Page 71 of Wicked Little Darling

What could I say that would make him smile? Or laugh?

Before I could try and think of anything, Reese inhaled sharply, his face scrunching in a pained expression, and he reached up to rub his forehead.

“What’s wrong?” I raised my hand to feel his forehead, but he brushed it aside.

“I’m fine, I just have a headache.” He let out a long breath, then turned fully toward me and said, “Look, Dakota, I?—”

I moved closer.

He was about to shut me down, tell me off, push me away again and I didn’t want that. I couldn’t let that happen.

He looked up at me and raised a brow, but didn’t move away. There was a challenge in his eyes, something almost playful that sucked me right in. A light warmth spread through my limbs as I held his gaze, drinking in those mischievous eyes.

“Can I say something first?” I asked, stepping toward him. He moved back, his heel hitting the washer.

“What?” His teeth scraped against his bottom lip, digging in so hard the pink turned white.

I set one hand beside him on the washing machine and leaned closer. He didn’t push me away, didn’t do anything but stare up at me with eyes that were a deep, burnished green ringed with gold. He still didn’t push me away when I lowered my head and brought my lips to his ear, brushing against his hair as I spoke. “Were you dreaming about me?”

Reese’s entire body shuddered against the machine, his exhale shaky near my ear. I closed my eyes and inhaled his sweet scent, then brushed the tip of my nose down his neck. His hands flew to the front of my shirt, fisting the material.

“Dakota,” he said breathily, voice shaking.

“Mm,” I hummed against his skin. I wanted to taste him, so I slid my tongue out and licked a small line up his throat. He moaned so loudly it echoed through the entire room, then dropped his forehead to my chest, the fingers that were clutching my shirt trembling.

The sound of his moan filled my entire body with heat, and the need to get him to do that a thousand more times rose swiftly and urgently.

“Can I tell you a secret?” I murmured.

“Dakota,” he said again, this time a whisper. I wasn’t sure if he was asking for something, begging for things I had no idea how to give him, but the desperation dripping from that one word—my name—almost sent me into a frenzy.

I wanted him to say my name over and over again. To hear all the different ways he could say it.

I took one hand off the washer and slid it up the back of his neck, into his hair, then through the silky strands and tugged gently until his head was tilted back enough that I could look into his eyes.

My cock throbbed at the look on his face; his hooded eyes and parted lips, cheeks flushed a dark red.

He looked so damn beautiful it twisted my stomach into knots. He let me hold him, fingers flexing in my shirt as he stared into my eyes.

“I dream about you, too, Reese. Every single night,” I told him.

Reese’s expression turned fierce, and he shoved me back into the wall behind me, pressing himself against me to hold me there. “Liar,” he growled. His eyes flashed down to my lips, then quickly back to mine as he gripped my shirt. “Stop making fun of me.”

A spark of annoyance flashed through me, and I framed his face with my hands. “This is the last time I’m gonna say this, so listen closely,” I said, holding his gaze. “I’m not fucking with you or making fun of you. I’m very, very serious.”

His eyes shone brightly under the fluorescents as he stared into mine, and he didn’t say a word. I brushed my thumb across his cheekbone and kept going. “Do you want me to tell you what I dream about? Do you want me to show you?”

“No,” he whispered roughly. And yet, his eyes locked onto my lips and stayed there, a hungry, dazed expression transforming his face into something raw, primal, and provocative.

Every one of my nerve endings was on fire, my balls tightening as the most destructive heat snaked through me. I was trembling just as much as he was, and I wasn’t sure which one of us was falling apart faster.

I’d never had sex before, had never met anyone I’d gotten close to enough to want it, but I wanted it right here, right now with Reese. I wanted him to throw me to the ground and straddle me, to take everything he wanted.

Because he was staring at my lips, I licked them and asked, “Can I kiss you?” I was hoping with every desperate fiber of mybeing that he would say yes. That he would close the distance between us and press that mean little lying mouth to mine.

Reese said nothing at all, just kept his eyes on my lips and ignored my words. I brushed my thumbs near the corners of his eyes and leaned down. He didn’t pull away, so I moved closer until I could feel his short, sharp pants against my lips. His ragged breaths were all I could hear, the washing machine just a distant hum.

“Reese,” I whispered. “Can I kiss you? Please?”