kiss demanded every ounce of my attention, and I was very much on board with that plan. The sharp bite of his teeth against my lower lip pulled a moan from me that I tried to swallow. Three facts burned in my brain.
We were at Ian’s house. His parents were downstairs. And Ian had his hands under my tank top and the bra unhooked so smoothly I hadn’t even felt it. Everything about his kiss was hot, demanding, and relentless. The only time he let up was to pull away and lift my tank top up. Between us, we got it up and off. The lacy bra slid right off my arms, and Ian’s gaze locked on me.
Heat scorched over my skin. A part of me gulped. I was standing in front of Ian, shirtless and bare. The weight of my skirt was soft against my legs, but it had nothing on the way his gaze moved over me. I wanted this. I wanted him. I’d wanted him since that day in the pool when he’d kissed me. A real, proper kiss.
We stood there, hung in that moment, with his music playing as if our own personal soundtrack. The earlier threat of food coma all but fled. So did my worries about the fact that we were in his parents’ house. How many times had we been tucked away in here with his guitar in his lap while I sprawled on his bed? Impatience crept through me, or maybe it was just the way he kept looking at me, adoring me, I pushed my fingers into the elastic band of the skirt and pushed it down my thighs until I could wiggle and step out of it.
Then it was just me in a pair of lace panties that Archie had picked out that morning. The bra matched it, not that I gave a damn at the moment. Beads of perspiration glistened on Ian’s forehead, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. The weight of his hands settled on my hips, and I licked my lips slowly. When he tracked the motion of my tongue, almost riveted, joy bubbled through me.
It wasn’t just me.
“Ian…” I didn’t get to finish the thought. It was like saying his name just unleashed him, because his hands spasmed against my sides, and then he picked me up and pulled me right to him. I managed to get my arms around his neck before his mouth slammed down on mine. Coherent thought shredded as he dug his fingers into my ass. I curled upward, pressing my thighs to his hips, as desperate to be closer to him as he seemed to be in me.
The sleepy rope of tension inside of me grew taut. The rub of his shirt against my breasts teased my already taut nipples, and I ached for him. No words escaped, not that I could even form them with the way he held my mouth hostage. He kissed me like he wanted to gobble me up. And I didn’t care how much I’d eaten today, I was starving for him.
When he slid a finger under the seam of my panties, I pulled my head up. Not far, because I didn’t want to break the moment. So many broken moments along the way littered with misunderstandings and cracked by our own personal histories and family dramas.
Ian stared at me as he traced his finger along the curve of one butt cheek. It was hardly the most intimate touch, and at the same time, it was everything. His eyes blazed with a kind of intensity I didn’t think I’d ever seen in him before. A shiver worked its way up my spine at the promise in those deep blue eyes.
“Angel,” he whispered, his voice hoarse like it took real effort to squeeze my name out.
Oh, did I know how that felt.
Not quite trusting my voice at this point, I raised my eyebrows and hoped like hell he wasn’t about to back us off again. I mean, I’d understand. I had kind of jumped him—literally as well as figuratively. Pressuring him would be as dickish as if he were pressuring me.
“I don’t know,” he said slowly, as if each syllable cost him personal effort before he swiped his tongue over his lips. I couldn’t help but track the motion. From the last few minutes, I had three thoughts about that very talented tongue. I’d always loved the sounds he made with it when he sang. He