We Fall Like Ashes | Wildfire Series

Sixteen: Hands To Himself

I should be embarrassed, should stop whatever was happening, but the moment that Beau's eyes connected with mine, I knew I was helpless to it all. It was like I was watching the scene from afar, sitting on the edge of a seat, desperate to see what would happen next. I wasn't in control anymore. At this moment, he had all of me.

Beau shifted, raking a hand through his hair to move it out of his eyes. He inched closer to me, gaze never leaving mine. I licked my lips without thinking, and he mimicked me. Besides that we stayed still, neither of us willing to break the tension. Not when it felt so heady, so delicious. God, what I wouldn't give to hear the thoughts in his head right now. What I wouldn't give for him to say something.

He didn't speak, though. His gaze fell back down again. It was quick—like he was sneaking a peek of something he didn't have permission to look at. There was an obvious war raging inside that head of his between the two versions of himself, and I wasn't sure which one I wanted to win.

Until his eyes, so intense and hungry, found mine again. And then I knew.

Fuck, I missed having him look at me like that.

"Collins," he breathed.

There was a bit of pining, a bit of desperation in how he said it.

I sucked in a breath. "Beau."

He swore softly, and I could almost hear him counting in his head. Waiting for some undetermined amount of time to pass before he forced himself to move. And when he finally did, it was to dip his head closer to my chest. My heart kicked up a notch in response, anticipation flowing freely in my veins, longing for...anything. I didn't even know what.

Beau seemed to know, though. He lowered his head slowly, searching my face for any sign that he should stop. But that was the last thing I wanted. My nipples hardened, a tell-tale sign of what part of my body was making decisions.

Beau broke contact with my gaze just before he pressed a kiss to the spot right below my collarbone. Even though I knew it was coming, I gasped. And then, when he started trailing open-mouthed kisses down my sternum, I sighed. Yes. His eyes flicked back up to mine when he reached the swell of my breast, and I could have sworn that I saw his lips curve in a smirk.

Finally, he spoke again.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled against my skin before looking away, giving all of his attention to what he was doing.

It definitely seemed like he was apologizing for kissing me, but he wasn't making an effort to stop. His lips brushed over my breasts, making me think that he either couldn't help it or he didn't care anymore.

"Why are you apologizing?" I asked, hating how scratchy my voice was. How completely not sexy I sounded.

Beau didn't answer right away. Instead, he swirled his tongue around my nipple, and I groaned.

"Because I said I'd keep my hands to myself," he muttered as if it were an afterthought.

"You're using your mouth," I gasped. "There's a difference."

The noise he made in response sent a pulsing heat straight between my legs.

"You're so fucking right," he groaned before sucking my whole nipple into his mouth, and I arched my back, giving all of myself up for him.

Oh, God. It was just as good as I remembered. The things he could do with that mouth would forever haunt me. Ruin me for other guys.

I tangled my fingers into his thick, black hair, holding his head in place because I didn't want him to ever fucking stop.