“I would have appreciated it,” he said softly, “if you had.”
My brain threatened to disconnect. It was such an adult thing to say, and he’d delivered it straightforward. I wasn’t used to actually talking about stuff with guys, and it was yet another thing to make me feel inexperienced around him. Communication was foreign.
But if he wanted to be honest, I was willing to try the same. “I didn’t wake you up because I was scared,” I announced. “I didn’t know how to say goodbye to you after we . . . and I didn’t want to.”
His posture straightened, and finally an emotion I could read splashed on his expression. Surprise.
“I’m sorry,” I said again.
“When I woke up and you were gone, I didn’t know what to think. I worried maybe you were freaking out.”
Guilt coasted through me. I hadn’t meant to hurt him. “No.” I took a step closer, wanting him near. “That came later.” I rounded the island, so it was no longer between us, and stared up at him. “I don’t regret what happened. I mean, I know I should, but I just don’t.” I pressed my lips together and drew in a breath through my nose, struggling to find the courage to ask. “Do you?”
A crease developed on his forehead. He looked conflicted, and my heart sank to my toes. His hesitation was torture.
“No, I don’t regret it,” he said finally, “but that makes me the worst father in the world, right? A terrible person, at least.”
“No—”
“Yes, it does. Especially when I want to do it again.”
Anxiety released its hold on my shoulders, and I sagged against the counter. His eyes heated. The air between us shifted and stretched, growing from tension into something else, which tasted a lot like anticipation. I’d never been more aware of him, or the idea that we were alone in his house.
“But we can’t do it again,” I said, my words tight and unsteady.
Jesus, I couldn’t believe I’d just said it. I hadn’t meant it one bit—I’d issued this as a challenge. Would he pick up my wistful tone? Did he get what I was doing?
“No,” he said, shifting on his feet so he was facing me. “Absolutely not.” The corner of his sexy mouth curled up into a hint of a smile. “Hey, before I forget. As long as you’re here, maybe we should go to my room and get you naked.”
My mouth dropped open, and before I could say a word, his hands wrapped around my waist and hauled me against his chest. His mouth lowered to mine, and when our lips connected, I arched up into his kiss.
We moved together without breaking the contact, turning and stumbling into the side of the cabinets on our hurried quest toward his room, only stopping to chuckle at our clumsiness. His hands slid beneath the hem of my t-shirt and were warm on my back. The feel of his fingertips skimming up my bare skin was like nothing else. It sent hot shivers down my backbone.
“I thought I might not see you again,” he mumbled against the side of my mouth.
“I’m sure we’d run into each other somewhere.”
He stopped moving and locked his arms, caging me inside. “I meant like this. And I didn’t like that idea. Actually, I fucking hated it.”
Butterflies fluttered in my belly. “Really?” I whispered.
He was so sure, so confident. “I’m tired of telling myself I don’t want this. Yeah, you’re supposed to be off-limits, but that doesn’t stop me from thinking about you all the damn time.” His eyes sharpened, making it impossible to look away. “I can’t stop thinking about the things I’d like to do to you, or things you’d do to me, or the way we looked together in my mirror.”
“Oh,” I sighed, and my eyes lidded with desire.
He dipped his head and traced a line up the curve of my neck with the tip of his tongue. Shit, I was going to burst into flames. I was drunk off him in seconds.
“Tell me,” I asked eagerly, as he sucked on a sensitive spot below my ear, “what you want to do to me.”
“You want to hear about my fantasies, Cassidy? Because there are a lot, and they are very, very bad.”
Just like me.
I nearly said it out loud, but I’d turned to liquid under his mouth. I couldn’t catch my breath as I swallowed a gulp, so I nodded enthusiastically. “Tell me. I bet I want to do them all.”
He made a sound like I’d stroked a hand over his erection, even though I hadn’t yet, and his face took a dark, sexual cast. It was primal and gorgeous.
Greg’s mouth slammed into mine, his tongue pushing past my lips and invading. This kiss wasn’t like the others. It was blistering, and punishing, and rewarding. He shoved a hand up my shirt and gripped my bra-covered breast, all while his mouth fucked mine.