“You know me well,” he says, his voice pulling me nearer. Or maybe it’s him. His hand slips around my shoulders and he brings me into a side embrace. I laugh to myself because he’s not a touchy-feely person. He’s tough and unreadable at times, rarely showing an ounce of emotion that isn’t provocative or inciting. If a side hug is all he can offer me, I’ll take it.
We’re friends now, and that’s kind of important because I haven’t been allowed to have close friends for a long time—not since Claire Fahnlander almost outed us back in middle school.
I sit up and open my eyes, immediately losing them in his dark, brooding gaze. My desire to taste his lips and sense his touch never subsided despite my best efforts. His fingertips graze my arm, igniting a wave of impulsivity. My lips part, our faces only a dangerous few inches apart. My heart quickens, and I’m struggling to breathe. I could kiss him if I wanted to, but I won’t. I need his friendship, and I don’t want to make things complicated.
The moment passes and my reckless, wild notion goes right along with it. I’m sure it would’ve been amazing. I’m sure it would’ve set my world on fire. It probably would’ve felt all kinds of wrong and delicious, but now I’ll never know.
Jensen cups my cheek, his thumb pressing against my bottom lip, mocking the pressure of a soft kiss. I sigh. He could own me with one kiss, and I wouldn’t even fight it.
I need to rebel.
I need to feel.
I need to know that my life still belongs to me.
I close my eyes while I focus on the sensation of his thumb against my mouth until it disappears, fading away only to be replaced with the real thing.
Jensen Mackey is kissing me.
I’m not imagining it.
It’s not a fantasy or a late-night reverie.
His lips are warm and he grasps the back of my neck, digging his fingers into my flesh as he guides me closer to him. Our lips dance, soft and slow, until our tongues meet. Jensen’s tongue swirls around mine, all velvet and sin.
My body responds to his kiss with an intensity too overwhelming to ignore. I’m powerless in his presence, only it’s a powerlessness I fully embrace.
His kisses still my mind, willing my body to do all the work. My thoughts are at rest, and each passing second is an exhilarating trip into the unknown. I know where this is headed; my body tells me so.
Jensen pulls his lips from mine, we’re both breathless. My lips are swollen and heated. I want more. I crave more. Hard deep kisses that make me forget my name. One taste and I’m left with unsatisfied urges and petulant disappointment.
“Waverly.” He runs his fingers through his dark hair. “We shouldn’t do th—”
I silence his objection with a kiss of my own, one that says I’m perfectly okay with whatever it is we’re doing right now. He kisses me back, hungry and accepting, pulling me into his lap.
The rest of the family is downstairs with Bruce. I’ll take the odds and place my bet that they’ll leave me alone for the immediate future. Causing a scene in front of a church elder is the last thing they want to do.
I grip Jensen by the back of his head, my hips bucking and rolling over his like my body has known what to do all along. The ache between my thighs is raw and real, painful and pleading.
Jensen tugs at my sweater, pulling it up slowly like he’s giving me a chance to stop him, but I don’t. He lifts it over my head and returns below to work the button on my pants.
With each article of clothing I shed, my liberation comes to life, boiling to my surface at warp speed. I won’t be able to go back after this, but I’m not sure I want to.
His lips leave mine, a coolness overtaking them in his absence. He presses his mouth into the flesh of my neck, tasting, sucking, biting. Pain mixes with pleasure, swirling into liquefied desire.
All of this is physical. I’m not in love with my stepbrother. I don’t expect anything from him after this. It’s just something I need to do for myself.
I’m giving my body to Jensen, but the pleasure is all mine. I own my body, not him, or my father, or anyone else. I own this moment. Me.
I am in control.
Tonight, an angel fell from heaven, but maybe she never belonged there in the first place.
CHAPTER 21
She tastes of innocence and indecency, a sweet poison, and I’m devouring every square inch of her. What began with a kiss on the floor of my room turned into an unstoppable make out session, and now we’re lying naked on my bed.
There’s no lock on my door. Anyone could bust through at any second, but we’re not thinking clearly.
Obviously.
We have no business doing this. We shouldn’t be together. This isn’t a good idea by any stretch of the imagination. This has the potential to get all kinds of complicated, but for now? I’m not sure our bodies would allow us to stop if we wanted to.