CHAPTER 87: PG-13

His whisper hadn’t even cooled on her skin when something inside her gave in, needing him. She turned, just her head, just enough to find him.

And that was all it took.

His mouth was on hers in the next breath, fierce and unrelenting, kissing her from behind like he’d been starving for her taste, like he needed it to stay sane.

One hand held her waist, the other braced against the sink, steadying them both as his lips claimed hers, rough and deep. Tongue, heat, pressure, there was no space left between hesitation and want. Just the crash of everything they’d buried.

She moaned against his lips, the sound torn from deep in her throat and he lost any hope of holding back.

He pulled her body against his, her spine flush to his chest, one arm wrapping around her waist, the other sliding over her shoulders, covering her hands like he needed to feel every inch of her.

Holding her there, close, against him, like every second without her touch was one he couldn’t bear to take.

But it wasn’t enough. Not nearly.

She turned fully then, hands finding his shoulders, then the sides of his face and dragged him down into another kiss. This time messier. Hotter. Desperate.

Their bodies collided like they were trying to climb into each other’s skin, chasing an ache that had only grown sharper with time.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. It was everything they’d held back, and it hit like fire.

Her body trembled slightly under his touch, his hands gliding down the smooth curve of her back, then settling on her hips to draw her in closer, until not a breath of space remained between them.

And then he lifted her.

A gasp slipped from her lips as he settled her on the edge of the marble sink, the cool surface pressed against her thighs, a sharp contrast to the molten heat of his mouth.

He kissed down her neck, slow and deliberate, her legs curled around his waist, and she clutched at his shoulders, fingers threading into his hair as he mouthed at the damp skin of her collarbone, and then lower and lower until she moaned, soft and helpless, into the crook of his neck.

"Craig..." she breathed.

Their bodies locked together, heat surging between them, his hands hot and firm on her waist. Every inch of her where his hands roamed felt like it had been set alight.

"God, I missed you," he murmured into her skin. "I never forgot this."

His voice was low, rough with memory. Like every second without her had been spent remembering exactly how she felt, how she tasted, how she made him lose control without even trying.

Merlina’s fingers fisted in the fabric of his shirt, tugging him hard against her until her chest was flush with his.

The towel barely clung to her now, loosened by their movements, hanging low and precarious over her chest, the edge slipping with every shift of her body until one part dipped just beneath her breast, leaving her bare to him.

Her nipple brushed against him, hard and sensitive against the cotton of his shirt, the contact sharp enough to steal her breath.

She kissed his jaw, then lower to the side of his neck, tasting every part of him. Her hands slid under the hem of his shirt, palms skating up his back, over muscle, feeling every sharp breath he took like it was hers.

His hand gripped her bare thighs, dragging upward with a reverence that bordered on desperation. He slid his fingers higher, pressing into the tender skin just beneath the curve of her hips, his thumbs grazing paths that made her pulse stutter.

Merlina shifted restlessly beneath his touch, thighs tightening around his waist, anchoring him closer, rocking subtly like she couldn’t help herself, like her body was already chasing something deeper.

Craig pulled back just enough to look at her. Her face was flushed, lips parted, pupils blown wide. She looked wrecked with wanting. Needing.

And then his gaze fell lower, to the soft curve of her breast—skin damp and flushed, nipple peaked from cold and heat and everything in between.

He froze for half a second. His breath seized like she’d knocked the air from his lungs.

Their eyes met, he was hard against her, and she was soaked. There was nothing careful in the way they looked at each other now. Only hunger, only heat, only the impossible need that had simmered for too long, finally unleashed.

His mouth crashed against hers again, more desperate than before. One hand slid behind her, splaying across her bare back to pull her tighter, the other cupping her jaw as he kissed her like he couldn’t stand another second of restraint.

Then his mouth broke from hers, only for a breath, only to drag his lips across her jaw, down her neck, lower.

She gasped as he reached the slope of her chest, his breath warm against her bare skin. And when his lips finally closed around her nipple, everything inside her clenched. His tongue flicked once, slow and deliberate. She arched against him with a soft, broken moan.

He groaned into her skin, like the taste of her was undoing him.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him there as he sucked gently, then harder, lips sealing over her like he couldn’t get enough. Each tug of his mouth sent sparks racing down her spine, lighting her up from the inside out.

"Craig," she whispered, breath shivering, "please..."

It didn’t matter what she was asking for...more, less, everything. The plea alone made them press hard against each other, like their bodies were trying to make up for all the time they’d been apart, like they could consume each other if they touched harder.

And still, she ached.

For all of him. And he did too.

She could tell by the way his grip on her thighs tightened, his fingers digging into her skin like he was holding on for dear life. His breath hitched, warm and uneven against her neck, as her hips rolled again, slower this time, more deliberate.

Then he groaned, head falling to her shoulder as his body pressed in, hard and hungry. "Shit," he whispered, voice ragged. "Merlina,"

And just like that, his mouth was gone.

She blinked, dazed, lips swollen, skin tingling everywhere he’d touched.

He stepped back, slow and heavy with restraint, hands gripping the edge of the sink on either side of her, like he needed to hold something that wasn’t her.

Her voice came out in a whisper. "Why’d you stop?"

His eyes met hers, dark and wrecked. But then, he smirked. "Not with your siblings next door."

She stared, barely able to think.

He leaned in like he might kiss her again, then stopped just short, brushing his thumb over swollen bottom lip, "PG-13 remember?"

She exhaled shakily, eyes locked on him, her breath uneven like she was trying and failing to come back to herself.

There was a faint crease between her brows, the kind that said she hadn’t fully processed what he’d said. Like her body heard it first, but her mind was still catching up. Still caught in the heat, the closeness, the way his hands had felt on her skin.

And before she could come up with a single coherent thought, he turned, adjusting his shirt with maddening ease, and walked out the bathroom door, leaving her flushed, breathless, and absolutely undone on the sink.

The moment she heard the soft click of the bedroom door closing, Merlina pressed a palm to her face and looked up at herself in the mirror. Still flushed, still dizzy with want.

She stayed there for a beat, trying to steady her breath, to quiet the thunder in her chest. But it was no use.