Take Me On (Pushing the Limits #4)(73)

I feel the curve of her smile beneath my lips. “How is jumping better?”

“Falling happens. Jumping you choose.” And you chose to do it with me.

“I still don’t see—”

“Haley,” I cut her off while tunneling my fingers into her hair. The girl way overanalyzes. “Stop thinking and jump.”

My muscles react like I’m stepping into a hot shower as my lips melt against hers. Our bodies transform into liquid, shaping and forming into the other. Her hands roam my back and mine fist her hair. The kiss builds in intensity. Her lips are soft and pliant, and as we angle closer, Haley opens her mouth and I accept the invitation.

Our tongues meet and every cell in my body explodes to life. My hands seek lower—the curve of her waist, the hollow of her back, craving hot skin. Haley caresses my face and the intimacy of her touch weakens my knees and causes me to lose track of reality and time.

I wrap my arms around Haley’s waist and lift her so that her head is above mine and her feet dangle off the floor. Her silky hair brushes against my cheeks and I moan with the sensation. She’s tiny in my arms—a weightless feather tickling my skin.

We never break the kiss as I carry Haley to my bed. Both of her hands explore my jaw, my hair, tease the strands near the base of my neck. All of it sends a ripple of excitement through my bloodstream and the resulting shockwaves cause me to silently beg for more.

I brace her head and back for the soft tumble onto the bed. My leg lands over hers and I keep it there as I taste her neck, caress her midriff. Half of me covers her and it feeds the images of what I long to do—to completely blanket her body with mine. I yearn to touch her skin, to unbutton her shirt, to...

Haley turns her head and gasps. “West.” It’s a desperate sound full of lust and want and a whole lot of slow down.

I inhale deeply as I rest my arm across her stomach and nuzzle my nose into the sensitive part behind her ear. Haley’s delicious. She smells delicious. She tastes delicious. I could spend the rest of my life devouring her. “Yes?”

Her fingers move in my hair and her body inches closer to mine, but it’s not a sign to continue; it’s a sign that she desires more than something physical. I’ve never done more. Whenever a girl breaks away, I’m usually out of bed and out the door. For Haley, there’s more because she is more. She’s slowly becoming my everything.

With a slow kiss to her neck, I kick off my shoes and she squirms as she does the same. I draw Haley with me to the top of the bed, ignoring how her thighs shifting across my legs encourage my fantasies.

Haley’s hair cascades into a light brown halo as she settles her head into the pillow. She looks up at me with those large dark eyes and a shy smile. “This is a soft pillow.”

“I like it. It’s my favorite.”

“Is it?”

“It is now.” I warm at the sight of her in my bed lying next to me. I tuck a stray hair away from her face and the pieces of myself that felt missing suddenly return and fit.

For weeks Haley and I have talked about what home is and what it means: a building, a structure, a memory. It’s none of those things. For me, home is the contentment currently bubbling up inside me. Home is the rush of emotions buzzing in my veins.

“You asked me earlier what it was like to come home,” I say.

Haley nods. I lace our fingers together and raise them into the air. “I couldn’t answer you because I didn’t know, but now I do. This—” I rock our hands “—I finally found home.”





Haley

West and I have been officially together for a week. I swapped shifts so that I now work on Mondays and have Fridays off. This way, I can train with John in the morning, train West in the afternoon, then spend quality time with my boyfriend.

On the flat screen in West’s room, the movie ends and, to be honest, I have no idea what it was about. West watched his fingers tease and explore my body until my skin vibrated and my blood buzzed. I, for the most part, watched West.

I love the serious set of his jaw and the way he’d occasionally run his hand over his golden hair. The biceps in his arm would flex as he moved and, every now and then, his shirt would ride up, exposing his gloriously defined abs.

I’m flat on his bed and West is propped up on his side next to me. His fingers sweep across the plane of my stomach and his deep blue eyes follow an imaginary line like an artist would a paintbrush along a canvas. “You’re the sexiest damn thing. Jesus, your skin is soft.”

West shuts his eyes and I suck in a breath. This is dangerous. Very dangerous. My lips are still swollen from earlier. Kissing West is addictive. It propels me to want to kiss and touch more and travel with him to unknown and hidden places. And I secretly begin to imagine the type of kissing that involves darkness and covers and whispers.

His fingers slip under the already tucked up fabric of my shirt and he gently skims the trim of my bra. Heat explodes throughout my body and my breathing hitches. It’s frightening how I react to one simple caress.

Not good. Not good at all. Actually, it’s very good and I all but purr with his hands on my bare skin, but I need to think. I need air.

Without warning, I go to roll off the bed, but in lightning-fast movements, West captures my waist and draws me back to him. “Where are you going?”

“You’re going to kiss me again,” I say a little breathlessly.