Page 30 of Seen
He laughs, a little breathless as he sinks into the cushions. Cheeks flushed, his eyes dart down to my mouth, then back up again, as if he’s not allowed to look that long.
“Um…yes. A lot.” His voice is shaky, and his hands lie uncertain on his knees. “Way too many.”
I ease onto his lap, settling my weight with one knee either side of his thighs. “You want some help getting rid of them?”
He moves his hands to my waist, curling his fingers tight into the fabric of my T-shirt. “Yeah.”
My first kiss is a light brush stroke, asking a question immediately answered by his soft sigh. Parting his lips, Luke leans in closer, yielding to the kiss. I let him take the lead. It’s awkward for half a second—all pressure and breath and the leftover taste of chocolate. Then, suddenly, he moans again, and after that, nothing has ever felt more natural. As our mouths move together, my hands do their own thing, gripping him tighter, pulling him closer, measuring the shape of him. When I shift in his lap, he bites down on my bottom lip, then licks into my mouth, and I lick into his in return. After that, for a long while, we get lost in some good old-fashioned hungry, messy snogging.
When we come up for air, Luke makes a frustrated sound, and I wholly concur. All dazed softness, he pulls me back down again, wrecked in the best possible way.
“Kick your shoes off,” I urge, doing the same. “I want to get closer to you.”
I manoeuvre us sideways until Luke’s on his back against the cushions and I’m above. With him stretched out beneath me, my dick concludes its recent lack of interest was nothing but a series of bad dreams. Horniness blooms like it never went away. If I can still do this with a hot guy, who cares if my eyes are shutforever? They’re redundant right now anyhow, shuttered tight. This kissing thing is taste and touch and smell and… fuck me, Luke’s uninhibited guttural moans. His hands clench my waist even tighter. I need them there—I swear I’d fall through the sofa if he let go.
Who knew quiet, hesitant Dr Luke Sinclair would feel this fucking good?
This time, once we come up gasping, a smile creases the corners of Luke’s swollen, reddened mouth. He’s trying not to grin, but it’s escaping anyhow. I return it with one of my own, seeing as I can’t fucking suppress it either.
“Got rid of them all yet?”
Messing a little with him, I grind my hips against the delicious ridge of his boner. I'm a man of my word, so I’m not going anywhere near it tonight unless he comes right out and asks for it. But, bloody hell, I’d like to.
“Not yet.” He blushes as I press down on him once more. “Nearly got rid of that, though.”
I laugh. “And they say the art of dry humping is dead.”
“We’re resuscitating it.”
I kiss him again, but with less intensity. My tongue trails down his neck to smooth skin disappearing under his hoodie. He smells washing powder-y and warm. I’d like to explore further, but I’d never ask him to take it off. Reluctantly, I bring my mouth back up to his face and, resting my weight on one arm, make sure he’s tucked back in.
“Oops, sorry. I’ve made a mark on you.” Just below his left ear, purplish and undeniable.
Reflexively, Luke brings his hand up to it. “I don’t mind. I’ve never had one before.” He gives me a little smile. “It shows I’m in the game.”
“But only with me,” I counter, because now I’ve found him, I’m not sharing.
“All right.”
I kiss him on the nose. “There’d be no wars in the world, if people spent more time kissing like this, instead of rowing and fighting.”
“You reckon?”
“Yep. One hundred percent.”
His hazelly-green eyes stare into mine, pupils big and dark. “You’re not like I thought you’d be. In the club, you’re sort of larger than life. Someone I’d never probably get around to talking to because we’d have nothing in common.”
His perception of me comes as no surprise, which isn’t the same as saying I like it. I could have been missing out on whole teams of hot-but-reticent guys like Luke. Okay, maybe not quite as hot as Luke. The fact he downplays his assets is part of his charm. On the outside, he’s shy and anxious, and, clearly, he’s had some issues. Peel some of that reserve back, though, and he’s quietly confident, cures diseases for a living, and kisses like a demon.
“How wrong can you be?” I pretend to be affronted. “Turns out we have kissing in common.” To demonstrate, I snog him again.
“And plenty of germs too, by now.”
“I hope you’re not suggesting I’m dirty,” I tease.
“I know you are.” He trails a finger down my cheek. “You’re on your best behaviour.”
We kiss a lot more. When I hook up with someone, everything usually moves so fast. I’d forgotten how electric doing nothing but sucking someone’s face off can feel.
