The Greatest Hits: CH. 3

CHAPTER THREE: BROKEN CHORDS

His mouth hit mine like a dare. There was no soft lead-in, no careful testing of the waters. Just hands and heat and Beck pressing me back against the wall like he’d finally decided he was done waiting. I didn’t stop him. Couldn’t.

My hands slid under his shirt, up his back, fingers tracing the ridges of muscle I didn’t remember being there two years ago. He groaned into my mouth—low and guttural, like it had been sitting in his throat since the last time we touched. He grabbed my jaw with one hand, tilting it just enough to deepen the kiss, then pulled back just long enough to say, voice wrecked:

“Two years, Nolan.”

He said my name like it was a sin and a salvation all at once.

“You gonna make it up to me or what?”

My breath hitched.

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