We held hands without thinking about it. Shared a few small kisses when no one was looking, and once or twice when they were. Nothing wild. Just enough to keep the truth humming between us.
I was careful with it, though.
Not because I didn’t want more. I did.
But since I didn’t want her to think this was the only reason I’d offered to be her “boyfriend,” I didn’t want our story to become nothing but heat.
By the time we finally headed back to Ky’s place and went upstairs, we were both sun-tired and happy.
But even though we’d kept things lighthearted and flirty most of the day, the second we stepped into our room and closed the door, Nora slid her palms up my chest, her fingers curling into my shirt, before kissing me like she’d been waiting all day just to get me alone.
And since I’d been counting down the hours until bedtimemyself, I backed her up against the wall and kissed her like I’d been starving.
She made a small, pleased sound against my lips, and when her fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of my neck, her nails grazing my scalp, the last of my self-control cracked.
We kissed deeply, mouths open, tongues meeting, the kind of kiss that made the room fall away.
But when the height difference started working against us, I hooked my hands under her thighs and lifted her.
Nora’s breath hitched as she wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me in tight.
“Just so you know,” she breathed against my mouth. “I’ve been thinking about doing this very thing all day.”
Which only did me in more.
Her nails scraped lightly at the back of my head, and my knees almost gave out.
“That feels too good,” I said, my mouth still on hers.
When she did it again, dragging her fingers down the back of my neck and across my shoulders, a low groan tore out of me.
And while I probably should’ve felt self-conscious for being so open with my reactions, somehow, I didn’t. Because I was with her.
I tightened my grip and carried her a few steps, still kissing her as I set her down on the edge of the dresser.
And after that, the room and time blurred.
We kissed, with her on the dresser. Then on the bench at the edge of the bed. Every kiss growing deeper and deeper. Our mouths hungry, our hands roaming like we needed to learn everything there was to know.
When we finally came up for air, we were tangled on the bed. My shirt was long gone at that point, and her swimsuit was the only thing left between my hands and the skin I’d been trying not to think about touching all day.
I looked at her, at the yellow top with the little blue flowers stretched over her, the matching bottoms riding low on her hips, her stomach toned and sun-warmed. She was so beautiful. Amazingly so.
My palm slid up her torso, slow enough that I could pretend I was still in control. When my fingers skimmed her hipbone and she shifted to invite me closer, my heartbeat ramped up even harder.
Was she really okay with the direction we were headed?
I lifted my gaze to hers, half a question sitting on my tongue.
But instead of answering with her words, she answered with her eyes, bright and heated, like she was handing me the steering wheel.
So I lowered my mouth to her stomach.
I kissed her once. Then twice—heat pooling low as I kissed my way down. And when she arched into my touch with a sound that went straight through me, I lost whatever thread of caution I’d been clinging to.
Nora caught my face and pulled me back to her, and the second our mouths met again, my head went silent.
Her tongue slid against mine.