Page 52 of Our Darkest Summer

His words were ghosts against my cheek, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

I tried to steady my breathing, but I failed.

What was I doing?What was he doing?

Thomas cocked his head, his gaze never leaving mine, as I slowly let myself sink back into his bed, my legs parting on their own accord. My heart pounded, so loud, so frantic, I feared he might hear it.

His eyes darkened. He hovered over me, close enough that the heat from his body melted into mine.

His lips brushed against mine, feather-light like a tease, cruel in its softness. I wanted him to taste me with the same hunger he did last night. A small sound—half sigh, half something more sinful—nearly slipped past my lips, but I bit it back.

Thomas smirked, revealing his dimples.

“Are you sure?” His voice was raspy, thick. His hands gripped my hips, lifting me, sliding a pillow beneath my back.

I wet my lips, the words rolling off them easier than they should’ve. “I’m sure.”

And that was all he needed. His dark eyes never left mine as he lowered himself between my parted thighs. I had had men kneeling between my legs before. But never like this.

Never him.

My heart stuttered at the sight, at the slow way he caressed the inside of my thighs, his fingertips worshipping the skin there. My breath hitched as he pressed a kiss over the sensitive prints of his touch, then slowly, he peeled my pajama shorts down my legs. The cool air brushed against my already pulsing heat, but his hands, his mouth, were hotter.

He hooked a finger into the edge of my panties, tugging them aside. His lips parted slightly, his gaze hungry, corrupted with something dark.

I should’ve been self-conscious, but I wasn’t. Because it was him. Thomas parted my legs wider, and I melted into the pillow. His mouth kissed and bit his way up my thighs, stopping so close to where I needed him. I gripped his hair tighter, the tension in my stomach coiling sharper.

His finger slid between my folds, and I gasped when his thumb circled my clit, teasing. His tongue was hot, devastating. He took his time, tasting me, teasing me, playing me like a song only he knew the chords to. I arched into his mouth, my fingers fisting his curls.

He sucked, and my body trembled. One of his hands found my breast, cupping me over my pajama top, pinching my nipple between his fingers. A whimper broke free of my lips, and he groaned. A deep, low sound that sent vibrations through my core.

“Thomas,” I breathed his name, tangled in pleasure.

His pace increased, his tongue and fingers moved in perfect balance as he held me in place. I was seconds away from bursting into flames when my body arched again, stiffening, and I felt the air leave my lungs.

“I’m going to?—”

I gasped, arching off the bed as the pleasure slammed into me. Thomas’ tongue, his fingers, his touch?—

He was destruction and salvation.

My thighs clenched around his head, my body erupting. My muscles tighten around him, warmth flooding over every inch of my body. I blinked, trying to clear my vision as I gazed down at him. He was resting on his elbows between my legs, his cheeks flushed. His dark eyes locked onto mine as he slowly pulled his fingers out of me, and sucked every last drop of me off them. And then?—

I woke.

This time, for real.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Kinsley

The post officedidn’t bring any new leads, but it at least confirmed our theory of the letter being hand delivered to New York. Whoever had sent it made sure to cover their trail.

Now the three of us—Connor, Thomas and me—stood in front of the townhouse Kevin’s family lived in. Apparently, his father was only coming back later that night, so after breakfast, we drove into town. I looked up at the dark green front door just when it opened, and Kevin appeared on the other side.

“Right on time.” He grinned, and Connor quickly readjusted his pastel-yellow T-shirt, his neck reddening.

“The hearts are showing in your eyes.” I elbowed him, and he stiffened.