Page 66 of Silas

His tongue licks across my lower lip, and then the upper, and then slashes across my tongue, and I taste him and that expansive thrill crushes outward within me, detonating, superheating me from within until my whole being is afire, turning my insides molten.

I moan into his kiss.

At the sound of my moan, that thick, iron-hard ridge pressing against my core jumps, hardening and growing thicker. His hand strays from my hip, and I gasp into his hot hungry mouth with anticipation as his touch moves to my backside. He cups me, grips me, caresses me.

He spends a moment there on my bottom, and then his touch skates up under my shirt, finding my skin. His hand is hot, his calluses deliciously rough.

Up under my shirt, traveling the length of my spine, over my bra strap to one shoulder and then back across to the other. The feel of his hand on my bare skin steals my breath from my lungs, makes my heart pound all the harder.

I gasp into his mouth as his hand caresses downward once more to my waist. I palm his face in both of my hands and I open my mouth wider, tilting my face in another direction and welcoming his tongue into my mouth with a soft pleased moan.

I don’t know what this is, what I’m feeling, what he’s doing to me, why it feels like I’m alive for the first time in my life.

All I know is, I don’t want it to end.

I wiggle higher up his body, still cradling his handsome, rugged face in my hands. I dare my tongue out against his, tentative and hesitant, and the explosion of sensation at the taste of his tongue on mine is intoxicating, making me dizzy and faint and wild. I moan again, a low, soft breath of a sound. He growls in response, the hunger of his kiss expanding, growing, until he’s devouring me with his lips, sucking my tongue into his mouth and swirling his tongue against mine. Both of his hands slide down my sides, my back. Come to rest on my bottom, just for a moment. And then he grips my thighs, squeezing, kneading…he growls again and his hands push upward. Under my denim skirt, and then he’s cupping my bottom over the barely-there fabric of my panties.

Oh god, oh god.

I’ve never been touched so…reverently. So gently. With such desire.

That hard bulge of his hardens yet more, thickening and lengthening impossibly more against me.

I affect him that way? Me?

Thoughts vanish, banished by his mouth, his tongue, his hands.

He cups my bottom possessively, and then softens his touch to a tender, exploratory caress, tracing the outline of the globes with his fingers, then lifting the heft of them upward, releasing, and smoothing back down. I feel as much as hear him rumble another snarl from his chest.

The molten sea boiling in my belly and chest expands at the sound of his growl, and the wild hungry delicacy of his hands on my backside pushes that heavy heat downward, down between my thighs, to my tender, sensitive core.

My body has taken over control of the rest of me. I am utterly awash with a barrage of unfamiliar sensations and emotions. I can’t name them all, can’t parse their differences. They all equal out to one thing, though:

DON’T STOP.

MORE.

My thighs slide apart so I’m cradling his hips between them and my skirt rides up so I feel the wash of air over my skin. I feel him thick and hard against me, against my core, against a secret, unknown part of me that throbs with the heat boiling through me, molten and white-hot and demanding more, more,more.

I don’t know what I’m doing, but he does—my body does. His head twists one way, mine the other, and our tongues tangle and soar together. My shirt has rolled up beneath my breasts, baring my belly to his; the heat of his flesh sears into me, making my gut churn, making the heat between my thighs pulse hotter. I squirm against him, writhing, unable to stop myself. Truth be told, I don’t try.

I like this. I want this. I like feeling this way with Silas.

He growls, breaking the kiss. “Naomi…”

“Silas,” I breathe. “Please.”

He palms my face, tilting me so our eyes meet. “Shit, I’m sorry.” He shakes his head. “I’m so sorry. I…I shouldn’t have…I got carried away.”

I flatten my palm over his mouth, silencing him. “Please don’t apologize, Silas. I…” I rest my forehead against his, panting as the driving, relentless desire for more of whatever it is he’s doing to me rolls through me. “I…Ilikeit.”

“Fuck, Naomi. Don’t say that shit to me.”

Confusion splashes through me. “What? Why not?”

“Because…because I fuckingwantyou. I don’t want to stop. I don’t know how to stop.”

“I don’t know what…” I shake my head, embarrassed to admit the truth. “I’ve never felt the way you make me feel. I’ve never…never been kissed. Not like that. I…” I seek courage in the warmth of his breath on my cheek, the strength of his hands on my waist. “I don’t want to stop. I want…I don’t know what I want, Silas. Just that the way you were touching me, the way you were kissing me…”