Page 11 of Ready or Not (The Nape #I)

Sideways by Cleo Soul playing in the background, his hand found the back of my neck as he brought my face to his.

His lips brushed against mine like a question first, then, without warning, he searched for the answer on his own.

Tongue mingling with my own, the taste of him was warm and intoxicating, like cinnamon and buttered rum tea on a cold night.

The world around us blurred into nothing but the rhythm of our breath.

His hands caressed every inch of my waist, fingers digging in possessively, and I surrendered without resistance.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned into my mouth once my fingers found the nape of his neck, my nails drawing soft, deliberate patterns against his skin.

Pulling me closer to him as if it was possible, his hands slid to my butt and he lifted me effortlessly without breaking the kiss.

I gasped against his lips, my legs wrapping around him as he moved towards the couch.

Once settled onto the cushions with me on his lap, he pulled away.

His eyes burned into mine, dark and heavy.

My chest rose and fell erratically as I tried to catch my breath, my heart pounding like a war drum.

I felt his dick print press against me through the barrier of our clothes as he took a deep, uneven breath.

His lips, slightly parted, curved into the faintest smirk as he squeezed my waist.

“Why’d you stop?” I whispered. Some part of me was embarrassed by how desperate I sounded, but the larger part didn’t care. Not when his thumb was brushing against my bottom lip, his gaze alternating between my mouth and my eyes like he couldn’t decide which temptation was greater.

“‘Cause I needa look at you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. His thumb lingered on my lip for a moment longer before trailing down my chin, his touch igniting sparks that traveled through every nerve in my body. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this.”

The words melted any remaining resolve I had, making my breath hitch as my cheeks flushed.

I didn’t know what to say to that—what could I say?

Instead of fumbling for words, my fingers sneaked into his hair, tugging slightly, and it earned me a sharp intake of breath from him. That sound—sharp, needy, vulnerable—sent a jolt straight through me, pooling heat low in my belly.

“You don’t play fair,” I managed to whisper, though my voice was unsteady. “You haven’t played fair all night.”

“Oh word?”

“Word,” I shot back.

His smirk widened, a dangerous curve that promised he knew exactly the effect he had on me. “I never said I wanted to.”

His hands slid under the shirt, palms skimming over my sides before settling high on my ribs, his thumbs brushing just under the curve of my breasts.

His eyes searching mine, he didn’t move further, however, just lingered there.

My body decided before my mind could, I tried leaning into him to continue the kiss, but he stopped me with a gentle, teasing pressure against my hip.

“Uh-uh,” he murmured, his voice a velvet rasp that made my stomach flutter. “Not yet.”

“Why?”

“I wanna have your consent before I…” his voice trailed off. His hands stayed steady as his eyes scanned my face. “We just met hours ago and...”

I nodded. “We did.”

“I don’t wanna rush you,” he exhaled. “It doesn’t mean I don’t want you—hell, it couldn’t be clearer how much I do—but I wanna know... I needa know you’re good with this.”

My chest constricted at his words, his vulnerability carving a space in my heart I wasn’t ready to admit existed.

Desi was unlike anyone I’d met before.

Though he was the first man I’ve gone another date with outside of my ex, his hesitation reminded me of a care I hadn’t known I longed for. Everything about this man was pure intention—something I craved yet never got the opportunity to experience.

He paid attention to the little things, he valued my opinions all the while… And now, here he was, with me sitting on his lap, waiting for an answer. He could’ve easily kept going, peeling away my resolve like the layers of an onion, but he didn’t.

Instead, he chose to ask, to reassure me that my choice mattered.

This was the kind of conscientiousness that made my heart ache in the best way.

Boy, was I falling… hard.

Because how could I not fall for someone like him? Someone who looked at me like I was the only woman in the world and treated me with so much respect and patience I didn’t know I was capable of receiving.

However, I had to remind myself that I had no clue where the night would end.

It didn’t matter how much I felt myself slipping into him, I was still faced with the unknown.

Desi was here now—yes—but he wasn’t forever.

Not when we haven’t even discussed how we plan to move forward from tonight.

Not when I had no idea what he really wanted from this, or if he even thought there was a future for us beyond this fleeting, magnetic connection.

For all I knew, this could just be a perfect moment in an imperfect world—one of those memories you hold onto when the nights are too quiet and too long.

So I had to accept tonight as a live-in-the-moment kind of thing. I wasn’t going to ruin it by asking what might come next.

That would be a worry for when our time ended.

His voice broke through my thoughts. “What’re you thinking?”

I bit my lip, however, he removed one of his hands from under my shirt, using his thumb to gently tug my lip free before it went back to its resting place.

“Don’t do that. I want to know what you’re thinking,” he urged. “If you’re not okay with this, we can stop?—”

“I’m good,” I said softly, my fingers still tangled gently in his hair. “I want this, too.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah…”

His exhale trembled against my cheek, and for a brief moment, his eyes closed as though he was trying to absorb my reply. When he opened them again, they were darker somehow, deeper, like whatever restraint he had been holding onto had loosened its grip.

“Good,” he rasped, planting a quick kiss on my lips before pulling away to stare at me. “I need you to tell me if it ever changes.”

I ignored the way my heart hammered against my ribcage, leaning in again to brush my lips against his, but he shook his head.

“Promise me, Solène,” he whispered my name like a prayer, and it sent a shiver down my spine. “Promise me you’ll tell me if it ever becomes too much.”

“I promise.”

“Okay then,” he murmured, his lips curling into a faint smile as his thumb traced slow circles against my waist. “Then let me take my time with you.”