One second I’m laughing, the next I’m on my back with August half sprawled on me. He rests his weight on his elbows at either side of my head, a satisfied grin spreading over his face. “That’s enough out of you, Miss Morrow.”
Breathless, I stare up at him. He’s been touching me moreand more since that rainy night we reconnected. The entire Luck family is physically affectionate. But August has never been with me before. That alone would have me disoriented by this new closeness.
But the truth is more concerning. Because I had no idea how good it would feel to be held snug beneath his body. Good lord, he just does it for me. Base lust swirls alongside drowsy pleasure. I don’t know what I want to do more: push against him and feel that prime body or simply melt into the furniture with a sigh.
I settle for narrowing my eyes up at him and pretending my heart isn’t trying to thump its way free of my chest. He must feel it, though. God knows, I feelhim—hard and pulsing with restrained energy. I don’tthinkI make a greedy noise of want, but Imighthave.
August adjusts his position just enough to slide his thick thigh in between my splayed ones. The move sends little devils of heat dancing in my core. He grunts, a soft rumble of sound, and his gaze moves over my face. Everything slows and tightens.
“You know,” he says almost conversationally. “We could practice kissing.”
“Practice?” My head’s gone all floaty.
The tone of his voice deepens. “So it seems natural when we do it in public. Your first game day appearance is this Sunday.”
Is it? I can’t think. He’s so close now, all I see is him. The diamond-bright beauty of his sculpted features, the hot gleam in his eyes. His lips look both firm and soft. I want to know which. He smells delicious, of berries and August.
Kiss him?
He dips his head closer. A lock of his hair brushes the crest of my cheek. The light touch might as well be a brand. I feel it all along my skin, in the sensitive nerves of my lips.
The blunt tip of his thumb skims along the underside of my wrist as though to soothe. It sends tiny shivers of pleasure along my skin.
Kiss him.
For practice.
That last bit catches hold just before his mouth brushes mine. My breath hitches. Instinctively, I press deeper into the couch cushion, away from him. He feels the change and halts, lifting his head enough to meet me gaze.
“I... ah...” My voice croaks, and I clear it. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
Lies! Take it back!
But I can’t. He’s already easing away. I scramble to get out from under him. A frown mars his face as he watches me fumble my way to standing, and then gracefully stands himself.
“I’m sorry, Pen,” he says slowly, troubled. “I didn’t mean to make it awkward for you.”
“You didn’t. I mean... I can see the... ah, merit of the idea.” I run a shaking hand through the tumbled mess of my hair. “I just think it might confuse things, and perhaps it’s best to keep our... performance to only on game day.” I swallow hard. “So to speak.”
There. That wasn’t an awkward word salad atall.
Hands loosely braced low on his hips, August stares at me for a second like he’s deliberating what to say. But then he takes a breath and offers a relaxed smile. “Of course, Pen. Whatever you want.”
Seventeen
Pen
Whatever you want.
Ha! As if I have the mental capacity to know what I want when I’m aroundhim.Because I don’t. I really freaking don’t.
Case in point? I’ve had a whole night to erase it and still can’t get that near kiss out of my mind. Or refrain from kicking my own ass for halting it. What a noob I’d been. I had August sprawled over my body, ready to kiss the hell out of me—and I know enough to realize that he would have; the man does everything well. And I said no!
Because you wouldn’t have been able to fake it.
With a sigh, I sit on my bed and bite at a ragged nail. If he’d kissed me then, I’d have lost the tenuous hold I have on pretending I don’t want August in all ways. I’m not that good an actor. If he had just kissed me, I’d have yielded without pause. But he said it himself: It was for practice. And, no, August, that’s not what I want. I cannot kiss him in private while knowing that it isn’t real.
Shoving to my feet, I will myself to forget about kissing under false pretenses and focus on packing my stuff.
