Self-doubt sneaks its way through my subconscious. Self-preservation and maybe shame forces me to take a step back. Hetch doesn’t let me get far. His hands move to either side of my face, forcing me back into his space.
“Been thinking about owning these lips since the second I saw them.” His gaze locks onto my mouth, and his fingers tighten in my hair. “Just didn’t want to rush it.” He’s close, close enough I can breathe in his need and let it sink into my bones. The whole scene is almost too intense. The way he studies my lips, as if he’s committing every small line, every dip to memory. The hardness of his body pressed against mine, imprinting me with his presence, commanding me with his strength. His fingers, tightly wrapped in my hair, hold me hostage while still caressing my need.
“So fucking perfect.” He drags his hungry gaze from my lips and gives me his eyes. “Almost too perfect.” Before I can ask what he means, his mouth brushes over mine. Once, twice, three times before his tongue dives between my lips and meets mine in hungry need.
I groan at the contact. Hetch hums at the sound, the vibration sparking an intense fire burning through my veins. Eyes open, gazes locked, he continues to own my mouth, my body, like it's never been owned before.
“Fuck me.” He pulls back slightly, his eyes flash with confusion, before flicking back to hunger. Then his lips lock back to mine, diving his tongue back in my mouth and branding me like he owns me.
It’s like being thirsty on a hot day, and downing a bottle of water in twenty seconds. You swallow every last drop, suck every bit of air until you’re out of breath. Only then are you satisfied, fulfilled.
Relieved.
That’s what kissing Hetch is like.
Pressed together, mouth-to-mouth, tongue-to-tongue, I can’t quench my need fast enough. I drink, he drinks, our tongues dance, dueling together, thrusting us forward to drink some more.
Finally, after the need no longer feels desperate, and the want hurts a little less, the kiss slows, and the perfect way his lips found mine in the beginning, becomes the end.
“Jesus, Lib.” The whisper of his tongue tracing my top lip and the way he shortens my name in a hungry need only turns me on more. I don’t know what makes my knees weaker. The kiss or the way my name rolls off his tongue. If I'm honest, it has to be the kiss. I’ve never had a kiss hit me so hard before.
“Yeah.” I open my eyes, not realizing I closed them. Hetch keeps me pressed to his front, but detangles his hands from my hair. His thumb moves to my lips, and in the gentlest way a man’s ever touched me, fixes what I’m assuming is the mess of my red lips.
“Get your shit, tell your girls you’re going home and meet me at the door.” He breaks the connection first, and bosses in a way that doesn’t bring my bitch out. Unable to utter a word, I nod faster than my normal, respectable self would have liked to and let my feet follow through with his order. All previous promises of my sex ban have flown out the window as I make my way back to the table.
“I’m heading home, guys. You all okay to get home?” I manage to wake my tongue from its kiss-induced haze and force it into conversation.
“Yeah, girl. Your mom and dad have Arabella tonight. I’m going to stay.” Payton eyes me up and down before searching for Hetch.
Please, God, I hope he’s still in the hallway.
“You sure?” I flick my gaze back around the table. I’m sure I look like a hot mess, but no one calls me on it.
“Yes, I’m sure. Hart was telling me about his daughter.” It’s a hint to say she is fine and to let it go. “Now, go, or your vagina might combust if you wait any longer.” She laughs, forcing my blush into a new shade of red.
Yeah, she knows what’s happening.
Not needing to have any more attention on me, I take her for her word and lean in for a quick hug. “Love you. Message me when you get home.”
“Message me when you’re done,” she quips, before pushing me away then turning back to her conversation. I say good-bye to the rest of the table, grab my coat, and then leave. It only takes me a few seconds to find Hetch waiting for me outside the front door. When our eyes connect, I know there’s no going back. The need outweighs the concern. The want overpowers the reasoning.
Maybe tomorrow I will regret this decision and wish I held on stronger, but tomorrow’s Liberty will be biased. She’ll already know what it feels like to have Hetch between her legs.
Today’s Liberty doesn’t. Today’s Liberty needs it more than the next breath.
Five
Hetch
Her eyes lock with mine the second she steps outside and my pulse quickens, almost in the same way it does before I’m about to go out on a SWAT call.
Jesus, what is it with this one?
“Ready?” she asks, stopping short of an arm's length in front of me.