Purposely staying as close as possible, I raise my head to meet her gaze. She’s not one to openly share her feelings, but her eyes betray her every time. I’m intent not to let her spook and run from me, which will probably be her initial reaction. “Layne,” I whisper and she opens her eyes.
At first, they’re dreamy and filled with lust and need. When she begins to realize what just happened, fear starts to fill her beautiful blue eyes. “Layne,” I repeat. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first time I saw you. I’ve fought it every day since then. I know you’ve been hurt, but I’m not him. Look at me, Layne. See me here with you.”
“You’ve wanted to kiss me?” she asks. “Really?”
She’s still here with me. She’s not running away yet. “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to kiss you, Layne.”
“So, how was it for you? Did it live up to your expectations?”
“Hand to God, that was the best kiss I’ve ever had.” Doubt flashes across her face and I continue. “You know me well enough by now, Layne. I don’t lie.”
“It was an incredible kiss,” she agrees. Her cheeks flush and I know she’s about to admit something to me, too. “It was the best kiss I’ve ever had, too. I’ve never had a kiss actually curl my toes before.”
“Layne, I’d really, really love to curl your toes again. But I’m afraid you’ll regret it tomorrow when you’ve sobered up from drinking a whole bottle of wine tonight.”
She scrunches her eyebrows in confusion for a second before she chuckles. “I didn’t drink a whole bottle of wine, Ace. I had one glass of it before I knocked it over because the damn fire ants attacked me.”
“You’re sober?”
“Completely.”
“I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear that,” I admit. “Wait. That means you shared your personal life with me willingly, then?”
Uncertainty clouds her eyes for a moment. “I just thought I should give you the benefit of the doubt if I’m going to ask Frankie to give you a chance.”
“So you’re the sacrificial lamb, putting your own well-being on the line so you can protect Frankie?”
“I’d rather it be me who gets hurt again than him,” she admits. “But I don’t think you’re that kind of man, Ace, or I wouldn’t take the risk at all.”
“Layne?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to give you the best kiss you’ve ever had now. Your toes will never be straight again.”
Chapter Nine
Layne
The silky smooth feel of his tongue gliding across mine sends shivers down my spine. His intrinsic taste is every bit as intoxicating as that bottle of strawberry wine, except he’s much more addictive. When his calloused fingers glide across my cheek, a need greater than I’ve ever known consumes me and makes me want to beg for him to touch me everywhere.
I am safe and secure under the weight of his body, and his lips and tongue move with expert precision and determination. Even when I try to rush him and greedily take more, he won’t allow it. He keeps complete control, drawing out the pleasure, leaving me wanting—no, needing—more. My next breath is dependent upon his kiss, his touch, his taste. What I was intent would never happen again is happening right before me, but I can’t willfully stop this any more than I can willfully stop my heart from beating.
He shifts his weight and settles his hips between my legs. The sudden friction against my clit causes an intense moan to escape from my throat. His responding growl only amplifies the fire that is about to combust between us. His hips flex and his erection slides across me. My fingers curl into his shirt, my nails scrape across his skin, and my neck arches in response. Ace’s lips move down to my exposed neck as he kisses, licks, and nips at the erogenous area.
“You taste good everywhere,” he murmurs. “Your lips, your tongue, your neck. I can’t help but wonder what you taste like in other places.”
His hands find their way under my shirt, and he slowly pushes it up as he slides down. His fingers are sprawled out across my abdomen, heating my core from his mere touch. When the stubble from his faded beard scrapes across my stomach, my hands instinctively jerk to his head and my fingers glide through his light brown hair. He pulls my skin through his teeth, sucking it into his mouth, and then laving the area with his warm tongue.
“Mmm, the more I taste you, the better it gets,” he hums against my skin.
He lifts his eyes to look at me. Looking for permission? He has it, whatever he wants to do to me. Town gossip be damned. I don’t care what they think of me, how easy they think I am, or how jealous they are that he’s here with me. Not one of them has walked in my shoes, has felt what I’ve felt, or has been hurt in the way that I’ve been hurt—because none of them is me.
“Ace,” I beg with one word. A one-syllable, one-word plea.
Mixed emotions swirl in his eyes, and I can pick each one out as if it were a neon sign. Understanding—that my single word reply says so much more than I can. Relief—because I feel the same need he does. Determination—my carnal craving will be fully satisfied judging by the fire building in his eyes.