Falling into You (Falling #1)(51)

Ohmigod. God. He takes the dare. Palm on my belly at first, I think he might go south, and I think he considers it, then moves up, north to the hem of my shirt. I was already holding my breath, but my throat gets tighter, my lungs burn, my heart either stops beating or pounds wildly, I can’t decide which.

Then his rough and gentle and huge hand cradles my breast beneath the shirt. I haven’t taken a breath in at least thirty seconds. Oh god, oh god, ohmigod. His hand feels so amazing. Scratchy, hard. My breasts are fairly big, C-cups, almost a D, but he can palm one easily. His palm scrapes my nipple, and now my breath blasts in, rushing through me and making me dizzy.

“Colton…” I duck my head and bury my forehead on his shoulder.

“Look at me, Nell,” he commands, softly but firmly. I do. His eyes are hooded and serious. “Turning point, right here. You don’t want this, you have to tell me now. Get up and go. This’ll all be forgotten. I’ll be your friend. But say so now. ‘Cause any further, we’re in it all the way.”

I gulp. I nod. I bite my lip and look away.

“God, fuck me. Don’t do that,” he says, his voice ragged.

I’m puzzled. “Do what?”

“Bite your lip. It drives me wild. Bite your lip and it’s over. Your mouth is mine.” His voice is so rough, now, so raw and raspy it vibrates against me and sizzles deep in my core.

“Good to know,” I whisper.

He moves his hand away. “Decide now, Nell. All in, you’re mine, or we pretend this never happened.”

“I’m yours?” My voice is soft and tremulous.

“You asking? Or telling?”

“I—Colton, I couldn’t forget…but we—” I cut myself off, knowing I’m an incoherent mess.

Unconsciously, I bite my lip again, and Colton growls.

“I fucking told you. Don’t…do…that. I can’t take it. My control is in shreds here, and you’re biting your lip again.”

“Why does it make you so crazy?” I ask, playing for time.

Time for what, I don’t know. I know what I want. But now…with Colton becoming the direct and commanding person again, I’m shy, unsure, insecure, afraid. I’m all over the damn place. Molesting him in his sleep, then unable to jump in when he makes it clear he wants me like I do him. I’m a lunatic, clearly.

“I don’t know,” he says. “It’s just a thing. You bite your lip, and I want to take that lip into my mouth and suck on it like a popsicle. I want to lick your lips and bite them and kiss you until you’re fucking lost and gasping and puddled on the floor.”

Well…shit. I want that.

Nerves? Gone.

I feel my heart doing this weird thing, swelling, hammering, stuttering, aching, and I know I’ve decided.

I bite my lip, and it’s over.

“Fuck. You’re crazy, baby.” His voice is a feral snarl, spoken through clenched teeth.

I don’t even see him move. One second he’s over there, the next he’s slamming into me, lips crushing mine, and true to his word, he takes my lower lip into his mouth and sucks on it, tongues it. I’m jarred and shocked by the sudden violence of his kiss, and then I melt as he sucks on my lip. And then I’m pure liquid beneath him, because he’s abruptly gentle, taking my face in his hands, gazing at me with our lips barely touching, and then he kisses me slowly and so thoroughly, so deeply, I’m just…lost. His mouth moves on mine, claims me, steals my heart with his lips, takes my body with his mouth.

We’d kissed before, and it was—every time—the best kiss I’d ever had. My heart clenches when I realize this includes, by a landslide, every kiss Kyle ever gave me. There’s just no comparison. That hurts, that does. It hurts so sweet, so deep, so strange, I just don’t know what to do with it.

This kiss…I’m gone. Gone. I know, in that moment, that I belong to him. It’s what he said: I’m his. How it happened, I don’t know. I really wish I did.

“Last chance, Nelly-baby.” His voice is in my ear, not even a whisper, just breathed subvocalization that I feel on my ear. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

I push him up and I see the hurt in his eyes before I can correct him. He starts to get off, but I catch his bicep and still him in place. I curl my fingers under the hem of my shirt and peel it off. Colton’s eyes go wide and he licks his lips.

“I want this.” I say it as loud as I can, which is a breathless gasp, at most. “I need this.”

His eyes change, then. They go feral.

Oh boy, here we go.

“Take off your thong and spread your legs.”

“Say please.” I find strength in the game. My terror, my vulnerability abates, and I’m thankful.

He just stares at me. I don’t move to comply. He shakes his head and half-blinks in disbelief. And then he tugs on my thong and it comes apart. He didn’t jerk it, he didn’t expend any effort. He just put two fingers around the string at my hip, two fingers of the other hand inside the triangle over my core, and tugged. Rip. Gone. I’m naked. That easy.

“I liked that thong,” I protested.

“Should’ve listened then.” He slides his fingers down my belly, which clenches, and across my pudendum and down my tight-clamped thighs. “Now, spread your legs and feel free to scream. No one can hear.”