I brush my teeth before hurrying to my room, trading the wet bikini for shorts and a comfy sports bra and slathering my arms and legs in my favorite lotion. I make sure the doors to my balcony are locked, fluff my pillows…and realize I’m tinkering. I’m restless—filled with adrenaline and unresolved yearning, creating ways to try and release it.
I slip my robe back on, and after double-checking the knot at my waist, it’s as though my feet guide themselves. Perhaps I’m dreaming, I try and kid myself, as I raise my hand to knock.
“Come in,” he says, with what I suspect is a tiny edge of wonder, from behind his bedroom door.
I turn the knob and push the door open slowly, both frightened and thrumming with expectancy at what I might find.
Kingston sits on the edge of his bed, both arms propped up on his knees. The moonlight highlights the uneasiness on his face.
“Don’t worry.” He pats the bed beside him. “Come. Sit.”
I rush to do so before I can change my mind, and he chuckles as I bounce off the mattress a bit with my hasty landing.
“‘What makes resisting temptation difficult for most is they don’t want to discourage it completely,’” he grumbles.
“Huh?” I ask dumbly, understanding perfectly well what he said—and, even more so, what he meant.
“It’s a quote I heard once. Thought nothing of it…until now.” He lets out a long, labored breath. “Why’d you come in here, Echo?”
“I…” I stumble over my reply, feeling my cheeks beginning to sport a blush I pray he doesn’t notice in the muted light. “I’m not sure.”
“I believe that.” He shifts, bending one leg up on the bed to sit sideways and face me. There’s a magnetism, a chemistry, between us that’s making it hard for me to think straight, breathe steadily, or stop inserting myself into situations I know I shouldn’t.
“Turn around,” he orders sternly as he takes my shoulders and assists in pivoting me to face the window, putting my back to him.
But his hands don’t release me once he’s done. And he must feel me tense, because he leans in, his mouth finding my ear.
“Just a massage, to relax you enough to sleep. It’s the least I can do after getting you wound up so tight.”
He pulls my robe down off my shoulders just a bit, and begins to knead the muscles there with a firm, fluid touch.
“Feel good?” he asks, and my head bobs in reply. One hand moves to rub the back of my neck, and my head falls forward. “Your hair is lovely,” he hums, “but I’ve often wondered how beautiful it would look grown out, long and flowing.”
My mother had cried when I cut off all my dark hair into the short pixie cut I wear now. I whisper the same explanation I’d given her to him.
“It fell in my eyes when I performed.”
“Makes sense. Like I said, it’s nice this way too. And your performance—”
“Thank you,” I finish for him, already knowing he enjoyed my routine and unsure whether I can handle hearing him describe his reaction while his hands play along my skin.
My robe falls lower, down around my waist, and his hands follow its descent. His touch zeroes in on the dip of my lower back, and I absorb the tingle each of his fingertips ignite with every glide.
“Echo,” he rasps, deep and gravelly, just as I moan and arch into his touch. “You’re exquisite. I can’t—”
His words cease and his hands disappear, replaced now by his lips. Hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses rain across my shoulders, then lower along my back as his heavy breathing fills the room. I silently curse the band of my sports bra when it prevents his lips from trailing lower.
I abandon all senses, the throbbing between my legs unbearable, and turn my face to find his mouth. His lifts his head as I do and it’s a blur, our mouths crashing together.
Oh, God. I can’t stifle the moan I release into our hot, ravenous kiss, and our tongues tangle frantically as if they might never have another chance. His hands come up to grab both my cheeks and he positions me to his will, angling my mouth so he can delve deeper and faster—a hunger I match stroke for heavenly stroke.
I pivot my body quickly and let my hands roam along his chest, exploring each sinewy muscle, every firm ripple. It’s sensation overload, and I fear I could pass out at any moment.
And then it’s gone as he stands abruptly, letting out a roar filled with pain and frustration, his glorious chest heaving faster than my own.
“You should go now.” He turns away from me, his hand rubbing the back of his neck vigorously. “Now, Echo. This was a mistake. Never should’ve happened. Good night.”
I fumble to put my robe back in place, wavering a bit as I stand. I feel like a fool—a slutty, dismissed fool. Had I done it wrong? It was my first kiss, and the thought of having messed it up so badly that he’s demanding I leave shatters me.
But I don’t ask. Instead, I rush silently from his room back to mine, flopping onto my bed face first. The last thing I remember before I fall asleep is his stupid warning about temptation.
And my tears.
Chapter 19