Sterling’s eyes were sincere as they met mine. “You know we can leave whenever you need to,” he said, and I nodded.
I did know that.
Somehow, I knew Sterling would never push me like my ex did.
“You seem to be doing pretty well already,” he added, that smirk shaping his lips. “The previews are over, and you look downright calm.”
I huffed a laugh, forcing my hands to the armrests instead of wringing them out again. I wasn’t close to calm, but I wasn’t barreling down the freeway to an attack either.
Baby steps.
And with Jansen at my side? It didn’t seem such a lonely, dark place to be.
Thirty minutes into the movie, I couldn’t concentrate. My knee bounced lightly, and I shifted my position about a dozen times. It wasn’t that the movie was bad, in fact, it was super interesting with great acting and a tight plot. And it wasn’t exactly the dark walls bothering me either.
It was Jansen.
His laugh, the way his bicep brushed against my arm, or his thigh pressed lightly into mine. God, maybe I was back in high school, crushing on the hot jock who made me laugh. I might as well be with how my thoughts were racing. Flashing from the way the theater made me feel, and then how he made me feel. The two emotions clashing in a battle that threatened to make me scream.
The theater being empty helped a ton with me being able to control the dark thoughts that tried to squeeze their way into my mind. I felt that slightly trapped sensation, but I knew I could get out of this room because no one would be in my way when rushing for the door. That alone should have allowed me to relax enough to enjoy the movie, but every time Jansen moved or laughed or breathed I caught his scent, felt the electric crackles from his accidental touch, and basically did somersaults inside.
His kiss replayed over and over so much that I soon had no clue what was happening on the screen.
And I just…didn’t care.
I wanted.
Like, full-on, can’t breathe without touching him, wanted.
The sensation was so new and exhilarating I couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t remind myself of all the reasons why I shouldn’t, why we couldn’t…
“You okay, London?” Sterling whispered, his lips close to my ear. Warm chills burst along the skin of my neck.
I turned my head, my eyes locking with his. “I don’t know,” I admitted, my eyes flashing from his lips to his eyes and back again. God, I was practically writhing in my seat.
He shifted toward me, his focus fully on me now. “We can go,” he said. “You say the word.” He gently laid his strong, warm hands over my forearms, the gesture both comforting and igniting at the same damn time.
Just. Like. Him.
“London?” he asked, arching a brow when I hadn’t said anything. Something crackled behind his blue gaze, some awareness as he realized how close our faces were, how my body was turned toward his, how I hadn’t pulled away at his sudden nearness. “Tell me what you need,” he said, his voice taking on a gravely tone that did things to my body.
Yep.
I wanted more of that.
In a blink, I succumbed to the drumming, pounding, pulsing need in my body—ignoring the pleas of my rational mind and simply…being.
My hands flew to his neck, and I yanked his mouth to mine. He came willingly, a low growl rumbling in his chest from the contact. I fisted his shirt, holding him close while I crushed my lips against his, holding absolutely nothing back.
And when he jerked back the armrest between us? Snaking an arm around my waist to haul me to him?
I saw stars.
7
Sterling
Holy shit, London was kissing me. I shoved the armrest between our seats up, then gripped her hips and tugged, pulling her onto my lap so I could get closer.
There wasn’t a close enough when it came to this woman. I had the feeling that I could drive my tongue, my fingers, my cock deep inside her body and still wouldn’t be satisfied until I reached her soul.
She gasped as my tongue sank deep inside the sweet recess of her mouth, and she swung her knee over my thigh, straddling me.
Fuck yes. It had been a week since we’d been at the amusement park, and I’d been dreaming about this moment ever since. She wasn’t scared or in the throes of a panic attack. She wasn’t looking for a diversion or a distraction.
She’d kissed me because she’d wanted to, and if the way she settled in my lap and rocked her hips over mine was any indication—she was as into this as I was.
I speared my hands through the long, silken strands of her hair to cradle her head, then kissed her breathless, stroking my tongue against hers. She tasted just as sweet as I remembered, just as addictive, and I was hooked.