She sat on the coffee table between his knees and dipped her fingers into the bowl. Technically, Cara should use a brush, but she wasn’t going to give up the chance to touch him.
“This won’t hurt a bit,” she said solemnly, as she leaned forward. His eyes fell to her chest again, and Cara’s pulse beat frantically through her veins. Desire, hot and fierce, flowed through her.
Wes shifted his seat a little. “You’ve got… there’s a little…” He cleared his throat and gestured at her chest. “Something.”
Cara looked down and saw that she had gotten some of the mask on the loose neck of her tank top. A flush spread its way down her chest. She wasn’t the only one breathing a little harder.
With her clean hand, Cara wiped at the mask mixture that had landed on her top. “Occupational hazard,” she murmured, her nipples tightening at his strained expression.
This is a bad idea. I need to stop.
What had begun as a silly game was now escalating to dangerous levels.
We’re roommates. Friends. Buddies.
She repeated the mantra to herself even as she smoothed her fingers over his face, smearing the mixture. She made quick work of covering his forehead, but her fingers slowed as they traced his cheekbones and then trailed lower to his jaw.
His pulse was visible at the base of his throat, and she knew that he was just as affected as she was. It fluttered against her fingertips as she stroked a thin layer over it. Heat pooled low in her belly, and her own heart threatened to burst from her chest. Cara squeezed her thighs together as the sensations grew stronger.
He was so close. She could smell the spearmint of his breath and see the light gold band around his irises. His pupils darkened, and she couldn’t look away.
Cara’s breath hitched and her gaze fell to his mouth. Slowly she dragged her thumb against his lower lip, fascinated by the movement. Wes was so still she thought he might be holding his breath. Her gaze fell to his lap, his arousal clearly evident.
Slowly she leaned back, breaking the connection. She was flushed, feverish, every nerve ending on fire.
Too far. She’d gone too far.
“I—I got some on your…” She held up her thumb to show a tiny fleck of pineapple. “It’s not good for your lips.”
Cara rose under the guise of putting the mask away, but in reality, they both needed the distance. She turned her back and tried to get her body under control again. She washed her hands for too long under the cool water of the faucet, but it did little to help.
She felt like she was on fire.
“Is it supposed to sting like this?”
Cara closed her eyes and braced her hands against the counter. He sounded normal, whereas basic lust still throbbed in her veins.
“Um, yeah. It’s the enzyme in the pineapple.”
“What’s that do?”
She appreciated his attempt to inject a sense of normalcy. One of them had to be the adult, and it clearly wasn’t going to be her sex-starved self. They lived together. If they gave in to their attraction, it would ruin everything. Cara knew she was developing feelings for him, but Wes would end up resenting her… She wasn’t the one he wanted.
Cara rinsed the bowl and the other utensils, consciously relaxing the muscles in her body and focusing on her breath until it was slow and even.
“It eats your dead skin cells.” When she turned back around, her smile was easy again. Nothing like dead skin cells to kill the mood.
“Uh. Ow.” His face contorted in discomfort.
“It’s not that bad. If it’s stinging, it’s working. On a scale of one to ten, what would you say?”
“Like a nine?”
Cara grabbed a dishcloth and put it under the faucet. “That’s not good. You might be having a reaction. Let me get it off.”
“I’m just kidding. It’s maybe a two.” He grinned at her, bits of the mask dropping into his lap.
“You are the worst,” she said throwing the cloth at him, but there was no anger behind the words. “You have about ten more minutes if you can bear it.”
