“I think so, yeah.” I continue to run a soothing hand slowly up and down her spine.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Nothing to be sorry about.” I press a kiss to the top of her head. “There’s no place I’d rather be.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” She struggles against me and reluctantly I let go, not wanting her to think that she’s trapped against me.
She doesn’t go far, choosing instead to stay on my lap, her legs straddling my hips as we stare into each other’s eyes in the early morning gray. And there isn’t any order I can give at this point, any soccer statistics I can relay in my head, that will keep my dick from reacting to the warmth and closeness of her sex.
I’m about to apologize, about to lift her off me and spring into some kind of damage control action. But then she moves, tilting her hips forward with a gasp and a little moan.
Her sex brushes against my aching dick and just that easily, I’m drowning in her and the feelings she brings to life inside of me.
“Kian, I want t—”
I cut her off with a kiss. Our faces are already so close that our breaths mingle with each inhalation and it seems like the most natural thing in the world—despite everything—to lean forward and take her lips with mine.
She stops talking mid-word, takes in a strange, squeaky little breath. And then her hands are sliding from my face to my back, her arms wrapping around my neck as she kisses me.
It’s not our first kiss and I’m suddenly determined that it won’t be our last, either. But it is the first one we’ve had with all of our cards on the table, with all of the secrets of the past laid bare between us. Because of that it somehow feels more real than any of the others…and more important.
I bring my hands to her face, cup her cheeks, tilt her head this way and that as I seek to go deeper. As I try to delve all the way inside to the beautiful heart of her.
It’s only been an hour or so since we fell asleep, so she still tastes like coffee and sugar and sweet, spicy cinnamon. But underneath that there’s more, there’s strawberries and cream and warm, willing woman.
I can’t get enough of it. Can’t get enough of her. I pull Savvy even closer, pressing her breasts to my chest as I wrap myself around her and lick my way slowly, slowly, slowly into her mouth.
She gasps at the invasion, but doesn’t protest. Instead, she tilts her head, opens her mouth. Lets me in.
I’ve never been more grateful for—or more excited about—a woman’s acquiescence in my life. With that knowledge front and center in my mind, I slide inside her mouth, gently stroke my tongue against her own, then lick my way across the top of her mouth and down her cheek. She tastes so damn good, feels so damn good, that I can barely think, barely breathe as she licks her way inside my own mouth.
There’s a voice in the back of my head warning me that this is a bad idea, that the past is still looming between us—big, painful, unavoidable. That no matter what happens here, no matter how I feel about her or she feels about me, Garrett will always be between us.
But anyone who knows me will say I’ve never been very good at listening to that warning voice, and right here, right now—when I have a warm, willing Savvy on my lap—is no exception. Instead of hesitating, I barrel forward, determined to give her whatever she asks of me. Whatever she wants.
The thought has heat slamming through me like a rocket, and I bury one hand in the silky fall of her hair while sliding the other one to her lusciously curved hip.
Savvy moans a little at the feel of me tugging at her hair, then arches her back in an unspoken plea for more. I give it to her, tugging harder, more sharply, taking care to make it sting a little but not hurt. The last thing I want is to cause Savvy any more pain. If our talk last night taught me anything, it’s that she’s had enough pain to go around—and a lot of it was caused by my brother.
But thinking about Garrett right now is a mood killer, so I banish him from my brain. I focus instead on the way Savvy’s breathing has increased in tempo, the way her skin feels hot and her body feels pliant against mine. So far she’s with me every step of the way, and I couldn’t ask for more.
She moans again, deep in her throat, as her fingers claw their way under my shirt and up my back. It’s my turn to groan and she takes instant advantage, sliding her tongue against mine. She laughs a little then, a husky sound that dances across my skin and sets my nerve endings on fire even as she strokes her tongue between my teeth and my upper lip.
“Fuck, Savvy, you feel so good,” I murmur without ever lifting my mouth from hers.
“So do you,” she answers softly, one of her hands tangling in my hair, her fingers scratching gently against my scalp.
I want to take it deeper, want to roll her over onto the couch and thrust against her.
Want to slide my hand down the front of her jeans and feel her wet heat.
Want to hear her breath hitch and see her eyes go blurry as I make her come and come and come.
But we’re in her living room, in front of a large window that may or may not have one of my detail stationed outside of it at this very moment. I’m sure they’re in the car as opposed to watching our every move, but still…I won’t do that to her, not when we’ve finally started to talk to each other, to try to understand each other. Savvy deserves so much better than that.
Fuck, who am I kidding? She deserves better than me, certainly deserves better than His Royal Hotness. If I were a decent guy, I’d get up now and walk away before this gets any deeper, any messier. Before she has to deal once again with the mess that is being involved with a member of the Wildemar royal family.
But I’m not a decent guy and I’ve never claimed to be. I’m the spare who has spent the last decade fucking around with any and every woman who caught my attention, taking what they had to offer without a backward glance. And now that I found someone I like, someone I might actually be able to care about and who my past might actually affect, it all seems so…gross.