Key To Your Heart

11

Roseanne

When Lisa tugs my hair back and takes my mouth, my knees go weak.

But she catches me. She holds me up. She presses her leg between mine, wraps her big palm around my throat, and kisses me senseless while I hold on to her hips for dear life.

The energy between us is intense, and yet she doesn't rush. Her lips are firm, her tongue is soft, her touch sending sparks skittering over my body.

She savors me. She makes every touch, every point of contact feel like it lasts longer and goes deeper than should be humanly possible.

With Lisa Manoban kissing me, the world stands still. I smell her.

I feel her.

I taste her.

My palms itch, so I slide them beneath her shirt. Her warm skin and the light smattering of hair just above her belt buckle make me groan into her mouth.

She nips my bottom lip in response and dives back into working my mouth. My fingers inch up, exploring the ridges I peeked at the night when we sat together after her swim.

I whisper when my hand finds the end of that silver chain. It's a talisman, a reminder of the night she held me. The night I so desperately needed to be held.

And no one was there except for⁠-

"Lisa," I breathe her name against her lips and hardly recognize my voice.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs back.

My smile gets cut off by another tug on my hair, and now her mouth is on my neck. Biting. Kissing. Licking.

"No, you're not." I roll my head back and press my breasts out toward her. I swear my body already knows what my head has had an impossible time wrapping itself around.

I expect her to laugh, but she takes her mouth off me, and I want to stamp my foot. I want to plunge us straight back into that frantic moment of need.

I want to be consumed by her.

That wild look flashes in her eyes as she pulls away, only far enough to meet my gaze. We both know she's not sorry, so she doesn't confirm it-she just watches me for a moment. I'm worried she'll leave. Stop. Throw in the towel and walk away.

Instead, her voice comes out soft and deep-almost pained-as she murmurs, "No, I'm not."

And then she kisses me again. But it's different this time. It's soft.

The pads of her fingers curl under my chin, and then her knuckles stroke up over my cheeks. My chest aches with the sweetness of it, and I press myself closer to her. Wanting her heat, her touch, her protection.

Because no matter how much she infuriated me tonight, I'd be a fool not to recognize that the woman kissing me right now would ride headfirst into battle with me. For me. She'd cut people down with her words. Scorch them with her glare. Humiliate them with her directness.

And after everything this past month has held for me, that makes me long for her in a completely unfamiliar way. I grip her chain and press down on her leg. If I could crawl right into her lap and have her pet me like a fucking cat, I would. I'd purr for her.

The kiss slows, and I can sense her retreat before it's even happened.

"Lisa, please don't stop."

She takes her hands off my face and props them on the wall behind me before dropping her head to the crook of my neck. My hands roam gently over the back of her head as she dusts kisses across the top of my shoulder, making my body break out in gooseflesh.