Hot Under His Collar - Andie J. Christopher Page 0,87
gave him a smile over her shoulder that told him that she had zero doubts about what they were about to do. He longed to kiss that pillow-soft mouth, and the sudden realization came over him that no one was stopping him.
He bounded up the last few steps and grabbed her shoulders. Her eyes widened in shock, and he realized that he was being awkward about this. Like they were in a car that was backfiring and jerking on the road. “Is this okay?” he asked. As soon as she nodded, he kissed her.
Even though they were standing in a hallway, where anyone could see, he didn’t hold back. The freedom in being able to savor the taste of her, to run his palms down the bare skin of her arms. To hold both of her hands as she nervelessly dropped her keys to the ground. All of it was heady and powerful. If his feet hadn’t been on the ground, he wouldn’t know which way was up and which was down. He felt as though he were floating through the ether, and that this must be what heaven was like.
She moaned and opened her lips for him. He took advantage, raising one of his hands to the back of her head so that it wouldn’t hurt her when he pressed her whole body with his. He couldn’t get enough contact with her. He wanted to disappear inside her for days or months at a time. And yet, he knew that wouldn’t be enough.
He dipped his knees and pressed her body higher, so that her breasts were pressed against his chest and her hips lined up with his. He couldn’t stop the guttural sound he made. After spending all this time trying to avoid falling into her, the relief of being able to touch her if they both wanted, however they both wanted, was drugging.
He probably would have fucked her against the door if her downstairs neighbor hadn’t come in. They might not have noticed that if said neighbor hadn’t cleared their throat. But he wasn’t embarrassed anymore. He didn’t have to be. Sasha appeared to be shell-shocked by their kiss, so he bent down to grab her keys and let them both inside.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
IF SASHA HAD ANY doubts about whether she and Patrick would have chemistry now that their love was no longer forbidden, Patrick’s last kiss had extinguished them. The pure longing in every line of his body made her center ache. It made her feel like she’d walked out of one of those shampoo commercials where the women always sounded like the shampoo was giving them an orgasm.
Hell, she was surprised that she hadn’t combusted against her front door, burning a hole in it instead of opening it like a civilized person. But nothing about how she felt about Patrick was civilized. And from the wild look on his face and the way his hair stood up in odd ways, indicating the path her fingers had taken, he didn’t feel entirely civilized about her either.
As soon as he shut the door and stalked toward her, she put up a hand to stop him. He halted his approach immediately, and that warmed her. He was so in tune with her that she probably hadn’t even needed to put the hand up. He would have done it as soon as he saw the concern on her face.
“Are we really doing this?” Sasha couldn’t quite believe it. She’d just resigned herself to never having him—to never even seeing him again. And now he was all hers. He loved her, and he wanted to be with her.
He’d left God for her.
She felt powerful, like some ancient temptress. But all of those ancient temptresses had been punished for their wickedness.
“Only if you want to.” He put his hands in his pockets, and he turned instantly from her lover to her friend again. “What’s wrong?”
She wasn’t sure she could sugarcoat it, even though her MO was sugarcoating things. “Are we going to be punished?” She took a step toward him; they were close enough to touch. “Is our being together wrong?”
Those were two questions that she really should have thought to ask herself before riding off into the sunset with him. Even if he wanted to go back, he couldn’t. She’d permanently altered his life, and only now was she worrying about her soul.
Every insidious voice that had ever told her that her most natural impulses were bad and wrong and needed to