Falling Into You (Falling 1)
Page 42“I’d win that competition, hands down. No question,” Colton says. “You had a moment of weakness, or something. I’m an ass**le all the time.”
“You’re wrong.” I shift up his body and meet his eyes from a couple inches away. Kissing distance. “It wasn’t a moment of weakness. It was a lot of moments of desire. And you’re not an ass**le.”
“What do you want, Nell?”
“I already asked you that question, remember?”
“So neither of us knows what we want?” His eyes search mine, and his hand inscribes circles on the small of my back.
“No. Yes. I know what I want, but I’m not sure if it’s right or wrong. I do know that how I went about getting it was wrong, though. So for that, I’m sorry.”
“So you’re saying you should’ve done what you did, but while I’m awake?” His palm continues to circle, but moves lower.
I arch my back subtly, but enough. He notices, and his eyes widen, his nostrils flare, his lips thin, his breathing goes deep.
“Yes,” I say.
I have to just own what I did, what I want. He was all too right when he said what I did changes things. I can’t go back now. I know how he feels in my hand. I know how his body feels beneath me, and I want more of it. I know how his hand feels on my ass. And I know he wants this as much as I do, and we’re both conflicted about it.
I meet his eyes and hold his gaze as he explores downward. I bite my lip when he begins up the swell of my ass. When I got in bed, I’d stripped off my jeans, so all I was wearing was a tiny yellow thong. A triangle of silk over my core, strings over my hips, a string down my crack. I took off my bra, too, so I only had on a tiny t-shirt, a fitted thing, blue cotton with a pocket over the right breast, a glittery purple heart on the pocket.
“I forgive you,” he says, an ever-so-subtle smirking tilt to the side of his mouth. “After all, it was a really awesome dream.”
He explores the line of the string between my cheeks. I’m holding my breath, and I can’t seem to catch it. He slides his palm up the other side, then back down, caressing my thigh, then the other. God. Oh god. Now up my spine, up my bare back, under the shirt. His fingers, his palm on my skin, tracing fire.
His fingers go between my arm and my rib, seeking access frontward. I shift my arm, slide my palm up his chest, hesitate at his shoulder, then do as I’ve wanted to do for so long, it seems, and scratch over the stubble on his jaw. This action gives him access, and he moves his hand around my ribs to brush the outside curve of my breast smashed against his chest.
“What are we doing here, Nell?” he asks, his voice his voice a raspy whisper.
I shake my head and lift one shoulder. “I have no idea. But I like it.”
“Me too.” He pulls me closer, higher. I go with him, shifting so I’m entirely on my side, head propped up on one hand, leg slung over his thighs, free hand on his breastbone.
Now I’m exposed. My shirt is hiked up so the undersides of my br**sts peek beneath the hem. I silently dare him, encourage him with my stillness, my steady gaze on his too-blue eyes.
Ohmigod. God. He takes the dare. Palm on my belly at first, I think he might go south, and I think he considers it, then moves up, north to the hem of my shirt. I was already holding my breath, but my throat gets tighter, my lungs burn, my heart either stops beating or pounds wildly, I can’t decide which.
Then his rough and gentle and huge hand cradles my breast beneath the shirt. I haven’t taken a breath in at least thirty seconds. Oh god, oh god, ohmigod. His hand feels so amazing. Scratchy, hard. My br**sts are fairly big, C-cups, almost a D, but he can palm one easily. His palm scrapes my nipple, and now my breath blasts in, rushing through me and making me dizzy.
“Colton…” I duck my head and bury my forehead on his shoulder.
I gulp. I nod. I bite my lip and look away.
“God, f**k me. Don’t do that,” he says, his voice ragged.
I’m puzzled. “Do what?”
“Bite your lip. It drives me wild. Bite your lip and it’s over. Your mouth is mine.” His voice is so rough, now, so raw and raspy it vibrates against me and sizzles deep in my core.
“Good to know,” I whisper.
He moves his hand away. “Decide now, Nell. All in, you’re mine, or we pretend this never happened.”
“I’m yours?” My voice is soft and tremulous.
“You asking? Or telling?”
“I—Colton, I couldn’t forget…but we—” I cut myself off, knowing I’m an incoherent mess.
Unconsciously, I bite my lip again, and Colton growls.
“Why does it make you so crazy?” I ask, playing for time.
Time for what, I don’t know. I know what I want. But now…with Colton becoming the direct and commanding person again, I’m shy, unsure, insecure, afraid. I’m all over the damn place. Molesting him in his sleep, then unable to jump in when he makes it clear he wants me like I do him. I’m a lunatic, clearly.
“I don’t know,” he says. “It’s just a thing. You bite your lip, and I want to take that lip into my mouth and suck on it like a popsicle. I want to lick your lips and bite them and kiss you until you’re f**king lost and gasping and puddled on the floor.”
Well…shit. I want that.
Nerves? Gone.
I feel my heart doing this weird thing, swelling, hammering, stuttering, aching, and I know I’ve decided.
I bite my lip, and it’s over.
“Fuck. You’re crazy, baby.” His voice is a feral snarl, spoken through clenched teeth.
I don’t even see him move. One second he’s over there, the next he’s slamming into me, lips crushing mine, and true to his word, he takes my lower lip into his mouth and sucks on it, tongues it. I’m jarred and shocked by the sudden violence of his kiss, and then I melt as he sucks on my lip. And then I’m pure liquid beneath him, because he’s abruptly gentle, taking my face in his hands, gazing at me with our lips barely touching, and then he kisses me slowly and so thoroughly, so deeply, I’m just…lost. His mouth moves on mine, claims me, steals my heart with his lips, takes my body with his mouth.