Page 21 of Embracing the Beat
“Keys?” I murmur, running my fingernails along the short hair at the back of his neck.
His fingers tighten almost painfully, and I suck in a breath. He rubs his hands against my hips before releasing me and stepping back.
Immediately, I miss the warmth of his body against mine, his weight pressing me against the door.
“Michaela?”
His use of my real name snaps my attention back to the keys he’s dangling in front of my face.
“Sorry, what?” I shake the haze away in time to notice the left side of his mouth curl in a smirk.
“Still with me?” he asks.
“Yes.” Darting my tongue along my lips, I savor the flavor of him left there.
“I need to unlock the door.”
“What’s stopping you?” I tease without moving away from the door.
His eyes darken, the lust blazing back to life. Before I can shift, his arm burrows beneath me, lifting me until my feet dangle several inches off the ground and my body presses to his from shoulders to hips.
Oh. My. God.
I can’t lift my legs to lock around his hips, given the position of our bodies, but the overwhelming desire to do so has my teeth sinking into my lip on a whimper.
“What’s the matter?” he asks, nuzzling my jaw until his lips graze the shell of my ear.
“I want—”
“I know exactly what you want,” he interrupts, sliding the key into the lock. “And I intend to deliver. But someone must be into delayed gratification.”
The way his lips wrap around the word gratification creates another level of awareness. The heat of him, the way his muscles shift under my fingers as his arm bunches to twist the knob. I’m ready to pick up where we left off when he pauses on the threshold, part of us cast in the shadows of the dark entryway and the other caught in the warm glow of the porch light.
I open my mouth, ready to beg for more, but close it under the intensity of his stare.
“Last chance, Michaela,” he warns, and I shiver at the tone of his voice as he says my name. “If I cross this threshold with you in my arms, it tells me you still want this. That you’re ready for what’s about to happen.”
I gulp as nerves flutter in my tummy with the butterflies.
“W-what if I want to stop?”
He presses a chaste kiss against my lips.
“Tell me,” he whispers. “No matter how much I want you, I want you to want this more.”
“Okay.” I nod, tightening my hold around his neck. “I want this. I want you, West.”
My words release his feet, and he moves forward at an agonizing pace until we’re shrouded in darkness. Once we’re inside, he steps back against the door, pushing it closed with a quiet snick in the stretched silence between us. He releases his arm, and I slide down his body while my own quivers with anticipation.
His attention doesn’t leave my face as one hand disappears behind him to turn the lock. Every other one of my sexual experiences has been all about flash—quick heat. If I expect the same with West, he turns my expectations one hundred and eighty degrees on its head. He brings his hand back into view, and I hold my breath, ready for the flash to consume us. Instead, the smolder continues to build as he uses one finger to trace a line of heat along my jaw.
How can one touch—and such an innocent one—create a flood of desire so strong that I’m ready to strip naked right here, right now? I want to throw myself against him. I want his lips to annihilate any reality other than one centered around the sensations he’s creating. But there’s something about the way he holds himself, limits his touch to only his finger against my jaw, that locks me in place, centering all my focus to where his skin grazes mine.
“Kiss me?” I ask.
He shakes his head, and the sting of rejection pinches my stomach. I step back in retreat, ready to go hide in my room when his other hand shoots out and holds me in place.
“Where are you going?”
