Our faces mere inches apart, she closed the gap, again pressing her lips to mine. This time, though, instead of the slightest brushing of skin to skin, she pushed forward so more of her was up against more of me.
Any resistance to her evaporating like steam into the atmosphere, I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close. Deepening the kiss so that I tasted some sweet flavor on her lips—watermelon?—I tugged her top lip into my mouth, suckling it. Not willing to stop there, I flicked out the end of my tongue until it touched hers.
She moaned, the sound of it inciting me to go further. I took in the rest of her reactions. The flush to her fair skin. The vein in her neck giving away her now rapid pulse. The way her breaths flowed in and out of her in a rush. How her eyes changed, going from that dazzling emerald to something far darker before they fluttered shut.
Her responsiveness enthralled me, so I touched that pulse point at her collarbone as I tasted a tender spot beneath her ear. Wanting to test if her heartbeat matched, I reached my other hand around to the front of her and laid it over her heart. Once I’d confirmed that it did, I edged my palm over enough to caress her breast through her shirt.
The nipple reacted, becoming a hard little peak, and needing to feel more of her, I moved to unfasten her bra. I’d just gotten it unclasped when she put both her hands in the middle of my chest and gave me a tiny shove. I was so caught up in the moment that this barely registered, and I’d yanked her shirt halfway up her torso before she raised her voice.
“Marco… Stop!”
In a lust-driven daze, I made myself draw back
, returning bit by bit to reality. My body throbbed with need, but she’d said stop, and I’d never do anything to a woman against her will.
I just wasn’t used to having her bring everything to a screeching halt in the middle like that.
“You all right?” I asked her, feeling strained and trying my damnedest to rein myself back in.
“I…” She seemed tremendously flustered as she seized the bottom of her t-shirt and adjusted it back into place. “I don’t know what just happened.”
“You kissed me,” I answered, not able to keep from grinning at her.
“And… and then you…”
“I kissed you back.”
9
Kelly
“That was way more than kissing me back,” I told him, even while he grinned at me like a cat who ate a canary. I bunched my long hair together and brought it to the side over my right shoulder. I was still attempting to collect my thoughts and all the wayward nerve endings making me tingle from top to bottom, from left to right, and everywhere in between.
From our first day together, a link had been forged between Marco and me, and it felt different than the connection I had with anyone else. It had stayed mostly in the background, like the hum of an air conditioner, something you could almost ignore yet was always there. But because of what had just happened between us, that hum had become louder and more powerful.
There was no way I could ignore it now.
Never in my life had I been touched like that. It’d felt like my body had gone up in flames. And Marco didn’t seem remorseful in the least. Of course, I’m the one who started this, so why should he be the one to feel remorse? But maybe remorse wasn’t the best term. Intoxicated might be better. Or astounded. Or even lightheaded.
If that had been a kiss, what had my former boyfriend been doing? What Marco had done had involved no slobbering, no awkwardness. It hadn’t repelled me in any way. Instead, it’d felt so delicious it’d made me nearly jump in his lap and grind up against him, and I’d never reacted like that in my entire life.
I’d never even considered it before. All these sensations raced through me like river rapids, and I didn’t know what to do with them. My heart was pounding so hard in my chest that I couldn’t count the beats, and as I shifted, I noticed my panties felt damp.
This moment with Marco had been electrifying. Rapturous, even. But it’d also scared me half to death.
It still did.
This whole thing had probably happened because I could not seem to make myself quit thinking about him. We’d been working together side by side for several weeks, and there’d been so many times I’d caught myself admiring him. He’d taken charge of the restaurant as if he’d done it a thousand times, hiring more staff and making small changes that increased efficiency.
He trained me as his manager with that direct manner he had, the force of his personality commanding but not intimidating. At least not with me. Still, I could tell that this business venture mattered a lot to him. I saw it in the stiff set of his shoulders or how his fists would clench and unclench when even the littlest of things went wrong. He worried about things, stressed about them.
It was something we had in common.
He had this quietness about him that was more effective as a management style than anything I’d ever witnessed. Oftentimes, he’d correct someone by simply sending them a narrowed look. It was that intense thing he had going on. Marco Varasso often spoke volumes without saying a single word.
When I’d first become a waitress, I’d been given next to no training. I’d been an inexperienced teenager, and it’d felt like being thrown to the wolves. It was either sink, swim, or get your head chewed off.
Get out there and take their orders, don’t mess them up, and don’t dare forget anything. And dropping a tray? That was forbidden. I’d only done it once, totally by accident during my first week, but the manager on duty had yelled at me so viciously I’d had to hurry to the restroom so I could weep in private.