As she presses her body against mine, she wraps both arms around my waist and holds me so tight that it’s like she’s scared I’ll change my mind. Not happening.
I kiss her harder, bruising our lips with the need to be as close as I can. Texas opens up a little more, and I slide my tongue against hers.
Fuck.
Fuck!
Our hips meet as we mould closer, devouring each other. I never want this to end.
Moaning again, I begin to worry that this is turning into a porno, not that I’d mind. But Texas probably wouldn’t want this to go viral.
It takes every ounce of self-control for me to pull away from her. My body wants to kick my arse in protest. I’m painfully hard, and all I want to do is kiss her until we can’t breathe.
She opens her eyes and looks up at me. We’re still clinging to each other.
The lights on the tower have stopped, but she doesn’t seem bothered that she saw maybe only thirty seconds of the ten-minute show. Actually, it doesn’t look like she’s even noticed it’s over.
“That should’ve been our first kiss,” she whispers.
“I don’t know. I’m kind of fond of that first one.”
“Yeah? You’ve never mentioned it before.”
“I couldn’t. It’s not something I regret, but it wasn’t my best move.”
This is.
She bites her lip. “Because it was at my dad’s house?”
“That, and we were both drunk.”
“It was a Christmas party. Of course we were drunk.”
I laugh at her explanation and because I’m so fucking happy right now. “I should get you back to the hotel.”
“You should.”
She gives me a knowing smile, and I kiss her again.
It’s every bit as passionate during the second pretty much sober time around. I run my hands up her arms and over her shoulders, and then I cup her face. She responds by moaning, and the sound vibrates right down to my dick.
“Yeah, we should go,” I say, grinning wider than the way I did after the first time I’d touched a boob under the bra. This is one of those life-changing moments that everyone goes through. And it’s happening way ahead of time and with the worst person.
And I can’t bring myself to care.
“Okay.”
She snuggles into my side as we turn around and head back to the car. I hold her the entire way. This is how we should’ve been since Christmas.
TEXAS
SUNDAY, MAY 10
PARIS, FRANCE
Two things.
One, tonight has been the best night of my life.
Two, I think Kitt is bipolar.
I’m not trying to be a bitch here, but his behaviour swings from one extreme to the next with absolutely no notice and seemingly no reason. I think we’re good and maybe getting somewhere, and then the barriers go up, and he acts like I’m an annoying little sister.
It’s giving me a headache.
But the way he kissed me tonight, right in front of one of the most romantic places on earth, has given me hope. We can’t go back to how things were, not after tonight. Right now, we’re good. Kitt is like the most fun and scariest roller coaster ride I’ve been on, and although I know, for the sake of my sanity, I should get off, I can’t.
He made it impossible for me to give up when he turned on the romance.
“She’s going to die. So is she. And him,” Kitt says.
The movie has only just started, but it’s a horror, and the teens will start getting picked off soon. His arm is around me, and I’m tucked into his side. It’s the most natural position we’ve ever been in together.
“Yeah, and she’s going to be the sole survivor,” I add, curling my arm around his chest. If I’m wrong, I’m going to be pissed off. As much as I love it when a film breaks the rules, I hate it, too. I let myself like the one I think will survive, and when that person dies…
It’s the reason I have to have someone hold my hand while I watch The Walking Dead. They don’t give a shit who they kill.
“Are you going to get angry if you’re wrong?” Kitt asks, smirking. He knows me well.
I lazily bump his shoulder with my head. “Yep.”
He laughs and presses a kiss to the top of my head.
See? This is more than friendship.
“Thought so. You hate to be wrong about this stuff.”
“Of course. You’d hate to be wrong about something musical.”
“TV isn’t your career, Tex.”
Might as well be.
I squeeze his middle again. I like it, like how he feels. “So, Mr Rock Star, are you happy with the way things are going? All I see on social media is how awesome you guys are.”
“It’s amazing,” he says against my hair where he places yet another kiss.
I’m so not getting bored of that anytime soon. It feels too good.
“I never thought it’d be like this. You know, I was always happy with where we were. Earning enough through music has been my goal. Of course I wanted to sell out stadiums, but as long as I was doing what I loved for a living, I was content. This is so much more than I could’ve imagined.”
“You deserve it. I love Filthy Sound, and you all work so hard.”
He kisses my head again.
Don’t jump him.