Beautiful Distraction(42)

The world around us seems to stand still while my head becomes a big void of nothingness, my senses straining to tune into him. He’s so close. I can smell him. I can see the way the light reflects in his irises, splitting it into different shades of green—all beautiful, all breathtaking.

“You’re different,” he whispers.

“How so?”

“I don’t know. Just different.”

“Is that a good or a bad thing?”

“I don’t know, either. Is not wanting me a bad thing?”

“You tell me.” I cock my head, a smile tugging at my lips. “After all, you’re the one with the long list of conquests.”

“None of them matter,” Kellan says. “None of them get my attention like you do.” He glances at me. “There’s something about you that drives me crazy.”

“I believe it’s called rejection.” His eyebrows rise, so I feel the need to clarify. “I rejected you, and now you think you have to conquer me.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s more than that. I want you. I want you like I’ve never wanted anyone before. I just can’t explain it…I can’t explain you.”

My breath hitches, stolen by his words. When did things take this turn? One moment he’s flirting with me, the next he’s saying something like this. I’m not sure that I like the change.

“What are you saying?” I whisper, my voice shaking.

“I’m saying…” He hesitates. “I want to know more about you. I want to know what makes you tick. And—” he pauses again, his eyes glued to my lips “—I want to kiss you. To know if your lips are as soft as they seem.”

All air swishes out of my lungs, as though it’s just been knocked out of me. He’s waiting for my permission, I realize. “Is that a good idea?”

“Only one way to find out.”

His hand moves to the back of my nape, pulling me softly to him, and then his mouth meets mine in a slow, delicious kiss. Even though his lips barely brush mine, the electric jolt running through me is all-consuming. My nerve endings are on fire. My whole body is.

He holds me like no other. His kiss is balm for my soul.

The tip of his tongue slips between my lips, and I moan against his mouth, the sound lost between us. He tastes manly and minty, his hot breath burning me from the inside. The picture of those lips on my nipples appears before my eyes—those lips traveling down my abdomen, kissing me. My fingers are trembling as they brush the front of his shirt, the open palm of my hand settling on his lower ribcage. His warmth is seeping through the thin material, searing me.

I want to push my hand underneath his clothes to feel skin against skin. To taste him the way I want him to taste me. But I don’t do any of those things.

Because this one kiss is already my undoing.

His lips are doing unthinkable things to me, creating feelings I have never had before. They remind me of a summer breeze, soft and warm; of a winter tale that mesmerizes and entrances; of the wings of a thousand butterflies, light and soundless, as they flutter around.

I wish I could stop this one moment, capture it, because I know it won’t last.

Because a guy like him doesn’t stay in a woman’s life. He breezes through and leaves only havoc behind.

I press my lips against him, over and over again, letting his tongue meet mine in a slow dance. And then I can feel his hand traveling up my inner thigh.

A delicious jolt travels through my clitoris and moisture pools between my legs, readying me for what he has to offer. Only, I’m not sure if I’m ready.

I squeeze my legs shut, but the friction only manages to intensify the want inside me.

Too soon, Kellan pries his lips away from mine, his hand withdrawing from my body.

I open my eyes and find him staring at me. He’s just as breathless as I am. His eyes are dark, full of desire. His gaze is penetrating every layer of me, reaching my core. “I’m not a patient man, Ava. But I can wait if something’s worth waiting for.”

“Don’t do this.” My voice is shaking as I push him away and stand, disgusted at just how desperate this man makes me. I have to get away, but where could I possibly head without appearing like I’m running from him?

His fingers brush the back of my arm, and my breath catches in my throat.

“You sound upset. I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

Coming from someone like him, his apology takes me by surprise. I want to tell him that there’s no need to apologize. That I enjoyed kissing him. But I can’t. I’ve been hurt so often that opening up is not an option. I brush my fingertips over my lips. They’re still tingling, reminding me of how good it felt to have his mouth against mine. They remind me that his presence does something to me. My resolve is crumbling. I fear he’ll pull me to him and I’ll give in, just because I miss the intimacy of having another body against mine, inside me.