The Rivals - Dylan Allen Page 0,170

really be happening. “Really?”

“I kind of pride myself on being in control … but I can’t control the way I feel about you.” He strokes the inside of my wrist and I shiver.

“You have feelings for me?” I croak, my throat is suddenly parched.

“I have since we met in the library.” His voice is deep, soft and yet his words boom inside my head.

“Me, too.” I say. My breaths are coming so fast that I feel dizzy.

“And all I want right now—even when I’m supposed to be apologizing and trying to do things the right way—is to know what your lips would feel like if I kissed you.”

I look down at our joined hands because I don’t trust my eyes not to show him how I’m feeling. I’m sure it would scare him. That blooming of happiness, the shifting of my vision from cloudy to rosy, accelerates, and I decide to take this offering and run with it. While I gather my courage, I trace the veins that crisscross the back of his large hand and count to five.

Then, I surprise myself with my own boldness. “Well, then, why don’t we kiss? Get that out of the way, and then you can finish apologizing.”

He smiles. His free hand slides up my arm, a trail of gooseflesh rises in its wake and by the time he reaches my shoulder, my entire body is vibrating.

“You are so beautiful, Kal. Every single part of you.” His eyes never leave mine and between the spell they’re casting and the heady sensation of his touch, it’s a wonder I haven’t melted in a puddle. He leans forward and presses his lips to my forehead.

“This mind that is so curious and full. I could talk to you forever and never get tired of it.”

He kisses my cheeks.

“Those dimples that tell me when you’re laughing because you think it’s funny or because you don’t want to hurt my feelings and tell me how lame my joke is.”

I giggle at that because as much as I bust his chops, there are times when I do laugh when it’s not really that funny. “You’re so sensitive I don’t want to hurt your feelings…” I stroke his hand.

“I’m not sensitive, but fuck if you’re not so damn sweet.”

“No, I’m not, Remi.”

“I think you are.” He leans forward and I close my eyes. He drops a kiss on my eyelids. “These eyes that see things most of us miss and are the windows to every single one of your thoughts.” He presses our foreheads together. “I’m sorry I put hurt there tonight.”

My heart races so hard but I can’t speak, my throat is clogged with emotion. No one has ever spoken to me like this.

“And these lips, that fucking freckle. They’re a work of art and I’m a little scared of what will happen when I finally kiss—”

I lean forward and press my mouth to his. His lips are beautiful, too. They’ve got a deep bow on the top and are full and lush on the bottom and I’ve been dreaming about kissing them.

He groans and cups my face with both hands, holds me there and kisses me like no one has and I suspect no one will again. I’ve imagined this. I’ve dreamed of it. I thought I knew what it would feel like. But this… Remi’s kiss… It feels like coming home and going on an adventure all at once. Safe and reckless. Weightless, but so firmly rooted to this moment. And when he runs his tongue over my lips, I open for him.

“So fucking perfect,” he murmurs before his warm tongue slides into my mouth. I moan and slide closer to him until I’m nearly in his lap. I clutch at the front of his shirt and hold on while his mouth shows mine what a kiss is supposed to feel like.

Behind my eyes, a million points of brilliant light explode, and I hurtle through time, space, and at the same time, I remain grounded, held in place by the gravity of his kiss. It’s not my first one, but it’s the first I’ve felt all the way to my toes. And I know, I will never forget it.

His hands grab my waist and he lifts me up and puts me down so I’m straddling him. And the kiss changes. It’s feverish, my hands go from clutching to tugging, his hips ruck up into me, his erection presses against the softest, hottest part of me and I start