Page 59 of Big Dill

Neither of us moves.

My pulse is a roar in the quiet room. His jaw is tight, eyes shadowed, like he’s bracing for impact. Rejection, maybe.

Or…agreement.

“Brody, please,” I murmur, and I don’t even know what I’m asking. To leave… or to stay.

That’s a lie. My body knows exactly what I want, and while my common sense is hanging by a frayed thread, the reckless side is tugging at that tread and asking…what’s one more bad decision?

He exhales, rough and frustrated, and takes a measured half step back, like distance might douse the fire between us.

It doesn’t.

I step forward, closing it again.

“This is a bad idea,” he says, more to himself than to me.

“It is,” I agree, my voice barely a whisper.

Still, neither of us moves.

“I should go,” he says finally, low and strained. “Before I forget how to be good.”

My body screams no, loud enough to drown out every reasonable thought. Before I can stop myself, I grab a fistful of his shirt, anchoring him to me.

“Maybe,” I say, heart pounding. “Maybe I don’t want good, Brody.”

His hand lifts, hesitates—then brushes my cheek, feather-light but warm, needy. His gaze drops to my parted lips.

“I just realized something…” he begins.

His unfinished thought coils tight in my chest. “What?” I blurt, wide-eyed, hanging on every breath, every flicker of his expression, praying he’s about to say exactly what I need to hear.

“When we said no more kissing…” His voice drops, low and husky, charged with arousal, hunger, need. He steps closer, so close I feel the heat radiating off him. The air between us hums, every heartbeat a drum in my chest. His eyes flick up to mine. His finger traces along my lower lip. “We were talking about right here…on the mouth.”

“It’s true.” I draw in a deep breath, hold it, my chest tightening.

His thumb slides into my mouth. A rough groan escapes him as I suck, and I feel his head tilt back, eyes shutting briefly, lost in the sensation.

“But…” His gaze snaps back to mine. “I don’t remember saying anything about not kissing here.”

Before I can register it, his hands cup my sides, thumbs brushing over the curve of my breasts. I lean into him, shivering as the pads scrape over my sensitive nipples.

“No, I didn’t remember saying no to kisses there, either,” I admit too quickly, heat rising at the grin tugging at his lips.

“Or here,” he murmurs, sliding one hand lower, teasing, deliberate.

“No, no. We didn’t say anything about there either.”

And then he’s lifting me effortlessly off the floor. I instinctively wrap my legs around him as he carries me to my private room. The door slams shut behind us with a thud, then he’s pressing me flush against the wood. Shadows flicker across his face in the muted streetlight cutting into the darkness, and I can’t stop my gaze from drinking him in.

“So, from what I understand,” he says, leaning in, lips hovering a hair’s breadth from mine, “I can kiss you everywhere…except right here,” he breathes, his lips just brushing mine.

“That’s my understanding too,” I murmur, smirking despite the heat crawling over me. “Which is a good thing. We hated that anyway.” I pucker my lips and make a mock noise of disgust, and he chuckles, low and pleased.

He pushes against me harder, and my legs drop to the floor. Thick fingers curl around mine, anchoring them above my head, pinning me in place. Heat rolls through me as he roughly rubs against me. A gasp catches in my throat when he growls and presses hot, wet kisses to my eyes, nose, cheeks, and neck…everywhere except my mouth.

I wiggle and moan, holding his hands tighter, afraid he’ll have second thoughts. Every nerve screams that this is wrong, and yet, oh so right.