Too Late To Love Me I Already Left With His Twins (Lydia and Dave) novel Chapter 28

28 /286

Trouble?

Lydia POV

+15 8gnus

His hand lifted.

Slowly.

Like he was giving me time to stop him.

And when his fingers touched my jaw, every thought in my head vanished on impact.

I should have stepped back.

I know that.

I should have remembered every annoying thing about him. Every dismissive thing. Every cold thing. Every Cyn thing.

But he was looking at me like none of that existed in the room anymore.

And maybe I was lonelier than I wanted to admit.

Maybe he was too.

Maybe that was the real danger. Not attraction. Need.

His thumb brushed lightly against my skin, tracing the line of my jaw with a gentleness that felt almost unfair. My breath caught. He looked at my mouth again, then back at my eyes. 1

And very quietly, he asked, 1

“Tell me to stop.”

I should have.

God knows I should have.

Instead, I just stood there looking at him like my common sense had died in the hallway downstairs.

That was apparently answer enough.

Because the next second, he kissed me.

And every single intelligent thought I had ever possessed immediately resigned.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t tentative. It was the kind of kiss that felt like something already too late – raw tension and months of frustration pouring out at once. His mouth was firm, demanding, like he was angry at how much he wanted this. I kissed him back before pride could save me, which was honestly humiliating. My hands fisted in the front of his shirt as if I could anchor myself against the way my body was already betraying me. 1

His hand slid to the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair, tilting my head exactly how he wanted. I felt the heat of him everywhere — the hard press of his chest, the way his other hand gripped my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. When he deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing mine, a low sound escaped me that I immediately hated. He tasted like the whiskey he’d had earlier and something darker, something that made my knees feel unreliable.

By the time he pulled back, both of us were breathing like the room had run out of air. He rested his forehead

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+15 8gnus

lightly against mine. For one stupid, suspended second, neither of us moved.

Men he kissed me again – slower this time, but no less intense. His lips moved against mine with deliberate intent, and I stopped pretending I wanted this less than I did.

I’m not going to sit here and narrate every reckless choice that happened after that.

I have some dignity. Barely. 1

But what I will say is this:

One moment we were standing beside my desk. The next, my laptop was forgotten on the edge, my notes scattered somewhere on the floor. Clothes came off in impatient, clumsy movements – his shirt tugged over his head, my blouse pushed down my shoulders, his hands hot against my skin as he backed me toward the bed. Every touch tely urgent, almost desperate. His mouth found my neck, teeth grazing lightly before soothing with his tongue, pulling another shaky breath from me. When his hands explored lower, tracing the curve of my waist, the dip of my hips, the sensitive skin of my thighs, I arched into him without thinking. 1