“There we go,” she said.
I glanced between her and the TV. “I’m all for indie flicks, but this feels like the Blair Witch Project.”
Her smile was sexy as hell. And apparently you have one thing on your mind. “It’s a GoPro with sound, and Landon is wearing it,” she answered. “He’s on our excursion so you don’t lose points. I gave our prof the note from the doc yesterday, and he’s giving you an excuse.”
That glow in my chest cranked up to nuclear level. This girl was amazing in ways I’d never be worthy of. “What about your grade?”
She shrugged. “I told him I’d guarantee that you’d watch, so he gave me the points, too.”
“But this is Rome, and you’re missing it.” For me. Because of me.
“It’s not going anywhere, is it? I can come back. Besides, logically speaking, if you fail, I miss the rest of my trip, so you can think of this as the payment for the next ports if you want to.”
I didn’t want to think about it at all. Liking her was one thing. Wanting her was a base, sexual need that I fully understood. But this feeling? I didn’t know what the hell to do with this.
She leaned over me to get to her coffee, and I stopped her mid-lean, putting my cup down next to hers. “You are incredible,” I told her.
“Same goes for you, Mr. X Games.”
I shook my head. “No, what I do is for me. For the fun, the victory, the hits, the records. But you…you’re…incredible,” I said again, my brain too fried to think of another word. “Can I—?”
“Yes,” she answered before I could finish.
Then my mouth was on hers, and all words were gone.
She tasted like her toothpaste and coffee, earth and mint and…mine. My fingers tightened at the base of her skull, woven into the thick strands of her hair. I kissed her with every ounce of skill I had, wanting—needing—this kiss to brand her the same way she was branding me, setting the standard way too high for anyone who tried to come along next.
No next. Just this one. Just now.
I slammed the door on those thoughts and concentrated on kissing Leah, on the tiny gasps she made after I kissed her deeply, licked every line inside her mouth. I wanted to mark all of her recesses and curves, make her feel as owned as she made me feel.
I used my other arm to guide her on top of me, and she straddled my lap, the thin material of her leggings nearly no barrier between my dick and her hot center. She rubbed against me, and a groan rumbled through my chest.
“Did I hurt you?” she asked, her voice raspy.
“Fuck, no,” I answered, pulling her back into my kiss.
She broke away. “Your ribs have to be killing you.”
I did a mental check. Ribs? No pain. Dick? Throbbing. “You’ll kill me if you stop.”
She gave me a slow smile and then lowered her mouth tantalizingly slow, first licking my lower lip and then gently tugging it with her teeth. “Leah,” I growled.
Then she gave me her mouth, and I fucking took it.
Every stroke of her tongue drove me higher; every time she moaned it shook me to the core. I’d never gotten so wound up from kissing someone before, especially someone who probably wasn’t ready for everything my body begged for. My hands gripped her waist, then her ass, loving the way she filled my hands, the way she moved against me when I squeezed gently.
She rubbed her breasts against my chest and suddenly I didn’t just want to get my mouth on her, I needed to. I needed to give her something for staying with me today when everyone else usually walked away when I was hurt.
I needed her to feel as good as she made me feel.
My hands worked their way up her ribs until my thumbs grazed the underwire of her bra. “Firecracker?” I asked.
She leaned up, crossed her arms in front of her and removed her top. “Yes.”
I nearly swallowed my tongue. I knew the shape of her breasts, hell, I’d caught myself looking way too often to be considered a good guy, but fuuuuuck. They were perfection, cupped in pink lace that was an equal mix of innocence and sexy that had my mouth watering.
I locked gazes with her, and she arched toward me. I closed my mouth over one hardened nipple, running my tongue over the lace. “Pax,” she gasped, her hands flying to my hair.
That was all it took for my control to unravel. I didn’t look away from her as I unclipped her bra, watching for the first sign of “no,” or even hesitation. Instead, she slipped the straps down her arms, and the bra joined her shirt on the floor.
“You are exquisite,” I said even before I glanced. I didn’t need eyes on her to know that she was sheer perfection.
“Quid pro quo?” she asked, tugging on my shirt.
I lifted my arms, and she slid it over my head, her breath catching in a way that made me feel like a god.
“May I?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said enthusiastically. This yes game was fucking awesome.
Her fingertips skimmed my chest, pausing on my various tats and leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “How many do you have?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. “Some pieces grew into others, some morphed into different ones.”
“Do they have meanings?”
“Some. Others I thought were beautiful, or were representative of what I was feeling at the time.”
She lingered on the dragon that wrapped around my heart and trailed down my abs. “This is beautiful.”