Page 66 of The Promises We Were Never Meant To Keep

My heart is a mess of erratic beats in my chest. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if he could hear every single one.

When I don’t lay down beside him, I feel his hand on my belly. Then I feel pressure.

My words rattle. “I think I’m going to need a sweater tonight.”

His voice is thick and rough. He promises, “I’ll keep you warm, Faye.”

Slowly, I shimmy down our makeshift bed until I’m laying with him. My body is a tingly mess of hormones. Holt hasn’t touched me or kissed me, and yet I feel the throb of needy awareness between my legs. Already, I’m certain my panties are wet.

“Come here,” Holt encourages gently. “We won’t do anything. I’ll just hold you while we sleep.”

I nod even though I kind of think I might be disappointed by the prospect of doing nothing at all. My body is humming. It wants to be explored by him.

Still, I give him my back and wiggle into his front. He wraps his arm around me and dips his head. When the heat of his lips whispers across the sensitive skin between my shoulder and neck that has been left bare by the design of my sleep shirt, goosebumps rise over every inch of my skin—and the heat between my legs increases.

I hold my breath to catch my moan.

Holt’s lips move over my skin in a kiss, this one firmer than the first. I can’t keep my breath from escaping now. It falls raggedly into the darkness that floods our tent. But my eyes have adjusted. I know if I looked over my shoulder, I would see him. So, I know he can see me. Can see the visible evidence of the goosebumps that cover my flesh. The proof that I am affected.

“Holt.”

“Mmmm?”

“I don’t want to sleep.”

His lips press into my skin again, and his fingers dig gently into my hips. I shift back into him, my body desperate for more contact and gasp when I feel the hard length of his arousal.

This time, it’s Holt who sucks in a breath. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know.” But I rock against him.

He lets out a noise that might as well splash me in gasoline before tossing a flame at me. I ignite. Holt’s hand moves from my hip to the hem of my shirt. He slides his hand under the material and presses his palm into my skin.

This isn’t all that different than the other times we’ve made out. There have been many moments where we’ve stolen touches and kisses. But every time before this was cloaked in the risk that we could be caught. We were never fully in it, because we knew that we were never fully alone.

Now, we’re alone. Completely alone.

No one is going to interrupt us. No one is going to catch us.

We can go as far as we want tonight, and there won’t be anyone to say anything.

Holt pulls me onto my back, and then his lips fall on mine. He kisses me like I’m air. Like he has to. Like I’m the life that promises him another day. Our tongues twist and tangle, and he shifts his body over mine. Instinctively, my legs part around him and he grinds his arousal into my core. I whimper because the feeling is so good.

My hands run the length of Holt’s back. He pushes my shirt up and murmurs into my mouth, “I want to feel your skin on mine.”

Words aren’t needed. I nod and Holt pushes my shirt over my head. His eyes feast on my chest, my belly. Another eruption of goosebumps rise across my flesh and my nipples harden into peaks that Holt can’t resist tasting.

My head falls back because that is good, too.

He moves from my breasts to my lips and back. He grinds into me and lets his hands roam until I feel like I’m about to melt into a puddle beneath him.

“I want to feel you, Holt.” My lips move against his neck, and he freezes.

He does a push up, caging me between his arms so that he can peer down into my eyes. “Are you sure, Faye?”

I bite my lip and the heat in his gaze simmers. “I’m sure.”

To push my point, I run my fingertips down his chest, his torso, to the band of his boxers. His belly flexes under my touch. His breath falls from where it’s been strangled in his throat.