Hold Me Close - Talia Hibbert Page 0,196

he tried not to smile. Apparently, Hannah wouldn’t say anything so human as More. That was just fine. That was just perfect, since it was her.

He wanted to taste her. Badly. And since it had been decided that, for just this one time, they’d both get what they wanted…

He released her, leaving her shirt slightly dishevelled. Her nipples, hard and dark, were visible through the white fabric now that her bra had been made useless. He left that single button loose, so that if she bent or turned or made any sudden movement, he’d see exactly what he wanted to see.

“Hold up your skirt.” Firm words, so she wouldn’t hesitate, because if she did, he might die. When she gathered up the fabric with eager, efficient hands, he closed his eyes for a moment, just to thank his lucky stars. When he opened them again, he found heaven.

Hannah’s tongue darted over her lower lip before she said, “Can I kiss you?”

Nate’s blood pounded through his ears. He ran his hands over her thighs, tracing whisper-fine ridges that might be stretch-marks, then sharp, raised lines that were definitely scars. “You can do whatever the fuck you want. Always. Please.”

A slight smile tilted her lips before she leaned forward and cupped his jaw. He hadn’t expected that. If he looked down, he’d probably see her tits spilling out of her shirt, but he couldn’t tear his gaze from her face—from those electric eyes, sending a shot of pure power through him with every glance. He was hypnotised by the soft pressure of her hand and the way she frowned when she was turned on. Then she kissed him, and all he could think about was touching and tasting and drowning in her.

While her lips branded him, while she ruined him with nothing but the heat of her tongue and the feel of her palm on his face, Nate’s hands roamed from her thighs to the curve of her arse. It was covered in ordinary, sensible cotton, completely expected and impossibly arousing. He could feel his cock leaking pre-come even though she’d barely touched him. It was just that hand, the hand she was using right now to stroke his cheek, and… fuck.

He pulled her underwear down, and she let him—or maybe she didn’t notice, because this was the kind of kiss that distracted people thoroughly. But, no, she knew, because she lifted each of her feet in turn to help him ease off the fabric. He put them in his pocket. Once might be enough for her, but he knew that he wouldn’t stop needing her. He’d still lie awake at night thinking of her. And when that happened, he wanted her fucking underwear.

She pulled away, breathless, and said, “Kissing you is unbelievable. Why is that? Why have I never kissed anyone like that?”

“Maybe you’ve never kissed the right person.”

She blinked slowly. “Maybe I haven’t.”

He wanted to kiss her again, but he wanted something else more. The sharp, sweet-edged scent of her arousal was sending him out of his mind. He pressed the heel of his hand against his dick, as hard as he could, but it didn’t help. Slinging her legs over his shoulders and spreading her open and licking her clit until she screamed, that would help.

So he pushed her toward one of the stools at the kitchen island, and she sat. His hands shaking, Nate grasped her thighs. They were so soft, so different to his own lean muscle; he wanted hours to drown in her, but this would have to be enough. He’d make it enough.

She resisted a little when he tried to push her thighs apart, so he kissed the side of one knee and murmured, “Spread your legs for me, beautiful. I want to see.”

“Is that all?” she asked, her voice shaky, her smile somewhere between sweet and nervous. He didn’t want her to be nervous. He didn’t know she could be nervous. His heart clenched like a fist.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. Just tell me.”

“I know,” she said. “I know. You… you can do whatever you want.” It was almost the same thing he’d said to her. Nate wondered if she’d experienced this sharp zing of satisfaction at the words. Did she feel even half of the things he felt?

Doubtful. She was too perfect for emotions this messy. She was too sensible to let need and adoration spill all over an impossible situation like theirs.

That depressing thought was easy to ignore