Never Tied Down (The Never Duet #2)(27)

His arm gave me a gentle squeeze and I knew it was time to get up. I frowned again, but moved away from him, leaning down to grab my shoes. We didn’t say anything as we stood, but he reached down and took my hand, linking our fingers, and leading the way.

It had been so long since I held his hand; all the schoolgirl butterflies came back, flooding my belly. Instinctively, my free hand wrapped around his arm, holding that sexy, strong part of him close to me.

He walked me all the way to my car, taking my keys from me and opening my door. I smiled at his familiar chivalrous ways, then turned to tell him thank you. I was startled by his body pressing into mine, forcing me to back up into the side of my car. His hands were suddenly resting on the curve of my hips, mine finding their natural resting place against his chest, and my face turning up to look at him. My breathing sped up and my eyes searched his, hoping I’d see something in them that would give me answers to the questions spinning in my head with his body pressed so firmly against mine.

“I miss you.” His voice was low and raspy, as if he didn’t want anyone else in the world to hear his words except me. “I like this, spending time with you, but I still feel like you’re an arm’s length away.” His tender eyes moved back and forth as he took mine in. Perhaps he was searching for answers too. I wanted to give him everything I could.

“I’m right here,” I replied, my voice just as low, just as full of emotion. “I know you’ve been waiting, and we’re nearly there. I just don’t want to fall back into something to have it blow up in my face. I want to be sure.”

His hands moved from my waist, traveling up my back, putting gentle pressure on me, pushing my chest into his, forcing my hands to wind around his neck. We were so close; his nose was touching mine, our breaths intermingling. I could feel the rapid thumping of his heart through the thin cotton of his t-shirt, the buckle of his belt pressing into my belly. I was on my tiptoes, stretching, reaching, arching to him, trying to give him as much of me as I could in that moment. His hands spread wide across my shoulder blades, hot and wild, pulling me in to him.

And then his lips were on mine. It was soft at first; hesitant. Slow and fragile. He kissed me as if he were afraid I was going to dissolve around him. His plush lips brushed over mine and I couldn’t move. I was frozen, hoping this wasn’t one of my many dreams where Riot held and kissed me through the night, only to wake up and find he wasn’t there. I whimpered as his lips pressed against mine with just a fraction more pressure, then nearly collapsed when his tongue traced my bottom lip.

I slowly opened, tentatively dipped my tongue out to meet his, and then we both cracked.

We fractured.

We exploded.

Suddenly, kissing him was more important than breathing. More important than living and seeing and being. All that mattered was his mouth pressed against mine.

Hands grasped at each other, trying to hold on to any part they could find purchase on. My fingers ran through the soft, short hair at his nape, and one of my legs lifted to wrap around his hip. He immediately wrapped one hand around the back of my knee, pulling our centers closer, and then, without warning, he slowly thrust against me.

All I could feel, all I could process, was the ridiculously hard and delicious pressure of his denim-clad cock pressing against my center. Slowly dragging up, causing every nerve in my body to shoot into overdrive, every synapse to fire, every sensory indicator to short circuit. I pulled my mouth away to moan, unable to keep quiet, unable to pretend the contact hadn’t just totally incinerated me from the inside out.

It had been months since my body had felt anything outside of despair and grief, so to suddenly be thrust into sexual overdrive, well, it was a lot to handle. I couldn’t take in enough air, couldn’t hold my hands steady, as they were shaking with need. My heart was thundering in my chest, racing toward oblivion. And it all felt wonderful.

Riot thrust against me one more time, my moan a little louder and a lot needier when his mouth moved down my throat, leaving kisses like breadcrumbs.

“Riot,” I groaned, loving the way his lips trailed along my skin. “Someone could see us out here.”

“I don’t f*cking care,” he said, his hand moving from the back of my knee up to grab my ass, pressing our centers together even more. I let him. I let him feast for just a moment more because I was in love with the way I was feeling just then. I felt light, wanted, and free. I felt as though I were floating above us, as if I were watching someone else because, certainly, this was not me. I didn’t live a life where I pushed a man away and he understood why. Where I yelled and screamed at him, blamed him for something so terrible, and he waited patiently, knowing I’d loved him all along. This had to be someone else’s life.

So I let him kiss every part of my skin available to him in that parking lot, let his hands roam over my clothed body, and I loved every single second of it.

Just as I knew he would, he finally came back from the momentary lust-induced insanity, dropped my leg, and simply returned to sweet kisses laid softly on my mouth.

“Fuck, I missed you, Kal.”

The way he said my name, the way his thumb moved over my bottom lip, the heavy way he held me as he said those words, it all swirled around me and I melted into him a little bit more.

“I missed you too.”

“Have I got you back now? Is this for real? I want this. I want us.”