Holding his gaze, I lean in. My lips brush his. So gently it’s barely a touch. But it’s everything. I feel it down to my toes. Drew sucks in a sharp breath, his body going tight. So I do it again. Stronger. More sure. Clinging just a bit to his lower lip.
And then he groans. His fingers thread into my hair, clutching tight as he tilts his head and kisses me back. It isn’t hard or frantic. It’s a warm, melting exploration, as if we’ve fallen into the middle of a kiss, tongues sliding, lips melding and parting in a slow rhythm. And I ignite, burning brighter than the sun. Sensation, want, need, surge through me on a moan that’s lost in his mouth.
Drew shivers. His fingertips run along my neck, my cheek, and back down again, as his lips nuzzle and suck on mine. Going deeper, having more of me every time. And every time my heart clenches just a bit harder within my chest.
Dizziness swamps me. There is no up or down, just Drew. Drew’s mouth. His taste and his heat. I want to sink into him, drown in his touch. I tremble, whimpering in frustration as I rock against his erection and open my mouth wider for his kiss. He holds me tighter. Grounding me.
“It’s better,” he says inside a kiss.
“Better?” My hands roam the plains of his chest, the rounded swells of his shoulders. I’ve missed the feel of him against me.
“Kissing you. It’s better than I imagined.”
I hadn’t let myself imagine. I touch his cheek, and our gazes collide. My breath grows short. My heart actually hurts. “Drew.” I don’t know what else to say. But it seems enough for him right now. He holds me like I’m precious to him, like he wants to fuse us together.
“Come home with me,” he whispers between kisses that are growing more urgent, fierce. His skin is damp, his body shaking as hard as mine. “I need you, Anna. I need you in my bed.”
I can barely keep my eyes open. My clothes smother me. Sweat tickles down my back, and my thighs tremble with need. And I can’t stop kissing him. Deep, light, hard, soft. It’s too much. I knew it would be. I am lost in him.
“Anna…” His voice is weak now. Rough as his breathing.
“Yes,” I manage. “Yes.”
Pressing his forehead to mine, he nods once, his fingertips still roaming over my face as if he needs to memorize it by touch. “Okay.” Another seeking kiss. “Okay.”
I STAY IN his lap as he drives us home. It’s stupid and dangerous but neither of us are thinking very clearly now. It’s not an option to move off of him, to let him go. Drew’s arm remains wrapped around my waist, his big hand clamped on my hip as if he’s afraid I might change my mind, try to escape.
I don’t. I won’t. I’m too far gone now. I’m weak and needy for him. So he drives, and my head rests on his shoulder as my fingers trace his neck, touch the spot where his pulse is a rapid tattoo. He holds me tighter, presses his cheek against the top of my head, as he maneuvers the car down darkened neighborhood streets.
His heart beats as fast as my own. We’re almost humming with anxious anticipation. If we don’t get there soon, I know he’ll pull over and take me in the back seat, cramped or not. I almost make the suggestion, I’m so achy for him, but the car swerves into a driveway and then lurches to a halt.
He’s got the car turned off and the parking brake on in seconds. The door wrenches open, and somehow we’re out. I’m in his arms. I don’t even know how he’s accomplished swinging both himself and my body weight out of the car with such ease, nor do I protest that he’s carrying me. I’m pretty sure if he puts me down right now, we’d both fall.