behind the camera - fake dating sports romance (wlw)

Chapter Twenty-Two

HARPER

The second the words leave her mouth, the air changes. She moves-fluid and certain-like the shift was always meant to happen, like she was only ever waiting for permission.
And then suddenly, she's above me, straddling my hips, hands braced on either side of my head like I'm something precious and fragile but also something she's about to ruin. My back hits the cushions with a soft thump, and then she kisses me.

No, devours me.
There's no other word for it. Her mouth crashes into mine like it's starving, and the sound I make is embarrassingly desperate. But I don't care. My hands fly to her waist, then up-clutching at her back, pulling her closer until there's not a breath of space between us. Our chests press together and I feel her heart hammering hard and fast, a frantic, gorgeous beat that matches my own. I feel it everywhere-her warmth, her weight, the way she completely surrounds me like she's trying to memorize my body from the outside in.

I kiss her back with everything I have, letting her consume me.

A sound slips out of me-a whimper, high and aching-and she catches it with a soft growl, kissing me deeper, hungrier. Her hands are everywhere. She doesn't break away from my mouth, not even for a second, but her fingers slide beneath the hem of the shirt I'm wearing-her shirt, the one that smells like her, the one I wore without thinking and now can't imagine not wearing-and with one swift, practiced motion, she pulls it up and off.

It lands somewhere across the room, forgotten.

Her eyes trail down, but only for a second, because she's already moving. Her lips leave mine in a trail of heat, dragging down to my jaw, then lower-brushing a kiss under my ear that makes me shiver. She pauses at my collarbones, mouth wet and open, breathing hot against my skin before she presses her lips there, and then her teeth.

I gasp-sharp, breathless-and my fingers tangle in her hair without thinking, tugging just enough to make her groan into my skin.
She likes that. I can tell by the sound she makes, low and wrecked. She kisses lower, slower now, taking her time as her hands slide over my ribcage, steady and sure, and I can't stop touching her-can't stop tracing the lines of her arms, the slope of her waist, the dip of her lower back. Every part of her feels like fire and safety at once.

When I open my eyes, she's looking at me.
Not my body. Me. And it does something to me-flips something inside out. I've been kissed before. I've been touched. But no one has ever looked at me the way Millie does now, like I'm something holy. Like she's both reverent and about to ruin me.
Her thumb brushes under my breast and I suck in a sharp breath, my hips arching up to meet hers without meaning to. She leans in, kissing the corner of my mouth, soft and slow now-like a promise.

"Still good?" she asks, her voice thick and low, scratchy with want, like she's holding back everything she feels and it's barely working.

Her breath ghosts across my jaw, and the sound of her voice alone makes me shudder.

I can't speak. Not really. All I can manage is a nod and a broken, breathless: "Yes. God, yes. Please don't stop."

My body is alive-burning, aching, desperate in a way I've never felt before. It's like every nerve ending is tuned to her hands, her mouth, the weight of her body pressed against mine. My hips grind up into her without thought, seeking friction, chasing it like it'll save me.

She grins-cocky, hungry, wrecked-and the glint in her eyes makes me wetter, makes my stomach clench.

"I wasn't planning to, darling."

That word-darling-spills from her lips like a sin and a prayer all at once. And then her mouth is on mine again, stealing the air from my lungs. She kisses me like she owns me, like she's waited too long and she's not going to slow now that she has me under her. Her hands drag over my body like she's trying to memorize the map of me, fingertips grazing my sides, my hips, the underside of my breast. I moan into her mouth, helpless and aching, and when I yank her shirt over her head and toss it somewhere behind us, I finally get to see her.