Wild Like Us (Like Us 8)

Banks is kissing me. He’s making out with me. And his body is so close. So fucking close. I’m so tempted to just shift the towel so I can feel his skin against my skin. But I drown into the moment—of how strong he cups my face. How rough he kisses me. I watch him and feel his hunger for me as he pushes forward. An involuntary noise suddenly flies from my lips.

Oh my fucking God.

I almost whimper.

I’ve never been this aroused.

Never.

Not even touching myself. I’m soaked, and everything about this moment is inducing a mind-rush of endorphins. His kisses are unlike any I’ve ever had. Though, I guess I haven’t had a fucking ton to compare it to—but it’s so much…more.

More dizzying.

More heart-racing.

I’m overcome with each passing second his lips touch mine. My hands crave to touch Banks everywhere. To go on a great voyage across his sculpted body, and they feverishly roam, almost too fast, too excitedly.

I want to savor every bit, but I’m scared this is all I’ll ever get.

His large hand is on my ass beneath the towel, clasping my bare flesh, but his fingers have curled closer and closer to my pussy. I wonder if he can feel how wet I am and the warmth I expel.

Above all, I never want to leave his eyes. The way Banks is looking at me—like I’m the only thing that’s causing him to lose control—is so intoxicating. It’s power I didn’t think I possessed. I want him to ravage me. To tear off my towel. To sink his teeth into my skin.

Banks sucks on the nape of my neck. Still pinning me, my breath is lost in each dizzying second.

Keeping going.

Don’t stop.

I’m in a dream.

No I’m not. My eyes are still on Banks, and I hate that I’m disbelieving of my reality because all I want is to take fucking hold and never let go.

As his lips draw back up to mine, he stops. He goes really still. Only his chest moves with his breath. And he whispers against my mouth, “Not here.”

“What?” I pant.

His hand—his hand carefully, slowly falls off my ass. Even at six feet, I have to look up to meet his eyes. Such a weird thing that I rarely need to do. And I might be more upset by Banks slamming on the brakes if it weren’t for his expression.

He looks pent-up and torn-up. Like ending it here is the right thing, but not necessarily what his body wants. Still holding his boxer-briefs against his package, he explains, “I’m not taking your virginity in a motel bathroom. From someone who lost his in one, let’s just say it’s not worthy of praise.”

I get stuck on the two new facts.

Banks lost his virginity in a motel.

It sucked, apparently.

“Your first time wasn’t that good?” I ask outright, retightening the towel around my chest.

“None of my firsts were. Crossed off a lot of boxes too early, and lookin’ back, I wish I would’ve waited for the person who made me feel…” He lifts a shoulder. “More.” He slowly tucks my hair behind each ear. The right. Then the left. Like I’ve seen him do to himself all the time. “You have a lot of grit, Sullivan Minnie Meadows, to wait until you know you’re ready. And I like you a hell of a lot. You don’t have to wait for me if you don’t want to, but I’m hoping you can.”

To wait for a better moment?

A more romantic place?

For him?

He likes me a hell of a lot.

“I can,” I nod repeatedly, my lungs inflating with more emotion than I can add up. “I definitely can.” I glance down at his sculpted, naked frame. Wow…he’s still hard. “Uh, so do you need to come still? You can use my towel if you don’t want the fucking mess.” I’m about to offer the towel on my body, but he touches my hand to stop me.

His lip draws in those almost-smiles as he sweeps my frame head-to-toe. His gaze is fingertips running down my bare flesh. My lips part, a shiver slipping through me. Tingling me.

Fuck, I still need to come. My body is begging for relief that I’ve given to myself plenty before.

He must register the want in my eyes. “Take the shower, mermaid. I’ll be out here on land.” He already grabs the broken rod and fallen shower curtain.

“The water is super hot,” I tell him. “I couldn’t adjust it.”

Banks easily fixes the shower rod, then skims his fingers through the water. “It’s colder now. Been on for a while.”

I’m unable to suppress a rising smile. Remembering the last few minutes where we let the hot water run cold. He pinned me to the wall. He cupped my bare ass. He kissed me. I can still feel his strong, affectionate hands and lips on me. I’m filing it all in under: Pump My Fist in the Air, a Sullivan Victory. “You take the cold shower,” I tell him. “I’ll be out here.”