Page 21 of Sweet Ache (Driven 6)
So many words fill my head but I know I need distance from the heat of his body clouding my thoughts. I step back again, aiming to free myself from the small space but only succeed in pressing my ass further against his groin.
I sidestep immediately, our bodies separating as I bump my back against the wall behind me in an ungraceful escape. “I’m not rushing,” I lie. “Just making sure I show you everything you need to know before class starts. I can slow it down some if you’d like?” I ramble the words out, choosing to focus on the Def Leppard logo on his black shirt instead of meet his eyes.
“Nice and slow is always good—don’t you think, Quinlan?”
I snort out a laugh, nerves front and center so that the quip is off my lips without thought. “Guys like you wouldn’t know slow if it hit you in the face.” The comment gives me a little better bearing, and I arch a brow at him, daring him to respond and grant me the argument I’m pushing for. A confrontation that will piss him off so he’ll steer clear of me and the trouble we’d cause each other.
“You think you have me pegged, don’t you? I assure you, square or round, I don’t fit in any predetermined hole.” With our sunglasses off, I can’t deny the question in his eyes like I could on the way here. Just as I can’t hide the truth in mine.
But I’m damn well going to try.
“You don’t have to fit in any hole for me to be right. My brother used to be just like you…. Hell, I probably know your game better than you do.” I quirk an eyebrow, waiting for the comment I can see on the tip of his tongue.
“Maybe I only want to fit in one hole,” he says softly as he takes a step into me, our bodies close, eyes locked, and libidos begging for the physical connection that we’re both fighting. I should be pissed at his comment, should think it sounds corny, but holy hell that melodic tone to his voice makes it sound anything but. “Go out on a date with me.”
My breath hitches and mind consents but my feet step back, reminding me I have nowhere to run. I falter against the wall behind me, emotions whirling and warring at a breakneck pace.
“Bet you didn’t guess I was going to ask that now, did you?”
I hope he doesn’t notice the slight hesitation before I respond with a laugh. “Smooth, but uh, no thanks.” Despite the words, my mind says yes.
He angles his head and his eyes lock onto mine—daring me to look away. “Then why do I make you so nervous?”
I can’t help but glance down at his lips and then back up to his eyes as every part of me wonders what they’d feel like on mine. My tongue darts out and wets my bottom lip in reflex and the slow curl of his mouth tells me he notices it.
The grip I have on logic weakens in the confined space, my fingers restless to reach out and draw him into me.
“You don’t.” I murmur the words, captivated by the proximity of his lips and the hunger in his eyes. I close mine to break the connection for a moment before opening them, resolve firmly back in place.
“Mm-hm, and yet earlier I asked you why you didn’t like me and you ignored it. Your lack of an answer leads me to believe just the opposite. Why fight it? You do like me don’t you?”
“Like I said, I’ve been surrounded by guys like you my whole life. No thank you.”
“I bet none of them have done this.”
His moves into me at such a slow pace that he grants me every chance to reject his advance. But I don’t. My quick inhale fills my lungs but nothing else fazes me because I’m completely focused on the descent of his mouth.
He brushes his lips against mine. Once. Twice. I’m so lost in the feeling that I don’t even realize his hands are gently cradling my face. Fingertips calloused by guitar strings angle my head to the side the same time my lips part, and the need to taste him is my only focus.
Our tongues meet in a gentle caress of heat and desire. A mixture of curiosity and lust, need and hesitancy. My hands are on his biceps, fingernails digging into muscular flesh as he deepens the kiss.
My body reacts instantly to his subtle claiming of my mouth. It might be light brushes of lips and licks of tongues but the ache deep within me burns so strong I emit a pained moan. There is just something about Hawkin that has me wanting so much more than a stolen kiss.
His thumb brushes over the line of my jaw as his other hand runs down the length of my back, pulling me into him. Our bodies battle the desire, wanting more but not taking it.
“Stop!” I cry out when something in me sparks to
life. I can’t explain the feeling but it scares the hell out of me and has me pushing him away with a half-assed protest that sounds less than convincing. But how can it sound otherwise when my thoughts, my senses, my lips are consumed by the taste of him.
He leans back, lips parted and eyes wide with confusion. All I can do is shake my head back and forth to express my rejection. “I just … We can’t.” I fumble for the right words to say and then just say screw it. I turn on my heel and run up the stairs of the auditorium as he shouts my name behind me.
I push open the doors, needing the fresh air to clear my head and help with what I can only describe as a mini panic attack. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me, but I wave away Axe as he starts to approach me and walk a few more feet to a bench near the shade of a tree.
I sit down, lean my elbows on my knees, and hang my head down to try to calm myself. I close my eyes, welcoming the cool breeze on my face, when it hits me why I’m so freaked out.
I’ve kissed a lot of men. But never have I been so lost in a kiss that when I closed my eyes I saw tomorrows and ever-afters. Certainly not with Rick, and not with any man I’ve been with. Shit, I’m the last one on the planet to believe in the fairy-tale crap and yet there they were, vivid and in my face.
Frustrated and confused, I blow out an exhale and lift my eyes. Everything around me—students, buildings, bikes—blends together as I try to wrap my head around the irony of it all. I don’t usually think this way, don’t want these type of things—marriage, monogamy, kids, the death of spontaneity—at this point in my life, if ever. It’s just not my driving force. I’ve been in school forever, am about to graduate and dive headfirst into my dream career in film production, so they aren’t even a blip on my radar.
