"He'd say yes. Without hesitation."
The answer makes my heart somersault. "So you're saying fictional Sawyer has none of the honor issues real Sawyer does. Too bad real Sawyer doesn't -"
He kisses me lightly, enough to shut me up.
"I'm saying, let's skip the coffee and go upstairs," he whispers. "Unless you want to keep playing this game."
No part of me wants to. I press my lips to his in response, emotions I've never experienced working their way through my system. Sawyer deepens the kiss leisurely, and I lean into him, my body burning too badly for him for me to try and play it cool.
He pulls away. "Come on." Drawing me up, he leads me through the house to the third floor and my room. I follow in a daze, hardly daring to believe this is really happening and so aroused, if it doesn't, I might die.
We make it to my room, and he tugs me into his arms, his lips claiming mine once more. Mine part, and his tongue slides in to taste me while I deepen the kiss to get a taste of him. Cocoa and mint, light and dark, sweet and heady. His taste is intoxicating, complicated, like he is. Despite the need I know he feels, he takes his time, exploring my mouth while his hands run down my body, over my clothes.
His mouth, the thick arousal pressed to my lower belly and the firmness of his touch convey how hot his hunger for me is. My body is fevered, the ache at my core almost too strong to tolerate.
But still he is patient, the opposite of me even here, relishing each second while I push him for more.
The sense I had about him soon after meeting, that he's not the kind of guy you walk away from, is pounding into the back of my mind, warning me this isn't a fling.
This is something much more already, something so deep and primal, it almost scares me. We barely walked away from one another the last time we kissed. This time, we won't. If his kiss stayed with me for months, made me look at every potential date I met differently, what will sleeping with him do?
I'll never want anyone else.
My hands slide up his sweater and over the warm skin of his chiseled his abs and chest. He's solid, hard, strong.
He breaks off the kiss to tug off his shirt then presses his mouth to mine again. I let my hands roam his upper body, amazed and enthralled by the shapely muscles and his strength. His scent is stronger without his shirt, a mix of coconut and man, as complicated and consuming as his flavor.