His fingers skim my skin, soft and ardent as they press into the small of my back. He fumbles a little at the clasp of my bra, and I laugh against his mouth.
"I thought you had tons of practice with this kind of stuff," I tease, the sound breathy.
Brooks silences me with another kiss, catching my bottom lip between his teeth before sucking it gently. Then, his tongue traces a deliberate, teasing path before he lets it go.
"You make me nervous," he murmurs.
The words hit harder than I expect. My heart pounds faster. Something unravels in me. No one’s ever said that to me before.
Nervous.Imakehimnervous.
I should stop this right now. I should climb out of his lap, put my shirt back on, and draw the line we're blurring with every breath.
Brooks might have taken other girls down these back roads before, but this? This isn't that. I'm notthem, and he's notjustsome guy. He's Brooks. Jasper's best friend. The one who couldn't get out of the lake on the Fourth of July because I wore a red bikini and ruined him for the entire day. The one who broke up with Mitsy the second I called him out. The one who says I make him nervous.
So, when he finally unhooks my bra, carefully sliding the straps down my arms, I should be pulling away.
Instead, I breathe him in.
His lips stay on mine, slow and searching, while his hands explore—tentative, steady—as if he's asking permission with every brush of his fingers. It's been a long time since I've let anyone see me like this. Touch me like this. And even then, it never felt this... exposed. This real.
With Brooks, the warning bells are deafening, but I don't listen. I can't. Because with every kiss, every graze of his palm, I'm falling deeper. Not just into him, but into thisthingwe've been dancing around since the second I got home.
His hands close around my breasts, his thumbs brushing my nipples until they pebble beneath his touch, and I gasp into his mouth, my whole body arching toward him.
But just when I think he's going to give in, when I think we're both going to stop pretending that this is just heat and not something more, he pulls away with a long, ragged breath.
"Five minutes is up," he says quietly.
Disappointment punches the air from my lungs.
"We don't have to stop," I whisper, each word laced with ache.
Brooks leans in and kisses me again, slower this time, gentler. "There's no rush, Ellie."
And somehow, that wrecks me more than if he'd kept going.
"What if I don't want to stop, Brooks?" I whisper.
He nods, slow and serious. "I never said I wanted to."
But we should stop. Because this is Jasper's best friend. And he said he still feels things for me. Things I'm not sure I'm ready to dig into.
"It's been a long time since I've done something like this," he admits as he helps me back into my bra.
I look at him, really look at him. "Remind you of high school?"
He nods, amused. "You?"
I shrug. "Maybe."
When I'm back in the passenger's seat, he leans over and kisses me again. The kind of kiss that tells me this isn't just about lust. It's about everything that's been building between us, piece by piece.
He finally pulls away. "Let's get you home, Ellie."
I slump into the passenger seat, my hands still trembling. "Or," I tease, "we could wait five minutes and do that again."
Brooks casts me a wicked look. "Five more minutes and we would've needed that condom."
