Page 134 of His Reckoning

My other hand tightens at her waist, pulling her flush against me as the door presses into her back.

The taste of her lipstick hits me first. Then the soft sound she makes when my thumb coasts under the edge of her top.

That sound almost undoes me completely.

I break the kiss for air, my forehead resting against hers. Her breathing is just as uneven as mine. Her eyes are wide, lips slightly swollen. Red lipstick smudged.

Desire sharpens her expression, challenging me.

“You’re still mad?” she murmurs.

“Very,” I exhale.

She bites her bottom lip. “Good.”

Her fingers hook into my shirt, pulling me closer again. This time, when our mouths meet, neither of us is pretending this is just another argument anymore.

Kayla’s fingers edge into my hair as she kisses me back, hard and immediate, like she’s been holding this in all night too.

My grip tightens on her waist, and I pull her off the door and walk backward toward the kitchen.

She makes a small sound against my mouth that sends heat straight down my spine, and then her hands move quickly. I end up backing up against the island, my back hitting the counter.

Her fingers hook into the front of my shirt and tug.

“Really?” I murmur against her lips.

She pulls harder. “Less talking.”

I laugh under my breath, but it dies quickly when she unbuttons my shirt and pulls it off my shoulders then down my arms.

“Careful,” I say.

Kayla doesn’t answer. She just grabs the fabric again and yanks it the rest of the way off before tossing it somewhere behind her.

My hands slide down her sides in response, catching the edge of that red tank top.

For a second, she freezes, and our eyes meet. That same electric tension sparks between us again.

“Still mad at me?” I ask quietly.

Her lips curve. “Very.”

“Good.”

I pull the tank top up over her head before she can say anything else. She lets out a surprised laugh as it disappears across the kitchen.

I spin us around, and she braces herself on the edge of the marble, breathing a little faster now.

“Still jealous?” she asks.

My hands settle on her hips again. “Very.”

Her fingers move to my belt. “Good.”

When she looks up at me again, the challenge in her eyes is unmistakable. She fumbles with my belt for a second, then unzips my pants and drags them down with my boxers.

I kick them off while I go for her pants. My thumb and finger grab the corner and pull until it unbuttons.