I do the only thing I can do to shut my brain up.
To get this shit out of my system so that I can focus.
I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him.
Hard.
It’s not soft or gentle or anything remotely rational. It’s wild. It’s desperate. Opening a floodgate and letting every ache and craving and longing I’ve been trying to cage just rip through me.
Hayes stiffens for half a second, and then he’s kissing me back, anchoring me with both hands against my body, one palm splayed low over my back like he remembers exactly how to hold me. His other hand buries into the tangles of my hair, like he’s attempting to thread our bodies together with our tongues as the foundation chain.
I make a noise, half frustration, half need, and press closer. My fingers find the collar of his shirt, fisting the fabric, pulling him deeper into me. His tongue licks into my mouth, carrying with it the sweet taste of honey that seems to follow him wherever he steps.
I feel his hardened groin pressed to my pelvis. Feel his shivering body encasing mine as he bends me backward. He keeps me locked against him while I breathe the air he affords me, teeth clattering and lips swelling with the impact of our desire.
I need this. Needhim. The only thing that seems to be keeping me from flying apart is the feel of his mouth on mine.
Hayes groans softly against my lips, and the sound punches through my chest like a lightning bolt.
Everything is on fire now. My skin. My scent. My fucking heart. His scent wraps around me, attempting to hold me hostage, and I don’t fight it. I just stand on the tippiest of tiptoes just so I can smash myself closer.
Just so I can forget everything for a moment.
I don’t know how long we stand there, kissing as if we’re trying to undo years of silence and guilt and what-ifs with our mouths. But when I finally pull back for air, my breath is ragged, my hands are shaking, and his eyes…
His eyes are wrecked.
Dark. Wide. Stunned.
“Lo,” he says, hoarse.
He inhales deeply, his nostrils flaring.
I blink. Realizing. Too late.
Oh, shit.
I just kissed my best friend on my front porch like I’m the star of some melodramatic telenovela and this is my mid-season breakdown.
“Sorry,” I blurt, stepping back so fast I nearly trip over the first brick step. “That was… I didn’t mean…”
His gaze clears a bit. “You didn’t mean to?”
“No, I… I mean, yes, I did, but…”
My hands flail uselessly. My face isburning. I’m a mess.
He takes a breath, and I think he’s going to ask something, maybe everything, and I panic.
“I should go in,” I say before he can speak. “I need to… sleep. Or shower. Or maybe jump out a window.”
Hayes reaches out to stop me. Like he’s got a hundred questions lined up behind his teeth. But he doesn’t say a word.
He just nods. Once.
And I bolt up the steps before I can do something even dumber.
Like kiss him again.
