Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
I don’t know why these sentiments cocoon me with warmth and arousal the most, but they do. And a chant echoes in my head: More, more, more.
Give me more of Donnelly.
As my hands roam, I’m smearing glitter all over him. On his black shirt. Underneath his tee and on his abs, down his strong biceps. Likewise, he must be coating my cheeks, my hair, my black hoodie. We’re a shimmery, scorching mess, and I couldn’t care less who sees.
I just want to be wrapped up in him. He bears his weight on me, and my back naturally finds the booth’s seat. He’s kissing me into a supine position, and with his hands on my cheeks, with his body hovering on top of mine, I feel shielded by him. Protected from everyone and anything.
Donnelly interlaces my fingers with his and pins my hands above my head.
“Get a room!” a guy yells.
Donnelly breaks our hot and heavy kisses, then shouts back, “You offering yours?” It’s a smooth wisecrack to a jeer. His grin even calms me, more so when he pulls me up against his chest. His hand on the small of my back, as though sheltering me from a possible storm. I’m facing his body and the wall, not the bar patrons, so no one else can see my face but Donnelly.
“Yeah, fuck no!” the guy shouts, not too hostile.
Donnelly laughs and tugs me on his lap. I’m straddling him. He’s still hard, but he’s doing his best to concentrate on our surroundings behind me. Must be the bodyguard in him.
He lifts my hood over my head. Am I being recognized? I don’t ask. Instead, I pull the corner of his tee and peek at his ink. A bold butterfly is tattooed on his abs, but the black moth underneath is more stunning, more vibrant.
“The moth is more striking somehow,” I tell him.
“It’s the shading.” He sips the last of his vodka soda and watches me trace the moth.
“It could be your true gift,” I whisper. “You have a way of making the darkness emerge into light.” I shrug. “It’s Star Wars stuff.”
He cups my cheek, and an overwhelmed look flickers in and out of his eyes again.
My temple throbs, like a prick at my brain. I stare into him, but I can’t see… “Have I…have I said that before?” I don’t remember. “Never mind.” I’m scared because I really can’t tell, but I glance at the kyber crystal around my neck. Likely, I did tell him. It makes the most sense.
“Love your Star Wars thoughts, space babe. You want my last shot?” He’s good at lightening the air and making my cavernous brain waves feel more poignant rather than heavy. I think I love him for that.
I shake away remnants of a nagging feeling. “You don’t want it?”
“Nah, too sour for me. Plus, I gotta drive.” He hands me the shot glass.
I’m not ready to go, but he’s also not rushing to leave either. I down the shot, the liquor burning my throat. He lights another cigarette. We pass it back and forth, taking drags and laughing as I attempt to make a smoke ring. He does a better job, and I stick my finger in the hole of his.
He grins. “Girl just desecrated my ring.”
“Guy is thinking about desecrating mine,” I throw out there, my cheeks heating.
Donnelly looks me over, clearly considering, clearly tempted. He hardens even more beneath me, and I instinctually grind forward. His low groan sticks to his throat. He clutches the side of my face, glitter shining across most of his skin. “Luna.”
“Donnelly.” I ache.
“I can’t hurt you.”
“I’m not asking you to hurt me.” I say it so quietly, I doubt he hears.
He plants a kiss against my temple, my cheek, my lips. I feel floaty again. Despite the unknown of where tonight will lead, trust feels inherent with him.
I yank at the hoodie strings, and the fabric swallows my face, only my nose poking out.
He kisses the tip.
I can’t stop smiling, especially as he places his hands on the top of my head. “You recharging your galactic batteries or what?”
“Uh-huh,” I mumble. “Powering up in the darkness. Being on Earth for so long drains me. Unless I have human contact.”
“This isn’t doing it for you?” He loosens the hoodie’s strings, and the hood opens so I can see Donnelly’s confused face.
I’m literally on his lap. He’s hard beneath me. Those two facts should mean, yes, human contact has been met. But it feels like part way. I’m not where I used to be with him before the amnesia, and I want to go the full distance and then some.
“It’s not enough,” I whisper. “I’m a part of a greedy species.”
“Think humans are right there with you. ‘Cause I know what you mean.” He caresses my cheek, and I could sink my whole face into his palm. I do actually lean into him, my buzz whirling my head. It loosens my muscles, and I curve my arms around his neck.