keep them in a book to hold onto long after this moment.
But I knew better.
I knew those words were just a ploy, just a cute, clever way to make me swoon and spread my legs.
And then, just like every other guy, he’d be gone.
I shoved those thoughts out of my mind for the time being, focusing instead on the way Makoa’s eyes studied my lips like they were the answers to every quiz he’d ever take. He brushed his thumb over the bottom one, and I chased it with my tongue, eliciting a sharp inhale from him before his eyes met mine.
Then, carefully, with purpose and conviction, he pulled me into him, his fingers still in my hair, his breath warm on my lips until the very moment he pressed his own to mine.
I hated our first kiss.
It was the kind of kiss you saw in the movies, slow and sensual, his lips too soft and warm and perfect where they met mine. He held my face in just the right way, with confidence and care in equal measure, and he inhaled at the contact like he was breathing in all of me. His hands trembled a bit when he deepened the kiss, and I leaned into it, emotion surging through me no matter how I tried to fight it, like I was just deep enough in the ocean to get pummeled by wave after wave without being able to catch my breath.
That kiss was magnetic. It was fireworks and shooting stars and a million fairytales lived out in a single moment.
It was the kind of kiss that could ruin a girl if she wasn’t careful.
If she didn’t know better.
Luckily, I did.
Desperate to kill the romance threatening to pull me into dangerous territory, I wrapped my arms around Makoa to deepen the kiss even more, my tongue jetting out to meet his. He groaned at the sensation, and I smiled in victory, leaping into his arms without warning. I knew it would give him no choice but to let me fall or catch me.
And catch me, he did.
My legs wrapped around his waist, and before I knew it, I was pinned against my front door, Makoa’s hands digging so deep into my hip bones that I prayed for a bruise to be left in their wake.
I sighed, letting my head drop back against the door and allowing access to my neck, which Makoa took greedily. His lips sucked and kissed along the skin, and I rolled my hips, letting out a moan of my own when I felt his hard length straining against his jeans.
It didn’t take more than that brief moment of friction for me to know he definitely did not have a micropenis.
Wrapping one arm full around his neck to secure myself where he held me, I dipped one hand down between us, kissing him hard as my fingers danced down his chest, his abdomen. I slipped them under the band of his jeans, dragging a line from hip to hip, but his belt made it impossible for me to get any deeper.
Makoa groaned, biting my lip before he forced my hands above my head. He pinned them there at the wrists with one massive hand before the other palmed my breast, hard, and I leaned into the aggressive touch with a silent plea for more.
God, he was all man. He was all hard muscle and dominance with me pinned between him and the door, and I wanted nothing more than for him to devour me until nothing was left for any other man who dared try after him.
I bucked my hips again, catching a line of friction that made us both moan before I ripped a hand free and shoved it between us. This time, I rubbed his cock over the denim, eyes fluttering at the feel of how thick and hard he was even restrained by those damn jeans.
“Oh, fuck,” he whispered when I gripped him, flexing his hips into my palm.
I kissed his neck, biting at the skin and rubbing his cock while my own need pooled between my legs. I was going to be so wet for this man by the time he took my clothes off that he’d need a fucking snorkel to go down on me.
The longer he kissed me and trapped me between that door, the more my impatience grew. When I couldn’t stand it any longer, I unwrapped my arms from around his neck, confident that he had me, and