Her best friend. The male she loved. The male she hadnever, not once, kissed in the five years that she’d loved him.
And he was drunk right now on Everton’s sweetened brandy, drunk because he’d learned of her engagement to another man.
Valerie knew he wouldn’t be kissing her otherwise. He’d had all the opportunities in the world to kiss her—when they’d been alone, in this very room, with sunlight streaming across the walls, as they spoke in whispered, low tones so no one else could hear them.
So why had he chosen to rightnow?
It felt right. So, so right and wonderful.
But it also felt wrong.
This wasn’t…this wasn’t what she wanted.
This wasn’t the right moment, not when they were angry and sad. Not when Dravka had only kissed her in the first place to quiet her words, words he didn’t want to hear.
Valerie broke the kiss, turning her head away.
Dravka’s hot breath fanned across her neck. He suckled and bit at the flesh underneath her jaw.
“Val,” he rasped into her skin.
Suddenly, she couldn’t meet his eyes.
“Put me down,” she whispered.
Dravka froze against her, though his lips were still pressed to her throat.
“Put me down, Dravka,” she repeated quietly. Overwhelming sadness overcame her. Kissing him would accomplish nothing. It would only make it hurt more.
It was a mistake.
This was a mistake.
“Please.”
Dravka lowered her back down to the floor and her legs released around him. Her knees felt a little wobbly. She kept her head ducked because he hadn’t moved away. He was still pressed against her. She could still feel the way his cock throbbed between them.
“I—I have to go,” Valerie told him, her voice sounding strangled and high to her own ears. She turned to the door, her forehead practically pressed against it as she fumbled for the handle.
“Val,” he rasped.
Her hand stilled when she felt his forehead come to rest on her shoulder. His arms came around her in an embrace, keeping her in place for long moments.
Silence descended between them. He only hugged her from behind, his head heavy. She felt his warm breath through the t-shirt she’d stolen from him.
“Please don’t,” he voiced. His tone was ragged and raw and husky.
Her eyebrows drew together, more tears beginning to well up in her eyes.
Please don’t…what?
Please don’t go?
Please don’t marry a stranger?
Please don’t try to help them?
Please don’t run away from him?
