Lift You Up (Rivers Brothers 1)

I had never been accused of being aggressive.

Certainly not in past relationships.

I was never the instigator, the impulsive one, the type to act on their first impulses.

But something deep within, something long-buried, something that had never surfaced, rose, overtook me entirely before I could even realize what was going on.

Before I was cognizant of my brain telling my body to do so, I was curling around toward him, one hand pressing into his shoulder to steady myself as my knee pressed into the cushions, the other moving over his waist to settle on the other side.

My gaze held his, finding surprise mixed with anticipation, heat as I straddled him, my other hand settling on his other shoulder.

My fingers slid inward, feeling the strong line of muscles beneath his shirt, then gliding up the back of his neck, planting there, thumbs framing each side of his face as my body curled, as my head lowered, hesitating only for the shortest of seconds before pressing my lips to his.

They were pliant for a second before taking it deeper, demanding more. His hands curled around the middle of my back, folding, tightening enough that breathing became more of an idea than an actuality.

Not that I cared.

Or noticed.

All there was in the world was him. The scent of him all around, the feel of his hard lines to my softer ones, the pressure of his lips, the scrape of his scruff.

My body heated from my lips down. Desire was something fluid and burning somehow at the same time, liquid fire that swirled my chest, coursed through my belly, culminated at the juncture of my thighs.

Kingston's teeth nipped my lower lip, drawing a throaty whimper out of me, my lips parted just enough for his tongue to move inside, claim mine.

A spark of need burst through my core, pure, primal desire making my hips drop down fully onto his lap.

Another moan moved through my chest, lower, rougher, at feeling his hardness press against my need.

His arms uncrossed, sliding down my back, sinking into my ass, using it to guide me over him again, his cock grinding against my sex.

My lips ripped from his on a moan, my heavy-lidded eyes finding his equally heated with desire as his fingers made me slide over him yet again.

My head moved forward, hiding my face in his neck as the confession bubbled up and tripped out. "My imagination could never be this good," I told him, squeezing my eyes shut, my lips pressing into the side of his neck just below his ear.

"Can't tell you how many times I imagined getting my hands on you," he told me, trading one confession for another, making my belly flutter. "Last Christmas, I imagined sliding that dress up, getting to feel your skin." His fingers left my ass, moving up, slipping under the hem of my loose t-shirt, teasing over my skin that goose-bumped at the touch. "Never could have known how soft your skin would be, though," he told me, making a shiver course through me as his hands shifted to the sides, gliding up over my ribs, fingertips teasing at the very edges of my breasts, making my nipples harden, made my chest feel weighted.

I didn't need his hands to coax me. My hips shifted on their own, grinding down against him, feeling the ache of need overtake me until all I could think about was getting my clothes off, getting his off as well, feeling his skin pressed to mine, feeling his hands roving over me, fingers sinking into flesh, cock slipping inside me like I had imagined far too many times before.

If kissing him was infinitely better than I could dream of, I could only imagine what having sex with him might be like.

His fingers snagged my shirt, gently moving it across my skin. My head went back, arms going up, allowing him to free me of it. Not putting on a bra after my shower, I was naked from the waist up, my damp hair teasing over my exposed flesh, making my nipples tweak harder, a shudder moving through me, something that made an unexpected, delicious growling noise reverberate through Kingston's chest. Which sent off a shiver for an entirely different reason, one I felt down to my bones.

Air expanded Kingston's chest, catching there for a long moment before slowly moving out, his hands settling at the skin just above my hips, thumbs teasing over my ribs.

It was my turn for a steadying breath, trying to convince my system to be patient, enjoy every last second of this, knowing the first would be the time always remembered most vividly, wanting it to be the kind of memory to savor, to cling to no matter what may happen in the future.

His hands finally moved, inching up my sides before sliding inward, the giant palms closing over my maybe not too impressive breasts, enveloping them completely. The rough skin was an intimate, erotic scrape over my sensitive nipples, a sensation that made me arch backward slightly, pressing my chest even more fully into his hands.