He searches my eyes. ‘Did I do something?’
‘No.’
‘What, then?’
He’s waiting for an explanation, and when he doesn’t get one, he steps closer. I’m barely breathing. My gaze falls to his lips, and I’m hot, and his scent is suffocating me. And then he whispers my name. Not Wilson—my name.
‘Annie.’
It’s the first time I’ve heard it from his lips, and it’s perfect and breathy.
‘Annie,’ he says again.
Then two of his fingers wrap two of mine.
It’s a loose grip, so easy for me to pull away—but I don’t. Instead, I close my eyes and thread all five of my fingers through all five of his. His tighten blissfully around mine.
So this is what holding hands feels like. It’s wrong because he’s worldly, wrong because we’re not courting, and wrong because there’s no mutual goal of marriage. We’re just two people with absolutely no plan at all. And now it feels like the only way to end this torturous moment is to complete it.
‘Do you want to kiss me?’ I ask.
His fingers slide between mine. ‘So you can hate me afterwards?’
I shake my head. ‘I could never hate you.’ I tip my face up, like they do in the movies. I’m fairly sure he can see my heart thudding in my chest through my jumper.
He dips his head, lips hovering a centimetre from mine. He’s so close I can smell the beer on his breath.
‘It’s okay,’ I whisper, sensing his hesitation.
The second his lips touch mine, the heat that’s been building inside me ignites into flames. My stomach clenches, and my knees soften. I’ve got no idea what I’m doing, but it doesn’t seem to matter. He knows. He knows exactly what he’s doing. I simply follow his lead.
He opens his mouth, tongue sweeping across mine. My breath catches. He breaks the kiss, dropping his forehead to mine. And that’s when I notice his change in breath also. That’s when I realise I’m not alone in these feelings. This heat, this desire—it’s shared.
‘Annie.’
My heels lift off the ground, lips finding his once more. I want as much of him as I can get before my mind clears and the guilt hits, before the shame drowns me where I stand.
His free hand goes into my hair as he deepens the kiss, and my palm lands on his chest. I’m ready to push him away. Any moment now, my good sense will surface, a line will be crossed, and I’ll know it’s time to stop.
Any moment now.
He draws me closer still. It’s like we’re siphoning oxygen from one another, and if we stop, we’ll die. It’s a push-and-pull of breath and heat. I slide my arms around his neck, extinguishing the safety barrier between us. When our bodies come together, desire and guilt war inside me.
Desire wins.
It’s Hunter who breaks the kiss. Apparently he’s the only one with enough self-control to do it.
‘Why are you stopping?’ I pant, frustrated by the interruption. I lean into him to retain what heat I can.
His hands are still on me, holding me in place. ‘You gotta tell me where the line is before this goes any further.’
I shake my head to clear it of the lust fogging my brain. ‘The line. Right.’ I wet my lips. ‘We can’t… I can’t have sex.’
He kisses my jaw and says, ‘There’s so much between here and there, Wilson.’
Of course there is, but I can barely think past my physical needs right now. ‘I’ll know when I get there.’
His mouth goes to my neck, and he runs his tongue down it. ‘You sure about that?’
My head falls back, welcoming the sensation. My legs are no longer of any use, and I start to sink to the ground. Hunter catches me, sits down, and drags me onto his lap. My knees land on either side of him as he pushes my hair back from my neck, his mouth returning to my scorched skin. I grab hold of his hair with both hands, eyes closing.
‘I trust you,’ I say.
He stops kissing me. ‘Don’t say that.’
I look him in the eye. ‘I trust you.’
His expression is tortured, his eyes heavy with desire. ‘Okay.’ He nods. ‘Okay.’