“We aren’t over, Shelby,” Conor mutters darkly, eyes burning into mine. “We haven’t even begun.”
And then he kisses me.
Chapter Ten
IT’S LIT
Conor’s mouthslams down on mine — hard and hot and possessive.
At first, I’m so stunned I can’t do much more than hang on for dear life. It’s been so long since I’ve been kissed, I’ve almost forgotten how. But as his hands slide into my hair, as his chiseled body presses me into the wall, as his stubble scrapes against my cheeks and his lips move with mine…
A long-forgotten spark inside me flares to life.
It doesn’t take long for that spark to become a flame… for that flame to become a blaze… for that blaze to become an unstoppable inferno.
I am combustible,I think as I begin to return his kiss in earnest.I am burning up, burning out of control.
Who knew immolation would feel so damn good?
Leaning into Conor, my mouth opens beneath his to grant him access. Our tongues brush and he growls low in his throat, a thready sound of desire. Pent-up passion explodes between us. It’s a ravenous flood of lust, a fiery torrent of unleashed need so strong it threatens to drag me under.
If it does, I worry I’ll never find my way back to the surface.
I’m not sure how they get there, but suddenly my hands are around his neck, sliding up into his hair. I drag him closer, desperate to hang onto this feeling for as long as it lasts, to hold him in the circle of my arms for every possible second before we inevitably realize this is wrong, that it shouldn’t be happening, that we’ve crossed an unspoken boundary. Before we snap back to our senses and stop this madness and return to hating each other’s guts.
Except… the thing is…
It doesn’t feel like madness.
It doesn’t feel wrong.
It feelsright. So right, I can’t believe it took us this long to get here, to this moment — devouring each other with no regard for the rest of the world, without a single care about the case or the crazed men after us or even the small fact that we can’t stand each other.
He pins me harder against the wall, every delicious plane of his muscular chest pressing into mine through the fabric of my sweatshirt as he strokes his way down my body. When his fingers find the bottom hem, they slip beneath it. I can’t help the gasp that flies from my mouth when his hands hit the bare skin of my hipbones.
God, it’s been so long since I’ve been touched this way.
With desire and passion and need.
With big hands and rough fingertips.
I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams, like I might explode outward into a thousand pieces, my body unable to contain all the emotions firing through my nerve endings as his hands slide around to the small of my back. He tugs me closer, until we’re flush together, his mouth never breaking from mine.
The sensation is sinful. Criminal. So good it should be illegal.
Not that I’d really mind him breaking out the handcuffs, sometime…
Conor’s mouth drops to my neck. He’s kissing the sensitive hollow beneath my ear and my whole spine is arching with pleasure and things are really starting to get good when…
RIIING.
RIIIIIIIG.
RIIIIIIIIIIIG.
He groans as he rips his lips from my skin. Fishing his cellphone from his pocket with one hand, he glances at it with such annoyance, I half expect him to hurl it across the room. Before he has a chance, it rings again — flashing SYKES across the screen.
With a low curse, he lifts it to his ear. “Someone better be dying.”