Faceoff by Kelly Jamieson Page B

gazed back at him, gleaming in the faint light.
    “So what’s wrong with it?”
    “You know as well as I do. Our families.”
    “They don’t have to know about this.”
    She sighed. “They’ll know. Somehow. But even if they don’t―what if this makes things all awkward between us? That will affect them.”
    He stroked her soft lip, rubbed his fingertips over her velvety cheek. “I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”
    “I don’t either.”
    He regarded her solemnly. “Do we stop then?”
    She held his gaze.
    “I don’t want to hurt you,” he growled. “But we need to be honest. I want you. Hell, Kyla, I can’t explain it except you make me so fucking hot for you.” Her eyelashes fluttered. “But I’m not into relationships. Relationships haven’t worked out so well for me in the past. And I’ve got a lot on my plate right now with this move.”
    She gave a tiny nod. “I know. I’m not looking for a relationship either. I’m trying to make partner and I don’t have time for anything else in my life.”
    He wanted to point out to her how unhealthy that was, that there should be other things in her life―family, friends, time for herself, for fun, for her health. But since he’d also just said he wasn’t into relationships, he pushed that thought away and said, “Then we’re on the same page. I know you feel it―we both want it. We want each other.”
    “Yes.”
    “Okay then…” And he kissed her again. Covered her mouth with his and took it, in a long, slow, heated kiss. Christ, her mouth was soft. And warm. And sweet. He licked along her bottom lip and then inside her mouth, slowly. Heat rushed through his body, an intense urgency that he had to fight to control. Slow…easy…they had all night.
    All night. The thought made his body burn, his gut ache with longing for her.
    He slid his hand into her hair, all silky, and bit softly at her lips. She let out a soft sigh of pleasure and then, finally, her hands came up to touch him too. One hand curled around his biceps, the other clutched his shoulder. Her tongue slid against his, delicate and warm, and more heat built inside him, low down inside him. He groaned.
    “Jesus, Kyla,” he sighed against her mouth. “I just wanna eat you up.” An almost overpowering sexual hunger for her rose up inside him.
    “I know, I know.” They kissed again, mouths clinging, tongues playing. The temperature in the tent rose by several degrees even as the wind picked up outside, blowing the trees into dancing shadows, rushing through the branches in soft whispers and moans.
    He shifted his mouth from hers and dragged it across her jaw, breathing in that coconut scent that smelled like sex on the beach, remembering fingering her to an orgasm earlier that day. And then she closed her teeth on his jaw and bit him, gently, and heat spiked inside him, hot and fast. Her tongue dragged across his skin and his mind blew up then, and he moved over her, pushing her body into the air mattress with his own, on his elbows above her, holding her head with both hands, and he kissed her again, this time hard, demanding, urgent.
    “Okay,” he gasped. “Forget talking.”
    Her hands slid over him, down his back and then up into his hair, back down to his ass. Her hips lifted against him, just barely, a supplication, and he pushed back, pelvis to pelvis, his dick hard and throbbing against her softness.
    He hoped to god she didn’t want to stop now, because it would fucking kill him. He slipped his hand down and found her breast. It filled his hand with lush softness, so perfect and soft beneath her T-shirt and bra. His head spun, blood pounded in his veins. She felt so good, and again he breathed in her scent. He gently squeezed her, rubbed his palm over the nub of her nipple. He wanted to rip her clothes off and get her naked, skin to skin, but…they had all night.
    He opened his mouth on the side of her neck and gently sucked, licked and sucked again.