chest and set him to rights. It's not happening. We talked about it, get over it. Something like that. “You're no good for me,” I tell him baldly.
“ I disagree.”
“ Awfully convenient. Go on, tell me all about how we'd be amazing together. That it's worth exploring.” It's nothing I haven't heard before.
This is where the poetry and promises come in. I'm so over that, and yet I'm actually shocked when all M'anu does is say, “No.”
And he kisses me.
Kisses. Me.
An oh-my-god, is-this-happening kiss. He closes the distance between our mouths over the course of a breath and knocks mine right out of me. This is a melding of lips that blows my mind. He takes over in his unique way, tilting my head with a firm hand so that we're perfectly angled, his thumb under my jaw. When fireworks go off in my blood, I realize my eyes are closed. My heart rings in my ears and I sway closer. My whole universe just contracted to M'anu and the sum of his parts, his lips—warm, certain, tender—owning mine.
Holy dear mother of all that is sacred.
It's...amazing.
He's right. He doesn't have to say a word. It's obvious.
When he pulls back I stay right where I am. Gobsmacked. Thunderstruck. Dumbfounded. It reached up and hit me right between the eyes. I blink, staring up at him with my jaw slack.
M'anu's grin is pure feline. How can a guy be so pretty and look so lethal at the same time?
He swoops down and hauls me up. “Holy—” I yelp, grabbing onto his shoulders for balance.
He sets me up on the bench. He looks up at me. “Much better.”
When he kisses me this time, I'm prepared. Sort of. The whoo-hoo rollercoaster feeling isn't quite so startling but just as solid in impact. Not once but twice now. Man, I'm in trouble.
Like in all cases, though, I'm not going down without a fight.
I kiss him back. I lay it on him like I've never kissed anybody before, threading my fingers through his short hair and holding him where I want him. I taste, lick, and explore every inch of his mouth, which seems to be just the right size for mine. He makes a sound of approval, his grip tightening on the waistband of my jeans.
He tastes so good. Mouths taste like mouths—like saliva and toothpaste of choice. Not M'anu. He's commitment and determination, velvet smoothness and tangy spice. Biochemistry? Maybe, but who cares? It's addicting.
I turn my head and go deeper for a split second before I have to come up for air.
Pretty boy just turned beautiful man, his lips swollen and his eyes drowsy with pleasure. I brush his bangs back, drinking him in. I can't believe an exotic male like this can manage to appear inviting, but he does. He watches me, hiding nothing. It's a raw, open moment. I think he can see more of me than I can of him right now, and that's a lot.
Nobody has to tell me this is crazy or sudden or probably not going to end well. I figured that out on my own. Yet I think that this moment will stay crystal clear to me even when I get old. I'll always be able to remember the way he smells, the slight parting of his mouth as he pants, and the steady pressure of his hands on my hips. The big bad open and available to me. All I have to do is reach out. “You scare the hell out of me,” I admit quietly, studying every nuance of his expression.
He makes a sound under his breath that might be called a chuckle, except no human has ever made that kind of noise before. His chest vibrates against my sternum. His hand slides from my hip to the small of my back, spreading wide. “Do I make your heart beat faster, female?”
My breath hitches. His touch is so vivid my shirt might as well not even be there. “Yes.”
Gold-flecked eyes grow more hooded, tracing the curve of my cheek. His palm smooths upward until the pads of his fingers rest on where the shirt stops and the skin between my shoulders is exposed. “Do I make your skin pebble?”
It does, right on command. Even my nipples. “Y-yes.” Where did that frog in my
“ I disagree.”
“ Awfully convenient. Go on, tell me all about how we'd be amazing together. That it's worth exploring.” It's nothing I haven't heard before.
This is where the poetry and promises come in. I'm so over that, and yet I'm actually shocked when all M'anu does is say, “No.”
And he kisses me.
Kisses. Me.
An oh-my-god, is-this-happening kiss. He closes the distance between our mouths over the course of a breath and knocks mine right out of me. This is a melding of lips that blows my mind. He takes over in his unique way, tilting my head with a firm hand so that we're perfectly angled, his thumb under my jaw. When fireworks go off in my blood, I realize my eyes are closed. My heart rings in my ears and I sway closer. My whole universe just contracted to M'anu and the sum of his parts, his lips—warm, certain, tender—owning mine.
Holy dear mother of all that is sacred.
It's...amazing.
He's right. He doesn't have to say a word. It's obvious.
When he pulls back I stay right where I am. Gobsmacked. Thunderstruck. Dumbfounded. It reached up and hit me right between the eyes. I blink, staring up at him with my jaw slack.
M'anu's grin is pure feline. How can a guy be so pretty and look so lethal at the same time?
He swoops down and hauls me up. “Holy—” I yelp, grabbing onto his shoulders for balance.
He sets me up on the bench. He looks up at me. “Much better.”
When he kisses me this time, I'm prepared. Sort of. The whoo-hoo rollercoaster feeling isn't quite so startling but just as solid in impact. Not once but twice now. Man, I'm in trouble.
Like in all cases, though, I'm not going down without a fight.
I kiss him back. I lay it on him like I've never kissed anybody before, threading my fingers through his short hair and holding him where I want him. I taste, lick, and explore every inch of his mouth, which seems to be just the right size for mine. He makes a sound of approval, his grip tightening on the waistband of my jeans.
He tastes so good. Mouths taste like mouths—like saliva and toothpaste of choice. Not M'anu. He's commitment and determination, velvet smoothness and tangy spice. Biochemistry? Maybe, but who cares? It's addicting.
I turn my head and go deeper for a split second before I have to come up for air.
Pretty boy just turned beautiful man, his lips swollen and his eyes drowsy with pleasure. I brush his bangs back, drinking him in. I can't believe an exotic male like this can manage to appear inviting, but he does. He watches me, hiding nothing. It's a raw, open moment. I think he can see more of me than I can of him right now, and that's a lot.
Nobody has to tell me this is crazy or sudden or probably not going to end well. I figured that out on my own. Yet I think that this moment will stay crystal clear to me even when I get old. I'll always be able to remember the way he smells, the slight parting of his mouth as he pants, and the steady pressure of his hands on my hips. The big bad open and available to me. All I have to do is reach out. “You scare the hell out of me,” I admit quietly, studying every nuance of his expression.
He makes a sound under his breath that might be called a chuckle, except no human has ever made that kind of noise before. His chest vibrates against my sternum. His hand slides from my hip to the small of my back, spreading wide. “Do I make your heart beat faster, female?”
My breath hitches. His touch is so vivid my shirt might as well not even be there. “Yes.”
Gold-flecked eyes grow more hooded, tracing the curve of my cheek. His palm smooths upward until the pads of his fingers rest on where the shirt stops and the skin between my shoulders is exposed. “Do I make your skin pebble?”
It does, right on command. Even my nipples. “Y-yes.” Where did that frog in my
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