Mouth to Mouth (Beach Kingdom 1)

Trying to think clearly with a new, unfamiliar motor running deep within her body was a challenge, but Olive sensed she had to lure Rory closer. He was still managing to hold himself away from her and she wanted to snap that willpower in half. With a swallow, she settled the palms of her hands against Rory’s hard stomach and slid them over the muscular curve of his pectorals. “Thank you for saving me.”

His eyelids drooped, his rough exhale sending the shower steam into a swirl. “Don’t thank me. Just stop almost dying.” He appeared transfixed by her fingers as they splayed over his muscles. “Please?”

“I’ll think about it…” Slowly, she went up on her tiptoes and locked her wrists behind his neck. “If you kiss me.”

He advanced on her fast, ripping a gasp from her throat when he sandwiched her between his unyielding body and the tile wall. Oh my God. Every inch of him was created to correspond with every inch of her. Was that possible? “You think I’m the kind of man you play games with?” His hot puffs of breath fanned her mouth. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Tell me. After you kiss me.”

His laughter was harsh and lacking all humor. “You don’t want me to take what you’re offering, Olive. I’ll want more. I won’t be able to stay away from you.” Out of necessity, Olive pushed up and slid their lips together, making his body surge tighter against hers. “This new life of yours is only beginning, and mine…it never got started, all right? Don’t torture me,” he grated directly against her mouth.

“You’re torturing me,” she said breathily, beginning to grow frustrated with the lack of satisfaction. She needed it so badly without even knowing fully what it entailed. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Stop.” He kissed her. Hard. “Stop.”

What had been the purpose of Olive’s mouth until this moment? As soon as her lips met Rory’s, they were given a new reason for existing. Despite his harsh command, there was no stopping once the kiss started. Olive was flattened against the wall, Rory’s fingers diving into her hair, weaving the wet strands between them. Olive’s arms went limp, dropping from his hair and remaining kind of suspended in a mid-air surrender as Rory’s mouth moved over hers, mastering it, ruining her for any other kiss in this lifetime. And then she could only use her hands to pull him close. Closer. Closer.

Oh God, she couldn’t get him to press her into the wall tightly enough. Her body was crying out for something she didn’t know how to ask for. Couldn’t ask for. Not with his tongue taking blatant, sexual ownership of her mouth. He found her tongue and wound it with his own, the bristle of his beard scraping her chin. Water trickled down between them, making the kiss wetter than it already was.

Olive curled her fingers into the waistband of his red shorts, arching her lower body and pulling Rory closer at the same time. Give me what I need. What do I need? At the same time she felt his erection, long and thick against her belly, his mouth let hers go on a guttural groan.

“Tell me what you want.” He teased her upper lip with his tongue. “You can’t have it unless you say it by name.”

“I-I…don’t know. I just want to stop aching.”

They fell headlong into a moaning kiss. “I want that, too, sunbeam.” His right hand left her hair, his palm curving to the side of her neck, traveling lower. Lower. “Can I touch you?”

Their eyes locked and she couldn’t look away from his combination of hunger and vulnerability. As if she might say no. Or not trust him. “Yes,” she whispered. “Anywhere.”

Heat flared in Rory’s face, but he hesitated, shaking his head. “God help us both,” he muttered, his hands finding her breasts and palming them. Tightly. Like they belonged to him. A line of electricity started at her nipples and rippled to her sex, making Olive’s thighs smack together with a loud sound. “There it is,” Rory said, cursing. “Been dreaming about those legs snapping together around my hips. Just like that.”

Later she might worry about coming across desperate, but in that moment, she could only care about making Rory’s words a reality. God. Oh God, she needed pressure against that suffering part of her anatomy. Now. She gripped his shoulders and tried to climb his hard wall of muscle, but he peeled her off with a denial, using his left hand to trap her wrists above her head. A willing prisoner.

“Uh-uh. No,” he gritted, pressing their foreheads together. “Not unless you want to fuck, Olive. If you sit that ripe, little body on my cock, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.”

The walls of her femininity clenched. Clenched at being spoken to—about—in such a way. To be desired this way…to have the proof of her own appeal prodding her in the stomach was a powerful thing. Especially because his appeal was equally vast. The feel of his skin, the intensity of his eyes, the smell of sunscreen and mint and male. A streak of recklessness she’d never encountered spoke on her behalf. “That’s what I want. The ache…”