And I did something I’d never done before.
A twenty-one-year-old guy, who cursed his own species and swore an oath of celibacy to avoid the agony of broken love, chose that moment to condemn himself.
I blamed the concussion.
I blamed the sun and meadow and Hope.
Oh, I blamed Hope.
Definitely, definitely Hope.
This was her fault.
All of this.
Especially this.
This.
Kiss.
I swooped up before I could change my mind.
Our lips smashed together.
Hope cried out.
I groaned.
Pain bruised between us followed by mind-shattering relief.
Relief to touch and not fight it.
Relief to feel contact and not fear it.
Relief to find a tiny taste of the pleasure I’d been battling ever since Hope arrived and was no longer a timid ten-year-old but a feisty seventeen-year-old who wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Her fingers dove into my hair, dislodging my cowboy hat to tumble down my back. Her lips parted beneath mine, her tongue eager and brave, darting into my mouth before I could comprehend exactly what I’d done.
The silky slipperiness of her, the faint lemonade taste, the heat that rivalled the sun.
I snapped.
Dragging her toward me by her wrist, I grabbed her around the waist and half fell, half lowered her to the ground. Our lips never unlocked, messy and fast, hungry and unschooled.
My hands splayed over her hips as I pushed her against the huge tractor wheel, trapping her in place. My back bellowed as I leaned against her, weighing her down from mouth to toes.
She shivered. A deep moan escaped her, filling my lungs as my hardness found the welcome parting of her thighs.
Her kiss switched from wild to frantic.
My hands cupped her head.
Hers squeezed my ass.
I wanted to punish her for pushing me.
I wanted to curse her, climb into her, get her naked, and never let her go again.
She was maddening and frightening and everything I’d always avoided.
Yet having her in my arms, I was free.
Free to suck her tongue and bite her lip and squeeze her close. So fucking close we both struggled to breathe, fighting a physical war rather than one filled with words. Our teeth clacked as our kiss deepened, our heads danced, and tongues tangled.
What the hell was this…this insanity?
Nothing else mattered but this.
Nothing else entered my mind but this.
I would happily die in this.
Die in this kiss.
Kill for this kiss.
I needed more.
I needed everything.
She squirmed in my arms, brushing hard things and sending violence ripping through me.
“You’re killing me.” I kissed her with all the aggression she’d caused. “What the fuck did you do?” My cock begged for touch—her touch.
I wanted to goddamn cry that I’d prevented myself from feeling such things, all while my heart shot itself because it knew it would never be whole after this.
It was cursed.
For always.
“Jake—” Her teeth caught my bottom lip, followed by a lick and a kiss.
I lost all control.
She made me lose control.
My height meant I had to duck to gather her close. I hugged her delicious body against mine, pressing my excruciating ache into her.
Years of strict rules and self-preservation tactics all dissolved with the desire for more.
I fell to my knees, dragging her down with me.
She pushed me into the thick grass, straddling me.
Not once did we stop kissing.
We weren’t human anymore.
We were blood and bone and bruising, brutal desperation.
I didn’t know if my eyes were open or closed. All I saw was darkness, hunger, need. She didn’t push me away as I pressed her deeper into my lap. She didn’t tell me to stop as my fingers slid up her belly and found her breasts.
She encouraged me.
She spurred me on, fighting to get closer, pushing me down as if she wanted to lock me against the very same earth she’d fallen in love with.
I couldn’t catch my breath as we fought. Messy and out of control with lips burning and tongues licking and hands claiming every inch of each other.
There was no first anymore.
No first kiss or first touch or first flirt.
We’d demolished every law, and I wanted, begged to finish every other first.
Her hand dove between us, fingers rubbing hard against the steel in my jeans.
I nipped her in approval, grabbing her wrist and pressing her palm over me. Fingers weren’t enough. I wanted her entire hand.
Fumbling for her singlet, I wrenched it halfway up her belly. Our mouths were wet and hot, our breathing haggard.
Nothing had ever felt so good, so intoxicating, so right.
I couldn’t stop kissing her long enough to pull the fabric over her head.
But it didn’t matter anyway.
Because thundering hooves echoed in the land beneath us like a war drum.
Closer and closer.
A terrified call from a mother who was overprotective and fought against death every day like me.
And the world came smashing back.
And I remembered why I could never do this sort of thing.
I pulled away.
Hope launched to her feet.
I flopped onto my back.
And the consequences of what I’d done broke me.