Barely able to break the kiss, Chase took my hands from his shoulders and pulled me out of the living room, into the hall. For a second, I pressed him up against the wall and we got lost in the kiss again. My skin sizzled with desire, tingling wherever we touched. My breath came quickly. My knees wanted to give out. I couldn't stop touching him.
Chase flipped me around and kissed me again. I gripped his shoulders and gasped, tempted to wrap my legs around his waist right there—and I might have done it, except suddenly, at the end of the hall, a door opened and a half-asleep guy stumbled out of the bunkroom to the shared bathroom.
Chase and I both froze. "Your bedroom. Now," he whispered in my ear, but I didn't move. In my head were visions of all the ways we would be forced to be careful. To be quiet. The ways we could be interrupted without warning. And I grieved. I didn't want this to be a stolen moment. I wanted to enjoy Chase, this new and amazing bond.
