Page 80 of The Kiss Connection

I glare at him. “Two beds,” I grumble at him under my breath. With the door still open, I have to be careful who might overhear us.

Myles rolls his eyes. “So dramatic.” He puts the bags down in the bedroom and kicks the door shut, giving us privacy. “Admit it, you like the idea of sharing a bed with me.”

“I don’t.” I glare at him.

“It’s plenty big, you keep to your side, I’ll keep to mine,” Myles says.

“You can have the floor.”

He snorts and rolls his eyes. I swear he just learned that move from Bristol. He steps closer, my legs back up against the bed, there really isn’t anywhere for me to go. “Admit it, Pint Size, you like me.”

His breath hovers near my mouth, his eyes on my lips, and I inhale sharply. It’s been nearly a week since that kiss, the one where my body had nearly betrayed me, had made me want to claw at him like a wild animal as the passion had flooded all of my senses.

But we were seated in front of my parents. I couldn’t exactly tear off his clothes in front of them.

Thankfully, Myles had enough of his senses to end the kiss, because I was about to tackle him. My hormones must have been raging because just one glance and I wanted to jump him. His body is once again pressed against mine, and my breath catches in the back of my throat.

His hands move to my hips, steadying me as my fingers glide to his chest. I can feel his heartbeat and it’s soaring, just like mine.

“There’s no one watching us, Myles,” I say.

It’s just the two of us, alone. If we’re fake dating, why is he looking at me like that?

His lips move to my ear, his breath a sensory overload as the heat of his mouth sends tingles throughout my body.

“You need to relax,” he whispers, his tongue sucking on my neck as I grip him tighter, worried my legs might buckle.

Each breath comes out more pronounced, louder, as my eyes glaze over in a hazy state of euphoria.

“Good girl.” He kisses my neck and my heart flutters along with my pussy as he pulls me tighter, letting me feel his hard-on between us. “Now kiss me,” he commands, and my lips part, doing as he asks of me.

My head swims, and for a second, I forget everything around me, lost in the sensation, in his touch, and my fingers tug at the hem of his shirt, letting my hand slide under the cotton, needing to touch him, to feel his bare skin.

His mouth is on mine. His fingers move around to the nape of my neck and my lips part, my tongue seeking out his, need and want taking hold above all else.

My tongue meets his, and like a flame that’s been lit, there’s an explosion of heat between us.

A delicious moan spills from the back of his throat, and the sound makes everything real. But I’m not denying this with him, it’s what I want, what I crave. Since that kiss in Montana, I can’t stop thinking about him.

And it’s finally happening.

I pull him atop me, onto the mattress, wanting to feel his body against mine, the weight of him, his touch, all of it.

It’s too much and yet not enough. My fingers tug at his shirt, pulling it higher, wanting to rid him of all his clothes.

Myles pulls back, shifting his weight off me.

The room is a thousand degrees, and the way he’s looking at me, my body burns hotter. He takes several deep breaths, and I do the same, trying to slow my racing heart.

“We need to go downstairs,” he says and leans down, his hand pushing an errant strand of hair behind my ear.

I cover my face with my hands. It’s New Year’s Eve. His teammates and work colleagues are here. We can’t be sneaking off and having sex; that would be incredibly inappropriate.

My soft gasps are still pronounced as I try to catch my breath. Myles grabs my hand. “Come on,” he says, helping me from the bed.

After I’m standing, I reach for his head. “Your hair,” I say, wanting to fix it.

“Bedhead?” He grins with a wry smile. “Good. Is your lipstick smeared all over my lips? I want to make it really obvious what we were doing.”