I immediately want to deny the accusation, but don’t, keeping quiet instead. It’s safer to let this play out, just to make sure. This isn’t something that can be done and then taken back. I’m not touching a stranger.
Aubrey is my everything. My best friend. Money, fame, baseball—I would give it all up for her.
So, I nod. I agree and cover my tongue in more bite marks when my fingers dance across her throat. Across the small indent at the base and up along the side, I feel her hot blood beneath the skin and the quick thrum of a pulse. She closes her eyes, her head tilting to the side as I swipe my thumb over where she’s throbbing and lower my head. My mouth drifts across her temple, hot breath fanning out.
“Tell me what to do,” I mutter.
Her fingers twitch around my wrist. “Kiss me again. Then we can put it to rest. It has to be you.”
“And if I don’t want to put it to rest?”
She pauses, staring at me like she doesn’t believe I’ve really asked that. Like the idea of me wanting to kiss her again doesn’t make sense. I almost laugh but think better of it.
“You seem so sure that I didn’t like what we did, Bree. But you’re wrong. It’s the only thing I’ve thought about this weekend. Knowing you were upset had me playing my worst game in seasons, but right now, I can’t find it in myself to care. Not when all I want is to pull you into my lap and kiss you the same way I did before you ran from me.”
Soft, slow blinks from black lashes answer me. My stomach twists and knots itself into a ball as I wait, my uneven breaths filling the space between us. Her hair tickles my jaw as I press closer and wet my lips.
“Tell me not to do exactly that,” I demand, warning.
“I can’t.”
This time, I kiss her first.
I grab her beneath both of her thighs and haul her onto my lap while our mouths touch, lips parting in sync. Her fingers dig into my hair and pull me closer while I run a hand up her spineand take her hair down. I toss her clip onto the couch and grip her curls at the roots, tugging just enough to get a reaction.
Her strangled moan fills my mouth, and I taste it on my tongue, tightening my grip on her thigh. It’s the first time I’ve heard a sound like that come from her. I want more. Need it.
The pressure in my groin intensifies when she lets her weight fall and our middles touch. Shocks travel up my core and wings out, electrifying me.
“Is this wrong? Does it feel like we should stop?” I ask roughly, unable to help myself.
She pinches my lip between her teeth and pulls, eyes snapping open just long enough to burn into mine. “No.”
That’s the end of it, then.
For tonight, this is us, and I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.
24
An experiment.That’s what this was supposed to be.
I blame Brielle for this ridiculous idea.
Finn could never, ever be an experiment for me. Not in the way I need him to be right now.
He runs his hands over me like he knows every single pleasure point on my body. The euphoria that pumps through my veins could never be disguised as anything else. I’m helpless to reciprocate, unable to keep my palms from gliding up beneath his thin T-shirt and over the defined ridges of his toned stomach. I count each one before expanding my exploration out to his shoulders and the round, bulging biceps I’ve caught myself staring at more times than I will ever admit to anyone, let alone him.
His fingers dig into the meat of my thighs, and I take that as a good sign. Each word he spoke repeats in my mind, trying to convince me that he’s as into this as I am, but after so long . . . it’s hard to believe that. The change is new, but not sudden. At least not to me.
Brielle wasn’t exactly right when she said all friendships like ours turn out like this, but maybe I’ve been so damn naïve, so blind, that I didn’t see the signs as they were flashing. Or I couldbe confused. Either way, this is what we need. I need this right here more than I’ve needed much of anything else in the last few months. Maybe even the last year.
“Can I try something?” he asks, his gravelly tone doing more to convince me how much he likes this than anything he could have said.
“Yes.”
I barely have a chance to stabilize myself when he uses his hold on me to jerk me forward. Our middles connect, and my lips part around a jagged breath when I feel the shape of him beneath me, already hard and thick. My eyes latch onto his, and I force them to stay open when the pressure shifts when he rolls his hips upward against me.
“Fuck,” he groans, bringing a hand to the back of my head, then to my nape, squeezing. “How’s that?”
