Betting on You

53

f i f t y t h r e e

It was just meant to be an innocent kiss.

A kiss of longing to communicate that he held my heart; Always had, and always would. A kiss to show him that I cared about him far more than I was supposed to. A kiss to let him know that I still wanted him as much as he wanted me.

And now I couldn't seem to breathe.

Luke's arms were holding me so tightly to him, his lips covering my own, his tongue dancing with mine, and my senses were on overdrive. He tasted like peppermint and something sweet, which made me yearn for more because it was so familiar and safe and him.

Good. So good.

My hands were in his hair and I couldn't remember the last time I had run my fingers through his soft blonde locks, tugging at his roots, loving the way he elicited a moan. He tilted his head, angling for a deeper kiss as if trying to prove to me just how much he wanted this.

Right. This feels so right.

It was as if his lips were made to kiss me. As if mine were made to kiss him. I couldn't describe the fire that ignited in my blood as his hands trailed down my spine, making me shiver. They reached the small of my back, his fingertips leaving a trail of fire through the material of my dress that imprinted on my skin.

Long. It had been way too long since the last time we've kissed.

I barely felt Luke's hand as he let one slip from my waist and grasp my hip, pressing it against his in a desperate attempt to get closer. Closer. I needed to be closer. He leaned into me more and my back arched. I almost felt the urge to crawl under his skin. He's not close enough. I was itching to feel him touch me everywhere. It had been so long since he had touched me like this.

Are we making a mistake?

There was no time to think about that because suddenly I was parting our lips, only to whisper, "The counter," breathlessly against his mouth. "Put me on the counter."

He wasted no time and obliged, groaning as I pressed my mouth back to his, his hands going to my thighs, to which he hoisted me up roughly and turned, sitting me on the counter as I had instructed. I was bold tonight, but I didn't care. With him standing between my legs like this, it was much easier to press my chest against his, securing my legs around his waist.

But the counter wasn't even that tall in this cramped little bathroom, and my head was still tilted slightly upwards to meet his lips, desperate for his kisses. My arms around his neck couldn't stop grasping at him, clinging to him as I whimpered for more.

He let one of his arms remain wrapped around the small of my back, arching me against him, as his other went to my thigh. His fingers wrapped around it, grasping harshly, as if he couldn't get a firm hold on me at all. Immediately my skin was burning where he touched me, his fingertips gliding up, and up, and up, and—

"Touch me," I broke our lips apart to beg — beg! Here I was, a begging, desperate mess, all because he was touching me and kissing me and I could not seem to get enough. I pressed my lips to the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, then his neck. "Please."

He groaned as I lowered my hands to paw at the buttons of his red button-up, trying to undo them. "You drive me f*cking insane."

I kissed my way back up his neck, to his lips, smiling against them and whispering, "That's the f*cking point."