The Gritty Truth (The Whiskeys Dark Knights at Peaceful Harbor #7) - Melissa Foster Page 0,17
“This one’s for you.”
His fingers gently circled her wrist as he lowered his mouth over the marshmallow, eating it in one bite and sucking the sugary treat from her fingers. Her eyes turned to pools of liquid heat, her chest rising with heavier breaths. He leaned closer and brushed his lips over hers, whispering, “How about this one?”
“Quincy” fell wistfully from her lips.
He slid his arm around her waist, drawing her even closer, and said, “I promise to keep my hands to myself, but my lips want yours.”
“Kiss me.”
He slid his tongue along her lower lip and kissed the edge of her mouth. “So sweet,” he whispered, and traced the bow of her upper lip. “I fucking love your lips.” She made a needy sound as his mouth descended upon hers, and he reveled in her softness, the feel of her tongue gliding over his, tentative and somehow also eager. He was aware of everything about her—the way she held her breath for seconds at a time, releasing it with a hungry whimper, the feel of her arms circling him, drawing him closer, allowing him to take the kiss deeper. Her mouth was a treasure trove of pleasure. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she opened wider for him, drawing a groan from some untouched place deep inside him. His hand skimmed down her hip, and damn, she felt incredible. He remembered his promise and forced his hand to remain there. He had the overwhelming desire to be closer, even if fully clothed. He leaned into her, taking her down on her back, but she broke the kiss, eyes wide.
“Quincy, I can’t.”
The worry in her voice tore at him. He gazed into her eyes and said, “I’m not trying to do anything more than kiss you. I just wanted to hold you while we kissed. We can stop.”
He started to sit up, and she grabbed his arm, a spark of surprise glimmering in her eyes. “Wait. You’re really okay just kissing?”
She was so sweet and innocent, he wanted to wrap her up and take care of her as badly as he wanted to kiss her. “Yes. I’ve waited a long time to kiss you, and I’m in no hurry to do more. I know you’re nervous. I am, too. I’ve never wanted to hold a woman when I was kissing her. Not like I do with you. This thing between us is…” More powerful than the lure of drugs ever was.
“Electric,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“And scary.”
“A little. Yes.”
She licked her lips, trust settling in her eyes again. “Most guys wouldn’t admit that.”
“Most guys haven’t lived the life I have. I value honesty, and I don’t break promises, Roni. I want to see you again. I want to do the scavenger hunt with you Friday night if you’re free, and see you next week, and the week after that. I’m not interested in a quick roll in the hay.”
“I believe you. I like kissing you. I just didn’t want to give you the wrong impression.”
God, this woman… “I like kissing you, too, and I like that you’re as honest as me. I could kiss you into tomorrow.”
A bashful smile curved her lips. “I have to be up for work early tomorrow. It’s one of my long days. But maybe you could kiss me for a little while longer?”
“Jesus, Roni, you get me all twisted up inside.”
She wrinkled her nose and whispered, “Is that good?”
“So good, baby, you’re redefining the word.” He lowered his mouth to hers, and all those twisted knots inside him fell away.
Chapter Three
“WOULD YOU SLOW down?” Angela said as she and Roni hurried down the block Friday afternoon.
They were picking up lunch from Jazzy Joe’s and stopping at the bookstore where Quincy worked, so Roni could say a quick hello. She and Quincy had texted a lot more often the last two days, but they’d both been busy with work, and last night he’d had a date with Kennedy and her little brother, Lincoln, which he’d said he tried to do fairly often. She loved that he made his niece and nephew a priority. But after Wednesday night, when they’d lain in his truck kissing and talking until nearly midnight—mostly kissing—she couldn’t wait to see him. And not only for those steamy kisses, although she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about them, either. She didn’t have a lot of experience with kissing, but she was quite sure Quincy’s butterfly-inducing, toe-curling kisses could win gold medals. By the time