Julia blinks. “Um…hi?”
I shut the door behind me.
She’s changed out of her miniskirt and tank top combo that she had on at the party and is now wearing a faded Dickson sweatshirt that used to be mine instead. The one she claimed last year and refused to give back. Her hair’s loose and her feet bare, and her perfect legs are covered by her favorite pair of sleep shorts that have girlie fucking pink bows on them.
She looks like home and heartbreak and everything I’m trying not to feel, and my limbs are suddenly fifteen-thousand pounds. I get it, Eminem. My arms are also so, so heavy.
Fuck.
“You have a new boyfriend.” My words come back with rage.
Her head jerks back in surprise. “Excuse me?”
“Drew.” My jaw ticks. “He’s your boyfriend now.”
“Yeah, he is.” Her voice is soft but weighty, measured—filled with more than excitement and wonder, as I would expect. It’s almost…vengeful. It challenges me in a way I don’t understand and makes me angry at the same time.
I stalk toward her.
“What are you—”
And then—
I kiss her. I kiss her because I don’t want anyone else kissing her.
I kiss her because I want to erase the fucking kiss I saw that douchebag give her from her mouth and memory.
I kiss her because I’m angry and jealous and so far deep in fucking love with her that I can’tnotkiss her right now.
My hands are on her waist and her breath catches, but then, she’s kissing me right back.
Our lips and tongues dance against each other in ways I’ve only been able to feel in my dreams before this, and it’s as if everything I’ve been holding in—every look, every almost, every second of waiting—ignites all at once.
The kiss is not careful. And it’s not tentative. It’s acrash. A detonation. I swear, sparks and stars and gravity and the whole fucking earth shift under my feet.
A little moan escapes her lips and her fingers curl into my T-shirt and my heart slams against my ribs.
I don’t even know if I’m breathing. But I know she’s kissing me back.
And I know I’m not letting go.
Julia
I hardly remember opening the door. I barely remember confirming my newly coupled status.
But I know with my entire being that Ace Kelly iskissingme.
And I’m kissing him back.
It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet. It feels like years of tension exploding all at once. It feels like we’ve both been holding our breath and this is the moment we finally let go.
His hands are on my waist, then in my hair, then sliding across my back like he can’t decide where to touch me first, only that hehas totouch me. And I can’t stop touching him either—his shoulders, his jaw, the collar of his T-shirt that still smells like laundry detergent and some scent that’s just Ace.
I feel like I’m on fire—like if I stop kissing him, I’ll never breathe right again.
His hands are on my hips, and before I know it, my legs are wrapped around his waist and his big hands are cupping my ass and my back is pressed against the wall of my living room. And we keep kissing, our tongues dancing and our mouths crashing together like magnets.
A throb starts between my thighs, and I press myself tighter against him as soft moans escape my lungs. Ace is big and hard beneath his sweatpants. I canfeelit. I can feel his arousal pressing directly against my core. My eyes roll back a little as he continues to kiss me, and his lips paint a trail across my jaw and down my throat.
