Wicked Restless (Harper Boys #2)(23)
Then I move to her top lip, doing just the same. Tugging it into my mouth and holding it lightly with my teeth until she whimpers. My hands find their way into her hair, and she turns so more of her body is facing me, her hands sliding around my neck and back, pulling our bodies closer together.
When her tongue finally brushes against my lower lip, I know that I’m gone. I will never be the same after tonight. I’ve kissed girls, been fixed up on dates of younger siblings of people my brother knew, and I’ve had crushes.
Emma Burke is different from anything else.
She’s what I’m supposed to have. She’s what my first kiss should have been. And she’s the only kiss I ever want to remember. I kiss her harder, letting my tongue explore the inside of her mouth, letting my hands move down her back until I grab her hips and ass, pulling her into my lap to straddle me. I kiss her and touch her and memorize every frame of us, erasing everything that I ever knew of what a girl was supposed to feel like before.
We kiss like this for nearly an hour, the windows of my car frosting up with our breath. I touch her skin, letting my hands roam under her shirt, feeling her back and shoulders until I know it’s okay to feel more.
I touch her breasts, letting my fingers find every curve, my thumbs grazing her nipples and my mouth watering with the want for more. But I know that this is as far as Emma Burke wants me to go. And I’m okay with that, because this girl has me, every part of me. She owns it all, and I am willing to wait for every new touch, knowing that it will feel just the same, just as perfect as this one does.
She is what I will look forward to.
When I look at the dashboard finally, I realize it’s nearly two in the morning, and at some point, both Emma and I need to return home. I don’t want her parents to worry, so I sigh as I stare into her eyes one last time.
I reach into my pocket finally, looking for my keys, but don’t feel them. I check the other pocket and then let my hands start to search the sides of the seat when I don’t feel them there either. I’m about to slide my hand between the seat and the console when Emma starts to giggle.
“You,” I point at her. She dangles my keys from her thumb, fumbling with the door handle and finally racing from my car as I lunge at her. I get out of my side and race after her, catching her only a few steps away, pulling her into my arms and lifting her in front of me. She kicks her feet up into the air as I raise her, her entire body rumbling with the vibration of her laugh.
“Girl, you are going to make your parents hate me if I don’t get you home before they notice you’re gone,” I say, reaching for the keys as she pulls them into her chest.
“I know. We can go, but…” she looks at the keys in her hand then up to me. “Can I drive? I know, I know…it’s your car and she’s some Camaro or something, but…”
“I don’t know,” I say, feeling a little bit like an * over the fact that I don’t want her to drive my car.
“It’s…it’s okay. It was a dumb idea, never mind,” she says, handing my keys back to me. I take them and follow her back to the car, but I grab her fingertips just as we get to the front of the car, pulling her into me.
“Here,” I say, closing her hand around the keys while I kiss her one last time.
“Really?” Her voice is almost a squeal, and I can tell how excited she is. I nod yes, then move to the passenger door, climbing inside. Emma slides in excitedly next to me, pushing the key in quickly and turning the engine before we’ve even buckled up.
“Whoa,” I say, grabbing my belt and buckling fast.
“Oh, right. Sorry…” she says, biting her lip. “I was anxious, and I didn’t want you to change your mind.”
“It’s okay, just…take it easy. This car has some kick, all right?”
She nods and buckles her belt, checking all of the mirrors and turning on the lights before moving the shift into reverse. The car rumbles as she backs out slowly, her lip firmly planted in her teeth now. I don’t think she’s letting go, and her concentration is my second-favorite expression she makes. My first, the one she makes right before I kiss her. She idles her way to the exit, turning slowly onto the main roadway, and she glances at me before she looks back to the road, scooting forward in her seat, clutching the wheel, and pressing on the gas.
We travel for about a mile, going maybe thirty miles per hour, and eventually I start to laugh.
“Don’t make fun of me,” she chides, reaching at me with one hand, but only for a second, returning her grip to the wheel.
“I’m sorry, you’re just so damn cute,” I say. “You’re so nervous. It’s a car, you just drive it.”
“I drive my mom’s Honda Civic. It’s…like…way different. Trust me,” she laughs nervously. She’s constantly looking over her shoulder, then in both mirrors. We’ve made it maybe two of the ten miles we need to travel.
“I know, trust me. I drove my mom’s boyfriend’s Buick, remember?”
She glances at me and smiles, then looks back to the road, relaxing a little more into her seat, the gas flowing a little heavier as our speed finally climbs up to forty-five.
“I loved that car, too,” she says, blushing for a different reason now.
“You know I tried to be your partner for square dancing first, right?” I say, taking in her profile. I love the slope of her nose and the high roundness of her cheeks.