Up in Smoke (Crossing the Line, #2)(18)

“Put down the suitcase.”

Erin spun around with a gasp to find Connor standing two feet away. “Jesus H. Christ. Warn a sister.”

His gaze was concentrated on her hand. “Why haven’t you put down the suitcase?”

“Do you suffer from short-term memory loss? I’m out, baby. Hitting the bricks.”

Slowly, his hands came up, palms out. Surrender. He closed the distance between them. One step, two. What the hell was he doing? The concentration etched into his handsome face started a hot burn deep in the pit of her stomach.

She wanted to run.

She couldn’t move.

“We kissed last night.” His attention focused in on her mouth. “Can we do it again now?”

“I don’t know.” Her lips burned at the thought of it. Last night, she’d been in the moment, so consumed by her climax, she couldn’t remember if it had hurt. She wanted desperately to find out. If for no other reason than to give him something that he wanted. “Y-yes.”

Connor’s gaze went smoky as he leaned in and kissed her. There was an initial smarting of her lips, the way skin feels after a slap, but it blurred and dimmed. He started out simply trading breath with her. Or maybe he just wanted to make sure she wouldn’t run Flintstones-style out the door. Only their lips were touching, eyes open to take each other’s measure.

He sipped at her bottom lip, then the top. His eyelids drooped, then concealed his darkened green eyes completely. Something inside her twisted up tight, holding her off the ground so high she felt weightless. They had kissed last night, but it hadn’t felt like this. She’d been out of her head with pleasure. Right now, she was present. Too present.

Connor’s breath went shallow along with hers, but his hands remained in the air where she could see them if she needed to. His taste proved too appetizing, the scrape of his beard too delicious. Erin opened her mouth to the kiss, knowing through some divine intuition that he would anticipate it, which he did, masterfully. He slanted his lips over hers, drawing on them with an anguished groan. When their tongues brushed together, she sensed his hands turning to fists but couldn’t open her eyes to confirm. His mouth demanded every ounce of her attention, its needing of hers, its perfect shape and texture. The rich scent of pine and shaved wood curled around her, drugging her, finishing off what his mouth started.

With only their mouths touching, she shouldn’t have gotten so aroused. Liquid lightning flashed inside her, leaving smoke in its path. A squeeze between her legs released a shaky whimper. She knew she could ask him for anything in that moment and he’d give it to her. He’d let her work out her need on top of him, riding his length as she’d done last night. He’d leash his nature and let her be broken, let her take from him.

Which was precisely why she didn’t ask.

Connor broke away, allowing them both to suck in oxygen. “Stay. I’m sorry. Stay.” He bent his knees to bring them eye to eye. His spoke of torture, but he was trying to hide it. “Look at me. I can handle this. I want you here. Don’t leave.”

“I don’t know if I can handle it,” she whispered.

His heavy breaths ceased. “What do you mean?”

She drew out a lighter from her back pocket and ignited the flame. It cleared her head a little, allowing her to search for the right words. Words that wouldn’t sound crazy. “I like touching you. It makes me feel really…good. And there isn’t a whole lot that makes me feel good, you know?” Her throat closed up. “I wish you could touch me, too. I don’t think I can stay here knowing I’m hurting you by making myself feel good…and I don’t think I can stop touching you. It feels like a must.”

A flare of panic flashed across his face. “I shouldn’t have said what I did earlier. You just caught me off guard.” He massaged his forehead with four fingers. “Did I scare you? Is that why you’re really leaving?”

“No.” She shook her head. “No.”

“Okay. Jesus. Okay.” He was silent a moment, but gears were turning behind his eyes. “You need to touch me and I need you to stay. Let’s give each other what we need. All right?”

Why was this so damn confusing? She’d only met this man yesterday and they were already tangled up in her web of f*cked-up issues. He should want to be clear of her, shouldn’t he? No one else had ever bothered with her this long before. “Why? Why do you need me to stay? I—”

“I won’t rest,” he growled. “I’ll think about you somewhere, scared like you were last night, and I’ll go f*cking crazy.”

Her heart lurched, dislodging her pride. “I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. If the only reason you want me here is to play nursemaid to the crazy girl, that’s not going to work for me.”

“You know there’s more to it. You know.” He visibly centered himself with a deep breath, appearing to debate with himself. “I’ve got my own skeletons, Erin. They don’t rattle so much when you’re around. Your touching me…it makes me hot. But it soothes elsewhere.”

She knew her expression was pathetically hopeful, but couldn’t find a single shit to give. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he repeated. “I’m not going to lie, Erin. Yes, I want to sleep with you like hell. But only if it’s healthy. Would you trust me enough to go slow? A little at a time?”