It takes me a minute to get my words together. “Do you not trust me?”
“What?” He’s confused, but I don’t know why he’s not getting it.
“I told you I won’t ruin the friendship. I won’t let that happen. You should trust me.”
“I do. I’m just scared.”
“I’m not other homophobic dudes. I’m not insecure.”
“You’re right. I should trust you.”
“Admittedly, I know I am doing this for horrible reasons, but I’d never do that to you!”
He cracks a smile. “We’re both a little horrible, so it works well.”
“Can I have a hug?” I open my arms, needing the physical reassurance of him. I should be able to go a week without sex. I don’t know what my fucking problem is or why I’m needy all of a sudden. I slip my hand around his lower back, where his tee is riding up. Skin touching skin.
I need this.
“Are you going to be able to handle more of this?”
“What do you mean?”
“Tomorrow. The wedding.” I keep to the point.
“You can trust me, too, Wolfe. I’ll get my head out of my ass.” He really must not be into me to be this awkward.
Who hasn’t kissed someone they weren’t entirely in to? It’s never been this weird. Am I that much of a turnoff? That can’t be it…maybe just because we’re so close and he’ll have to be vulnerable?
That has to be it. I’m a fucking catch.
I slide a finger under his chin. “We don’t have to do this. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
“I’m not uncomfortable. Just nervous. This goes against everything I’ve been taught.”
“Your family is shit.” I’m even more annoyed.
“It’s not just them. It’s hockey. And all of the toxic culture. So yeah, I didn’t trust you, and I should have.” He lifts his gaze, finally opening up.
I don’t want to move or let go of him.
“Just promise me none of this will change anything?” he asks when we release each other.
“I told you it wouldn’t. It’s not going to.”
“Good. I’m not losing you.” He stares at his feet and is still off. “Kiss me again so I can not be so fucking weird this time.”
I grin, tilting his face up with a finger. “I will, but you don’t deserve it.”
“I know I don’t.” His eyes fall closed as he speaks, and his full lips remain parted ever so slightly.
He’s got great blow job lips, and I don’t know why that comes to mind as I’m about to kiss him. I ignore it and lean in, inhaling a breath of him before finally connecting. Our tongues slide together and he groans into my mouth. We fit together,and it’s just like the closeness we already share, but better, more connected.
He digs his fingers into the back of my head, pressing his body against mine, taking over I catch up quickly, sliding my fingers around his nape. He tastes like vodka, but under it there’s the tea he likes to drink, and honey. Kissing him is so much easier than I thought it would be.
His stubble burns the edges of my lips, and I chase the intensity of it. He’s intoxicating and my body reacts to it more than I thought it would.
My lips ache, and I realize Archangel is wrong about one thing: kissing him is nothing like kissing a woman. It’s intense, and challenging, hard where women are soft. It’s equal in a way I’d never thought sex could be.
