to him and he clearly already knows the effect he has. Those poor good women of Burnet County could attest to that, I’m sure.
River pulls away, ending the kiss, golden chest rising and falling quickly. He swears under his breath, his pupils now so large it makes his green irises appear black. He licks his lips like a wolf ready for lunch. My whole body has started pulsing. River swallows, a torn expression shadowing his face. I think he’s about to suggest that we should stop. Be sensible. Stick to the agreement. That boldNo!pops into my head once again. I don’t want to stop. This feels good. Crazy good. Before he can utter a single word, I open my mouth and what comes out is a small, breathless, ‘More.’
River’s nostrils flare. Then, with a sort of rumbling growl, he shifts further onto the bed so that his body is covering mine.
Yes.
He’s so large, but it’s not overpowering. It feels steady and safe and right. I run my hands up over his biceps, his skin so hot against my fingers. I realise with a thrill that River is rock hard beneath his jeans and, to my surprise – because I’ve never been the person who leads – I widen my knees so he’s able to lower himself dead set against me. When he groans appreciatively, I find my hips rising to meet his in response.
Somewhere in the back of my brain it occurs to me that this is now more, much more than akiss. But I know that if I stop for even a second to actually consider what we’re doing then I might halt it. River might halt it. And I very muchdon’t want to stop this sensation. Something that feels like pure relief after nothing but the full body bruise of the last four weeks.
River paws at my pyjama top, lifting it greedily. I reach a hand out to stop him because surely if we keep our clothes on then this can’t escalate into something that’ll make things way more complicated than they already are.
‘Just the kiss,’ I pant, my cheeks pinkening as River sits back onto his knees. ‘Clothes firmly onkiss.’
His chest rises and falls quickly. He looks … ravenous, eyes dark and glazed. Am I making him look like that? How is that possible? I’ve never made anyone look like that before.
‘Just the kiss,’ he agrees, tongue darting across his lower lip. ‘Aclothes firmly onkiss. Sensible, sensible Gertie.’
‘That’s me.’
With a low chuckle he easily scoops me up with one arm and swaps our positions so he is sitting up against the headboard and I’m on his lap. I reach my hands out and weave them up into his hair, tugging ever so slightly as I do.
Breath coming even faster now, River nuzzles his mouth and jaw up the side of my neck. Then he takes my bottom lip lightly between his teeth, sucking me in. I instinctively start to roll my hips against his hardness.
‘Fuck,’ he rasps, leaning back so that the angle of him is just right. ‘Fucking hell, Gertie.’
‘This okay?’ I ask.
‘Still technically a kiss,’ he groans, grabbing my bottom and pressing himself harder against me.
Even though we’re separated by the denim of his jeans and the satin of my pyjamas, the edges of my vision start to blur, a desperate groan of pleasure escaping me.
I don’t know how long we spend kissing and touching and moving in time with each other, but the illicit feeling of what we’re doing, the lines between what’s fake and what’s real, the fact that this is supposedly still just a kiss and also very much not, makes my head tip back in pure bliss.
As we start to grind more rapidly, the moans I’m making are like no sound I’ve ever made before. River uses his hands to manoeuvre my hips over the thick hard length of him, quicker and more precise with each stroke.
‘I … I …’ I start, unable to complete the sentence as a wave of hot, pure sweetness heats my limbs and steals my breath and lights my brain with a million tiny sparks.
