Her Massive Missile: The Fireworks Series by Amelia Wilde

Author:Amelia Wilde [Wilde, Amelia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-07-21T16:00:00+00:00

Mallory

He moves in for a kiss again, and it hits me all over again: Chris is not the same guy he was in high school.

For one thing, he’s not the tall, gangly nerd who sat behind me in science class.

The thing I somehow can’t manage to communicate is that I would still be into him even if he was.

Because I was into him.

I’ve pushed that memory down enough over the years, and whatever almost happened in the alley has brought it screaming to the surface.

“I liked it,” I murmur into his ear. This evening is like a shot of truth serum.

“Liked what?” His voice is deeper now, rougher, but it has that same smooth tenor underneath.

“I liked being rescued.”

The light in the living room flickers. There’s a snick as the filament in the bulb cracks, leaving us in the moonlight. The world has heard my dirty, secret thoughts and adjusted the lighting accordingly.

Chris’s eyes are still bright, even in the pale light streaming through his uncle’s front window. I would steal looks behind me during class, just to see those eyes fixed on the blackboard at the front of the room. A darkness flares in his eyes. I am a raw bundle of nerves.

He bends forward, brushing his lips across my collarbone. God bless the ballet neckline of my shirt. “It got you hot to be helpless.”

It’s not a question.

“In your arms.” My voice shakes, breaking. It’s the pure, unadulterated truth, and it turns me on, heat gathering between my legs, as much as it makes me ashamed. I liked it. I liked the way it felt to be swept off my feet even as the ground rushed up beneath me. I liked how strong his arms felt underneath my body. I liked knowing that Chris was big enough to have his way with me, if he wanted.

I like knowing it now, too.

“How about my hands?” Chris asks the question offhandedly, casually, and in the same breath he plucks my wrists from his shirt and pins them up above my head.

I tug at them, testing his grip. It’s firm. It’s firm as hell. My t-shirt rides up a few inches. Chris notices and bends to kiss along that line. His hot breath curls against my skin. I pull harder against his big hand, which encircles both of my wrists without any effort.

“Yes,” I breathe.

He lifts his head and looks into my eyes. “I want more of this. Do you want more of this?”

Even with his fingers tight around my wrist, I know down in my bones that if I so much as shook my head he would release me. He would walk me home. He would be the perfect gentleman.

I look straight ahead. “Yes.”

“Then keep your knuckles on the wall.”

I curl my hands lightly into fists and press the knuckles against the rough wallpaper. Chris lets go, and in the next moment his fingers are working deftly at my jeans. I arch up from the sofa and let him pull them off.

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