Read Online Beautiful Elixir (Beautiful Oblivion #3) by Addison Moore - Free Book Online Page B

he always leads me to the flame. But if this relationship goes in the direction that just about every other relationship I’ve ever had in my life—the two of us are about to get severely burned.
    His mouth falls to mine, soft at first as he backs away. He blinks at me with that barely-there smile on his face, the look that says come and get it, prove to me you want this. I came back for you—you dirty little bitch, show me you care.
    Okay, so that last part was strictly out of my rotten imagination, but sometimes those little lies that prickle at our subconscious are the only things we choose to believe.
    I launch at him with my lips, clamping my mouth over his like a seal. Our tongues find one another as I crawl onto his lap and place his roving hands over my thighs. Now it’s me who’s in control. My tongue wild as a serpent in his mouth, his groping hands begging for more even though the show ends at my panty line tonight. There will be no fornicating, no free love. I am not about to sell the farm when my body is the only weapon I have to war with. No, definitely not tonight.
    Caleb kisses me back, long, strong, thrusting, smooth, and caressing kisses that make me take pause—reconsider the game as I sigh into his mouth like a schoolgirl. I don’t think Keith has ever kissed me like this. I don’t think Keith has ever incited a riot in my body, making my aching bones beg for more. I haven’t been kissed like this since all those Caleb-soaked summers so long ago. This tastes like heaven, like the future, like the only thing in the world I ever want to do.
    My heart drums over his, explosive like the shattering of glass, letting me know this is the truth.

Caleb
    T here was a reason that I used to look forward to summer, to spending three solid months up at the lake with my uncle, and that reason is sitting just an inch shy of my hard-on. Kennedy Westfield’s— Slade’s kisses taste like honey. It’s a bad cliché, I know, but it’s the only thing I can think of to describe her sweet, very sweet, lips, the way her tongue dances over mine, the intense salivating of her mouth. Fine wine and honey. There, that’s only slightly better.
    She pulls back abruptly, her mouth a ruby red, her lips still pouting as if she were sucking down a bottle of whiskey.
    “I’m sorry.” Her fingers pat over her lips. Her gaze darts around the cabin as if she’s just coming to. “I have to go.” It comes from her amused rather than disheartened. She attempts to climb off my lap, and I gently secure her waist with my hands.
    “Don’t be sorry. Please, stay.” I glance down at our conjoined hips. “I promise, you have the best seat in the house.”
    An impish grin crops up on her lips. “I don’t doubt it. I also don’t doubt a lot of other truths about where you might like tonight to lead.” She carefully pries my hands off her waist until I’m holding them up in surrender. “I’m sorry. My head’s just all over the place.”
    A glimmer of tears glosses her eyes, and I feel like crap for even thinking about making her mine, fully mine in the biblical sense. For ages now I’ve felt as if Kennedy belonged to me, not in some materialistic sense, but in the soul mate, grafted over my heart, idealistic sense. Kennedy is a special woman, one who challenges the entire world and demands it pay attention to her. Of course, now, thanks to her lowlife of an ex, the world will be forced to pay attention to her in much more intimate ways. Damn pervert. My fist has an early morning meeting scheduled with his throat. I plan on jamming my hand down it for even thinking what he did was all right—or in any way just .
    “Don’t apologize.” I carefully place her on the sofa next to me. My dick is starting to tick to life, and any admission of empathy will be slighted by the hard-on ready to bloom in my jeans. “I should have been more sensitive. I’m the one who’s sorry.” I bear into her clear gray eyes a moment. “I’m