Page 589 of Summer Heat
Which is why her standing there in total silence after what I just revealed is making me fucking crazy.
I want to hear her. Without a filter. Reacting and responding. To me.
Right here. Right fucking now.
12
| SUMMER |
TUESDAY
(Time: Daytime? I think. Ask me again later.)
He’s kissing me.
Jason Steele has his mouth on mine. Right here on the jobsite in the middle of a work day.
But the where and when of the matter isn’t nearly as pressing as the why at the moment. As in why in the world did he hold back the last time?
The brief kiss we’d shared in his penthouse had been great. Amazing, even. But it had nothing on what his mouth is doing to mine now. This kiss is…raw, elemental. Mind-erasing.
Absolutely consequence-deserving.
To a certain extent.
Lord knows I’ve been dreaming about this for weeks now (longer if I’m being totally truthful). But here? At work? Where anyone could walk into the trailer and see us?
I should pull away.
Instead of heeding that extremely sound advice, however, my arms decide to slip around his neck and draw him closer.
Only, the second I do, he breaks off the kiss. “We should stop,” he murmurs roughly, his eyes stormy, his hands flexing against my hips.
So we’re in agreement. Stopping is definitely the way to go here.
But…we’re not going to. I know it, he knows it.
“I wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you,” he mutters in a gritty, strained voice. “Then you woke my ass up that first morning and decided to show me all your crazy at once. No down-playing, no easing me in.” His forehead comes down to rest on mine. “And I fucking wanted you even more.”
Good lord, that’s just about the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.
I feel his hands smooth up my sides and then stop abruptly. His entire frame goes rigid with tension, as if the struggle for him is just as real as it is for me.
The longer he holds himself back, the more I try to as well, the entire battle lasting all of two heartbeats before I slowly go up on my tiptoes and graze my lips along his lower lip.
He tastes minty. And hot. If hot could be a flavor, Jason Steele would have the monopoly on it.
A split second later, he’s returning the favor, capturing my lower lip between his teeth while his eyes lock on me as his hand slides around to the back of my skull to hold me hostage.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” he murmurs, his lips on mine once more, sending heat searing through my chest, and emotions I’ve never felt before ricocheting around behind my ribs. “Your perfect little body has been driving me crazy for months now.”
My body is far from perfect. My breasts are small. Not nearly full enough to make any noteworthy cleavage to speak of, but just bouncy enough that I’ll never pass for sporty. My legs are littered with construction scars I’ve gathered from different jobsites over the years. And my butt is a little too round for my small frame.
But right now, while he’s gazing down at my body with that searing hunger heating his gaze a thousand degrees hotter with each passing second, I feel desirable, beautiful.
It’s a heady feeling.
He trails his lips down my throat. “Tell me to stop, Summer.”
