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He exhales loudly and kisses the top of my head again, and my god, I want him, want him to be what’s on the other side of being patient. Or beingapatient.

“There is always a way out,” he says. “Oh, Syd, sweetheart. If only you knew how much your words break me.”

Sweetheart?

I pull back enough to glance up at him. He stares down at me, his eyes glassy with emotion.

“You’re a good person,” he says, swallowing hard. My eyes are glued to his lips, a compulsion running through me, something heavy in my veins that feels pulled to him, iron to a magnet.

I can’t help myself.

I stand on my tiptoes.

And with the taste of my own tears, I kiss him.

CHAPTER 19

Kincaid kisses me back.

No hesitation.

Not even a little.

My lips press against his, my mouth parted slightly, and suddenly my whole world has been overturned. I melt into him, his lips soft yet hard, yielding to me for a moment before he lets out a whimper that resonates in my chest. It’s a sound of yearning finally fulfilled, of emotion that’s been trying to escape.

But that whimper swiftly turns into a throaty growl and he’s kissing me like he’s suddenly realized how ravenous he is, rough and commanding, taking what’s his. I give myself to him, knees weak, wanting to be eaten up like dessert on a platter, wanting to be used by him in whatever way he chooses, so long as I’m devoured whole.

I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours.

He grunts into my mouth, his tongue licking inside mine, as he holds me by the back of the neck again, so possessive and strong.

Take, take, take.

Please, please, please.

Pleasure curls inside me like smoke, my skin erupting in goosebumps as his scent fills my nose, and the taste of whisky on his silken tongue clouds my head. My thighs squeeze together, trying to soothe the ache that has always been there for him, that ache that infiltrates my dreams.

And yet this still feels like a dream, a heady hallucination. Everything about him is so hard and soft at the same time, the wet, silky quality of his tongue as it fucks my mouth, the hard press of his lips, the tight grip of his hand on my neck, the other hand now gripping my jaw as if he thinks I might escape.

I could never escape this. He is the undertow, his kiss pulling me down to my fate. Or maybe it’s my doom. It’s too hard to tell.

Suddenly he pulls back. It’s like an elastic band. I stare up at him, my body pressed against his, breathing hard. He’s gazing wildly at me, his pupils dilated, his eyes dark under the shadow of his brow. In them I see bewilderment, shame, and something that ripples with so much intensity that I can’t even recognize it.

“I can’t do this,” he says through a ragged inhale. “I can’t do this.”

“You’re doing it,” I tell him, my hand going to the small of his back and pressing him against me. His erection pushes into my thigh and I let out a gasp. Everything I dreamed is proving to be right.

“Fuck,” he grunts, and I grind against him, wanting more of those delicious sounds.

“Yes, fuck me,” I whisper, my hands going to his pants and trying to unbuckle the belt.

“Sydney,” he rasps, his head going back, leaving his neck exposed. I stand on my toes and lick his Adam’s apple, tasting of soap.

Another powerful grunt vibrates in his chest and I’m dropping to my knees, the rug soft on my bare skin.

“No, Syd,” he says roughly, his eyes blazing with desire as he stares at me. “Please, I don’t have the willpower.”

“That’s the idea,” I say sweetly as I gaze up at him, unbuttoning his dark jeans and sliding the zipper down slowly. The sound is like thunder in the quiet of the room.