“I’m good, Hunter mou,” I say, getting a thrill out of calling him mine in Greek. “I really am. I just want to play. You’ll let me play, won’t you?” My hands go to his neck, the throbbing pulse, the corded muscles and tendons that signal him to be a man, to be made of strength. My panties are wet and I haven’t even kissed him yet.
I smile slowly, licking my mouth, imagining his tongue on my lips, in my mouth, rolling with mine.
“I don’t get it. Just kiss me. We don’t have to play games.”
My fingers tighten around his neck, those blue eyes feel like lasers as they dissect my features, what my face is trying to say without my mouth doing any of the talking. His teeth come out to tug at his bottom lip. My breath ratchets up a notch; I tighten inside, pulse with need. My skin’s on fire, and I tingle all over.
I plant my ass more firmly into his thighs, pull him closer to me, feeling his big, warm hands come to my hips, then span my waist, thumbs so so close to the undersides of my breasts – just resting at the upper span of my ribs, telling me that they’re there, ready for me to say yes.
“I’ve been told I’m a really bad kisser.” His eyebrows punch low on his face, and his chest lets out a rumbled sound of disbelief. I’m dizzy from his complete conviction that I’m anything but. Oh God, please don’t let me suck at this. Please, please, please. “And I want you to teach me how to be a good one.”
His fingers spasm around my waist, thumbs digging into the almost-undersides of my breasts. I didn’t know they would feel so heavy, that they would tingle, swell, even, like they’re begging for his attention. But this is what he does to me.
A growl rips from his throat, that primitive male coming out.
“Baby, good kissing is about wanting to kiss me.” I shiver on his lap, my heart stuttering, my breath coming in pants. I’m pulsing and throbbing, dampening my panties further and further. “Do you want me?”
“Yes,” I moan, tugging on his neck, trying to bring him closer to me. His face is dark and dangerous, the navy in his eyes an abyss of knowledge that I’m dying to learn, waiting to be taught. I shiver harder, eyes pinned to his mouth, watching him lick his lips. My hips buck on his lap, and I watch his nostrils flare, color staining his cheeks.
My forearms slide on his shoulders until my underarms are settled there, our foreheads touching as we share the same air. I take a part of him and he takes a part of me.
“Good, baby. Now come a little closer, fuck-” he groans as we touch in all the right places. Christ, I love you Corona! “And give me your mouth.”
Time is infinite – it stretches out; the future a glint on the horizon, the past a faded memory.
My head feels filled with cotton – no thoughts run through my brain. I’m not sure who does it first, who initiates the first luscious bit of contact, but it happens – the touch of our lips. Finally!
Our lips lightly touch at first, like we’re allowing ourselves just the barest taste of one another, too afraid to become addicted. Hunter is a drug I would ruin my life for. Even as the thought drifts through my mind, and the pang of fear that makes my heart trip over its beats, I tentatively move my mouth.
When Hunt pulls away, a crushing failure squeezes down on my chest and I can’t breathe. I suck at this. He’s going to tell me to get the hell off of him.
I can’t read what’s in his eyes, but the way they search my face, I find myself hoping he finds what he’s looking for.
“Do you want me?” he asks, voice deeper than I’ve ever heard it. I start to notice tiny things- the way his breathing has accelerated, the way his thighs shift underneath me with the tensing of his muscles, the way his chest pumps up and down with the more air he needs. And I’m sitting on top of him. And he’s not telling me I’m too heavy. Score!
I nod, frowning. I’ve already answered this question.
“Then show me. Kiss me like I’m the only one you’ll ever want.”
Fraking hell, he’s going to make me spontaneously combust. An inferno has built in my chest, blood pumping it out to toes and fingers and everywhere in between. My whole body jerks at his words.
I swallow, feel my belly twist with nerves. Hunt’s body keeps giving off heat like he’s a furnace, throwing my body temperature up higher and higher. My left hand is still touching the side of his neck, the accelerated pumping of his pulse underneath my palm. You can’t fake that kind of reaction, you just can’t.
“That’s all I have to do?” Everyone, and by everyone I mean Katie, tells me kissing’s instinctual – that I’ll just know what to do. Well, I don’t know anything. I don’t know how exactly to place my mouth on his, or what the fraking hell is going to happen when tongues get involved. My stomach jitters around, fine tremors dancing along my skin.