Book 18: I Don't Like to Share

Skye

Alex moves us away from the couch, taking two steps to the side and pressing me against the smooth plaster wall. I breathe in his scent, closing my eyes against the sensation of his hands closing around my hips, his body flush to mine. It’s like the library but… better. We’re alone. There’re no wandering eyes, no whisper-hissed lead up to this–to this. His lips part over mine before he leans in to kiss me like this is the first time all over again.

I make an involuntary sound–a moan, a noise I doubt I’ve ever made, and Alex sighs into the kiss, turning it from exploratory and measured to something wild and more passionate than anything I’ve ever experienced before.

His hands travel up the curve of my waist until he clutches my ribs, his thumbs resting precariously near the slope of my breasts, which ache with an intensity I’m not prepared fo