Crave (Harlequin Teen)

expected. Maybe because he pushed with his feet to help.
    As soon as I got him to the grass, my feet slipped on the wet ground. I landed on my butt. Good enough. I cradled his head in my lap. “Is this better?”
    He nodded, spread his hands palm down on the grass and closed his eyes.
    Prickling began along my neck and down my arms, faint at first, then growing more intense by the second.
    “Ow,” I gasped, rubbing my arms. It felt like a swarm of fire ants were attacking me.
    “Sorry,” he mumbled with a tired smile. “Had to get some energy.”
    “That’s…you?”
    He nodded.
    “Oh. It’s okay, then, keep going.”
    The prickling returned, grew, sharpened to tiny needles stabbing me all over. I knew what a pincushion felt like now. Gritting my teeth, I fought back a whimper. It would be over soon. Surely just a little longer…
    He rolled up halfway, and the sensation stopped as if he’d hit a switch. Twin handprints of burned grass marked where his hands had just been. He turned toward me and cupped my cheek, his thumb stroking away tears I hadn’t realized I’d cried. “I’m okay now, Sav. Sorry about that. Is Dylan gone?”
    I nodded, leaning into his hand. I was just relieved that he was okay.
    “Did he get the memory card? I dropped it around here somewhere.”
    I looked around us, but in the dark I couldn’t see anything. “I don’t know. I can’t see it.”
    He cursed. “I should have held on to it—”
    “He was hitting you. Don’t worry about it.” Gripping his wrist near my face, I closed my eyes. “You’re okay. That’s all I care about right now.” I sighed through my nose then froze as my stomach grumbled. Something smelled good. Maybe it was Tristan’s cologne.
    “Are you wearing a new cologne today?” I said, drawing in more of the overwhelming scent.
    “Uh, no.” He sounded a little amused.
    “Wow, you smell good.”
    “Oh, no, no more kisses tonight. That’s what got us in this mess.”
    I should be upset at his words. But all I could focus on was how good he smelled. He seemed positively…lickable. I turned my face toward his hand still on my cheek, and the luscious scent intensified, making me want to moan.
    I reached up to hold his hand and studied it. “Ouch. Your knuckles are bleeding.”
    “Yeah, I busted them on his face. Obviously not often enough, though. Listen, if he did find the memory card, I don’t think he’ll really send those pics to your family. His problem is with me, not you. He just likes to play head games…”
    His voice faded away along with all other sounds except the solid, strong thud of his heart.
    I brought his wounded fingers to my mouth and kissed a scraped knuckle. And the single most intoxicating, mind-numbing, soul-shattering flavor exploded across my tongue.
    It was like red velvet cake, chocolate meringue pie, rocky-road ice cream and apple pie à la mode combined. But better. A million times better. I could live on this flavor for the rest of my life and die happy. I kissed the next knuckle on his hand, and the flavor filled me again, just a sip of pure heaven to tease and tantalize and drive me mad with need for more.
    I could sell my soul without hesitation for a cupful of this taste.
    “Savannah? Savannah!” Tristan pulled his hand from my grasp, and I nearly wept, the loss was that intense. The scent faded away, the taste on my tongue fast following it.
    Despair swamped me, and I buried my face in my hands in an effort to hold it in. It was either that or scream from the emotion. I pulled in long breaths of clean air to clear my system of the druglike effects. But I couldn’t clear out the memory of that smell, that taste on my tongue.
    Slowly, reason seeped back in until I couldn’t understand why I’d lost control in the first place. The memory was still there, but not the emotions, allowing me to think again.
    What in the world had just happened?
    “Savannah, are you okay?”
    Was I? I’d kissed his wounded hand, and then…
    I glanced at his hand, at his bloody knuckles. The taste in my mouth, surely it couldn’t be…
    A bead of blood still shone on his split lip. Unable to believe I was really doing it, I reached up, stroked a thumb over that glistening spot, then brought my thumb to my mouth. And like before, that same scent and taste filled my nose and mouth, drowning out every other sense, hollowing me out so nothing was left to take up room inside me. Clearing away everything I was, so only the