My lips fused to his, fervently kissing him as though the force of my kiss could eradicate the demons tormenting him. I caught him by surprise, but it only took a second for him to catch up. He gripped the back of my head, holding me to him (as if I would leave) then used his other arm to pull me into his lap.
His lips lit me up; it felt like I was sparkling with electricity. He’d never allowed himself to kiss me with such wild abandon. I was alarmed by his passion—alarmed and thrilled! I also allowed my passion to flow through my veins unchecked, a torrent of lovesick emotions. We were intertwined and kissing as though the end of the world was outside our doors.
I was lost in his arms, in our kiss. Lost in time and space. On a whole different planet. Every fiber of my being was pulled toward him. We were a tangle of limbs—one of his hands gripped my waist, the other digging into my hair, one of mine splayed across his back, my other clasped around his neck. Hooking one leg sinuously around me, he flipped me over. And the unbearably delicious weight of his body released a pleasure sigh from my chest.
He wrenched his lips from mine, staring into my eyes with eyes clouded with desire. He whispered something idly down at me, “Mmmm . . . best part of the job” was what I thought he said before molding his lips back to mine. And then I couldn’t process anything further, reveling in the feel and thrill of him. It was all encompassing, the sensations washing over me—the roaring in my ears, the thundering in my chest, the swirling in my stomach.
He unfastened his lips to go exploring. I started a protest, then quickly changed my tune as his warm mouth cupped my neck, blazing a trail into unchartered territory. Approval hummed from my throat. His clever hand wandered over to my stomach, where lazy fingertips trailed beneath my shirt till I was quivering beneath him. He stopped nuzzling my neck to stare at my flushed face and passion-drugged eyes. I could barely focus, was completely gone . . . as drunk as he was. High on pheromones. Over the edge of reason. A sweet smile of satisfaction on his lips, he teased mine back open to kiss me within an inch of my life.
Oh. My. God! I dug insistent fingers into his back, pleading. For what? . . . I wasn’t sure. I was writhing and panting. Wanting. As he gripped me to him in a delicious grind, my mind reeled with possibilities, new erotic sensations, and conflicting emotions. The intensity was suddenly too much for me.
“Pete—” I cried, a little unsure edge to my voice.
A glance to my face, and he shifted off me. I immediately clamored for him back, but he simply brushed his lips back and forth across mine, teasing now. I squirmed beneath him, impatiently urging him on in a vain attempt at . . . something. Something I always thought I wanted to wait for marriage for, and was suddenly having a hard time remembering why.
“Kate,” he whispered my name, which was a good thing because I could barely remember what it was. He grasped my face between his hands, kissing me so deeply I was thrumming with desire. “Mmmm . . . Kate,” he moaned as if he couldn’t get enough of me.
When I heard my name escape his lips again in passion, a feeling of pure bliss bubbled up inside of me. “Pete . . .” I broke off the kiss to let the words I’d been holding in for weeks spill out.
He growled at me from deep within his throat before continuing south for his onslaught of pleasure.
“Pete.” I lifted his head, needing eye contact for this. He reluctantly wrenched his mouth from the valley between my breasts. I just realized two buttons were undone . . . and couldn’t recall how that was done.
“What?” he breathed, a kiss of sweet whisky on his breath. I mentally thanked the fire-whisky gods for precipitating his loss of control tonight. This right now . . . this was heaven on earth.
“I . . .” Instantly felt shy and exposed as an open diary but I was determined to let him know where I stood.
He filled the pause by kissing the hollow of my throat, trailing his lips past the point of my cross. And I almost couldn’t stop him from continuing his slow torture on my love-starved body. But some kind of insistent voice persisted. I needed to say this before we went any further. I needed to know he felt the same way. If we were in love (which I firmly believed we were), then surely, surely this couldn’t be wrong. Right? Needing reassurance, I palmed his southbound face back up to mine.
He growled his protest but obliged, peeking at me from beneath lazy lashes. He looked befuddled and love-drunk; a sloppy smile adorably split his face that caused my heart do a summersault. Skimming his nose down the side of mine, he said, “What’s on your mind, Kate? . . . ‘sides drivin’ me crazy.”
He stared at me, indulging me in my moment to slow down in the midst of this madness we had created together. And his patience made my heart burst at the seams with the force of my feelings. Looking deeply into his eyes, I swallowed then just put it out there.
“Pete . . . I love you.”
I felt his reaction before it registered on his face. It was a slight stiffening of his body. Followed by a slipping of the sloppy smile. Then the soft, dewy eyes staring into mine closed.
Oh God. The emotion misting my eyes suddenly turned into a lid full of tears as realization crashed over me. Like a tidal wave of melted ice. He doesn’t feel the same way.
Realization, that realization had registered on me, registered on him. “Kate. God. I’m sorry. I—”
I didn’t wait for him to finish before I was shoving him off me. “It’s fine.” My voice was brittle as Popsicle sticks left in the sun. “It’s good to know where you stand.” I hastily did that very thing now, yanking my shirt back down. Could not believe what I was about to let happen. What I had already let happen . . . and with a known liar and con artist. An enemy. I was shaking. My fingers could barely redo the buttons.
Of course, he doesn’t love you! You little fool! I mentally cursed.
Pete’s curse was out loud. “Kate—” He grabbed my arm, but I jerked away from him.
“Tell me somethin’, Pete . . .” It was hard to speak; my throat felt swollen and hurt as if I’d just swallowed something I was deathly allergic to. “Why?” I croaked. “I mean if you were only after a piece of ass”—he flinched at my words—“you could’ve had any number of girls at your disposal.”
My brain had finally unfogged enough to process what he’d said minutes ago: “Best part of the job.” I was nothin’ but a J-O-B. My stomach twisted. “But no. You wooed me,” I spat his words back at him. “Courted me. Why? You knew no matter how I felt about you,”—an angry flush at the admission—“I’d never stop fightin’ for Andrew. So what was the point of hurtin’ me?”
Pete looked weary again, defeated even. The pull I always felt for him started again. I longed to smooth that miserable furrow from his brow even as my heart was breaking into a thousand pieces. Shoulders hunched he leaned forward, hanging his guilty head between his legs. Both hands clasped the back of his head. His eyes were open, staring as though mesmerized by the pattern of brown rectangles on the floor.
After a full minute of dead quiet, his head jerked back up. “Kate, do you really love me?” Pride didn’t let me answer, so I merely shrugged, my eyes glistening with the sting of unrequited love. His face melted. “Do something for me.”