Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
“And?” Rocky asks.
“And then I did this…” Without thinking, I lean into him, and I kiss Rocky. My lips are on his lips, and my pulse explodes.
I can’t gather enough breath in my lungs. I pull back fast—to where it lasts two seconds. Tops.
His brows arch.
Oh my God. “I’m so sorry, that was…” Unconsented? Abrupt?
“A peck,” he states.
“What?” I’m whiplashed, out of breath.
“You pecked him on the lips,” Rocky says, but that’s not what has me so flustered.
“I just kissed you,” I say, needing him to acknowledge this like right fucking now.
He gives me a narrowed look. “We’ve kissed a thousand times, Phebs.”
Am I making this weird? “On jobs, Rocky.” I force myself not to grab a bed pillow and hide—or throw it at him.
“This is about a job.” His chest rises and falls a little heavier, and he avoids my gaze for a tenser second. I’m just his partner in crime. He’s not going to pursue anything real with me. Clearly.
Stop getting your hopes up, Phoebe.
“Yeah, you’re right,” I say, and tuck a piece of my hair behind my ear. “This is basically con adjacent.” Disappointment sinks my stomach, but I try to push the awful feeling away. Especially as our eyes latch.
As a slight acknowledgment passes from him to me and from me to him. As our gazes flit a little more carelessly over each other.
There is attraction.
That is real.
But like hell am I acting on it for real. Being rejected by Rocky sounds like utter hell, and if he wants me, then maybe I want to be chased. Maybe I’d rather reject him. How about that?
I cross my arms hotly. “How should I have kissed him, anyway? It was a goodbye kiss in the middle of the afternoon in public, you realize that? I couldn’t go for tongue.”
His gray eyes lift back to mine. “I’m you,” he says, and my heart rate goes from sixty to two hundred realizing he’s going to show me.
He cups my cheek, as lightly and softly as I would another guy, and with his gaze fastened on mine, he bridges the distance slowly, gradually, and the unbearable, inescapable tension winds inside of me. His lips close against mine as he kisses me, making it feel deeper, then he nudges into a more forceful, sensual kiss. With his hand against my jaw—he draws me closer.
Holy shit. His touch sends a shock wave down my neck and arms and legs, thrumming my pussy. Lighting my core.
He pulls back, both of us searching for breath. “Like that.”
I don’t want to catch my breath—I don’t want this to end. “Like this?” I clasp his face with the same softness, and our gazes dive into one another as I drag myself closer. My lips ghost over his, and I sense his muscles contracting, his body shifting nearer. Then I kiss him with the same sensual undertones, and my heartbeat skyrockets.
I nudge into a deeper kiss without tongue, like he did.
His hand claws at the side of my face, and I feel his fingers sliding to the back of my head. Yes. I think he’s going to grip my hair. I think he’s going to plunge his tongue into my mouth. I think he’s going to push me to the bed and do dirty things to me. Please.
He cuts the kiss short.
I internally groan. Why, why, why? No, no, this is good. We shouldn’t be together. My mom will be intolerable about it. She’s obsessed with the idea of us—more than even I am.
This is just for a con. It’s exactly what it should be.
Rocky exhales hard and looks me over. “You okay?”
“Just waiting for my review.” I lean farther back and brush hair off my tight shoulder.
He forces a smile. “Adequate.”
“My kiss was better than yours.”
“True.”
The sudden compliment eases me, and maybe he knew it would. My joints loosen and shoulders slacken.
He checks the door. “We could keep practicing.”
Who would turn down a make-out session with their biggest crush? Not me. So that’s how I spend fifteen minutes in heaven with Rocky. I taste him on my lips. His chest melds against my breasts, but we sit upright. Never lying down.
We teeter on the edge of self-destruction, toying with the idea of French kisses and hair pulls, but we crumble under the parameters we’ve set.
Practice a public goodbye kiss.
Somehow, the tension amasses to new heights from our self-control, and these become the hottest goodbye kisses of my entire life. My lips sting against his, and my skin hums, like with one simple brush against my elbow, I might release a sudden moan.
“Brayden!” his dad calls from outside my room, and we break apart. Rocky shoots to his feet, his lips reddened, and he combs two hands through his hair. We hear his dad again. “Brayden!!”
“I’ll be there in a sec!” He’s about to glance over at me when the door just whooshes open. No knock. No true warning.