He arches a sexy brow. “Is it? Hard?”
“Yes. It is. Very much so. And so is the question, because it depends on the guy, on our vibe, on what he wants.”
Owen scrubs a hand along the back of his neck, parts his lips, lets out a shuddery breath. “What if he wanted you to top him?”
That’s it. I’m throwing in the towel. My brain is officially scrambled. My senses are fried. “Then I would top the fuck out of him,” I say, all hot and twenty million times bothered.
“Good,” Owen murmurs. “That’s good to know.”
I grab the mug, take another drink, trying to cool off. Only there’s no cooling off now. This night is getting hotter. “My turn to ask.”
“Need my phone for a question?” Owen asks.
I shake my head. “Nope. I have one all ready.”
“Hit me with it.”
This one will speak volumes about Owen, so I ask, “Would you rather kiss all night long or have five minutes of sex but come ridiculously hard?”
Owen crosses his arms, a move that shows off his strong pecs. “What do you think I’d pick?”
I stare at his lips. They’re so lush and full. His mouth is perfection, and I have to know what he tastes like. I have to kiss him. And I have to do it before he can find anyone else on that stupid app.
“I bet you’re really into kissing,” I tell him.
His blue eyes blaze with desire. “With the right guy, I fucking love it,” Owen says, in the most sensual voice I’ve ever heard.
“Your turn,” I say, a little breathless. “Do you need the phone?”
Owen shakes his head. “I have my next question.”
“I can’t wait,” I say.
And he does make me wait. He takes his time. Stares hotly at me. Uncrosses his arms. Rubs a hand along his chin, his thumb swiping his bottom lip. I whimper as he touches his mouth. Ah, but to be that hand, touching those lips.
Owen takes a step closer, then slides his thumb along my jaw.
Holy fuck.
It’s just his thumb on my face, but it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever felt. I shudder. Everywhere.
His hand stops and he cups my face. “Would you rather kiss me tonight or never kiss me?”
This is the line.
My eyes float closed as the thrill and the danger of his question beckons me to cross the line.
12
Owen
When River opens his eyes, the answer is written in them—the way they shine with desire.
It’s in his shoulders, how they rise and fall.
And it’s in his breath, a harsh pant.
Then his answer comes in words too. “Now. I want to kiss you now, Owen.”
But I want to kiss River. I want to set the pace. I’ve thought about it for years, and it’s happening at last—my greatest fantasy. “I’m going to kiss you first,” I tell him.
“I don’t care who goes first. Let’s just fucking kiss.”
Sexiest words ever. They make me feel like a king.
Clasping my hands on River’s shoulders, I turn him so he’s backed against the counter. I slide a hand through his hair, and my entire body is a pinwheel of sensations. Wild shivers race down my arms as my fingers roam through his strands. My fingers are tingling—just from this. This small, sensual touch is electrifying my senses and I want to record every second of this kiss for posterity.
Remember it always.
Like how River bites his lip, his breath coming in a shuddery, persistent rhythm of pleasure as I stroke his impossibly silky hair.
Like how he leans into my hand, seeking contact. Seeking me.
I want to remember, too, how he looks at me, his brown irises tinged with so much desire it’s like it radiates off him.
I want to take my time with everything. Every touch. My hand coasts down to his neck, traveling over his shoulder, along his arm. He shivers as I go. Then as I press my body to his, I draw out the first ever groan from him.
“Oh God, that feels good,” he says, in a needy whimper.
A thrill rushes through the center of my being.
I did this.
I made him feel this good.
It’s heady and intense, and I want this night to last forever.
A tremble races down my body as wishes and wants collide. At long last, desire meets reality and it’s utter bliss.
I let go of him to take off my glasses, setting them carefully on the counter behind him.
“You’re hot with glasses and without glasses,” River says. “Like I said, you’re just a hottie.”
“Glad you think so.” Closing my eyes, I lean in, my face drifting closer to his, and I inhale that forest rain scent. “Mmm,” I murmur, like I’m floating above Earth, completely intoxicated. And it’s not the champagne. It’s him.
And it’s him wanting me with the same ferocity.
River’s lust is a mirage and I want to wrap myself in its shimmer.