Dare You To (Pushing the Limits #2)(61)

Would a kiss bring Beth to life? Tonight she’s shown me brief flashes of the girl hidden behind the facade. Maybe I can draw her out more. Maybe if I kiss her…no, not kiss. I’m no prince and this isn’t a fairy tale.

Attempting to find sanity, I rub my head.

“You okay?” she asks.

“Yes.” No. The thoughts in my brain crest and dip like waves in the ocean. Each thought harder to hold on to than the one before.

“It’s all right.” Beth’s voice becomes smooth, as if she’s casting a spell. “You’re thinking too much. Just relax.”

“We should talk,” I say in a rush before the thought drifts away, but my hand draws another lazy circle on her stomach. Her muscles come alive under my touch, a shudder of pleasure, and I crave to please her.

“No, we shouldn’t,” she answers. “Talking is overrated.”

And I nod in agreement, but the thought floats back to the surface: we should talk. I’ve fought it all night; hell, I’ve fought it since I met her, but I like it when Beth talks because she becomes real—she becomes more. I like more. I like her.

What I really like is how her smooth skin glows in the lantern light, how soft it feels against my fingers. Beth licks her lips again and my head tilts in expectation. Her mouth glistens now and I memorize the perfect shape while imagining her lips brushing against mine.

The hay rustles beneath Beth as she lifts her head. My senses are flooded with the scent of roses.

“Kiss me,” she says.

Just one kiss and her black spell, the one that she’s woven, the one that’s constantly weighing her down, will be broken.

Beth

MY TANK RIDES UP further when Ryan strokes the bare flesh of my stomach. He angles closer to me and I’m immediately overwhelmed by the size of his body. My blood tingles with excitement. “You’re soft,” he whispers.

I knot my fingers in his hair, guiding his head to mine. “You talk too much.”

“I do,” he agrees and his lips finally meet mine.

It’s an innocent kiss at first. Soft lips meeting; a gentle pressure that creates a slow burn. The type of kiss you give to someone that means something. This isn’t the type of kiss to be wasted on me. But still, I prolong it by taking his lower lip into mine and I touch his smooth face.

For this one second, I’ll feel. I’ll let myself pretend that Ryan cares for me. That I’m the girl worthy of this type of kiss, and right as I sense the emotion becoming stronger, gaining traction, I break away.

Ryan swallows and stares down at me. I press my lips to his innocently one last time, then slide my tongue between his lips. Sparks sizzle in the air as we immediately part our mouths, hungry for more. It’s a lightning storm of fiery kisses and sounds of bliss. Each of us feeds off the other, only building a greater storm—a thunderhead on the verge of explosion.

My hands roam over his back, clawing for the hem of his shirt, eager to explore the glorious muscles underneath. Ryan follows my lead and picks up the pace. Cooler air pricks at my back as he sweeps an arm beneath me and pulls my tank over my head.

Ryan pauses for a second. His hesitant eyes meet mine and I quickly reclaim his lips. He responds, but barely. He’s thinking again and if he follows his thoughts, then I’ll lose my chance at higher.

I trail my hand down his spine—a light touch, a dance that crosses to the side of his waist, over his hip, and right as my fingers circle lower, Ryan moans and rejoins the game. My mouth slants up under his kiss.

I love the sound of his moan. I love how his hands memorize the small of my back and dare lower to my thighs. I love how we’ve both moved beyond coherent thought. I love floating.

We roll and I help Ryan lose his shirt. In seconds, our legs tangle. My hands curl into his muscles as Ryan generously trails hot kisses along the nape of my neck. He grows bold, inching my bra strap off my shoulder. I reward bold.

We lose control—quickly, so fast we’ve broken beyond floating to flying. I inhale and all I smell is Ryan: the sweet scent of summer rain. I’m so giddy I could almost laugh—I’m finally high. Higher than I’ve ever been without drugs, higher than I’ve ever been with another guy, higher than… Ryan’s hand slides to cradle my face, his warm palm touching my cheek. His head follows and we both gasp for air as he rests his forehead against mine. He’s pausing and I don’t like pausing. Pausing means thinking.

“You’re beautiful,” he says. His hands still explore; his lips still exert gentle pressure against my skin. Maybe he’s not pausing.

Maybe he’s…what? What is he doing? His body says one thing, but his mouth says another.

“No talking.” I don’t want talking. I want higher. I want further.

Ryan brushes the hair away from my face and my heart flutters. “I like you,” he says in my ear. “I like you, Beth.”

All movement stops as the corners of my lips tug up for a shy smile. He likes me. He likes me and I like him and…All the air rushes out of my body, leaving my lungs in a painful struggle for air. My fingers curl into fists and I push at Ryan’s chest. “Let me go.”

Instead his hold on me tightens. His eyes clear of their haze and dart over my face, searching for the problem. “What’s wrong?”

“Let me go!” I scream and he immediately releases me. On my hands and knees, I wrestle away from him…away from me…just away.