He takes a slow, deep breath. “You look beautiful tonight. I wanted to kiss you. It just… It happened.” He doesn’t take his eyes off me, devouring me with his gaze and sending a wave of heat from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
I must be imagining this. There’s no way he’s looking at me with any real passion. He couldn’t.
Everything feels different. The air seems more charged. The tension between us is strong. My emotions are running out of control. I ball my hands into fists, refusing to glance in his direction as I stomp extra hard for dramatic effect while I feel his eyes intently following my every move. Waiting for me to react. Say something. Do anything to break the awkward, lingering silence.
I relent, letting out a deep sigh and abruptly stopping. “None of this makes any sense,” I say. My shoulders slump, tears form at the corner of my eyes, and unease grows about what this might mean for us. “Why would you risk our friendship over a meaningless kiss?”
The truth hits me smack in the chest as soon as those words leave my mouth.The kiss wasn’t meaningless. At least, not to me.
Jake flinches, his smile falters, and then quickly recovers. “Is that what you think? That kissing you meantnothingto me?”
“Yes. No. Ugh. I don’t know.” I throw my head back, looking at the starlit sky for an answer to the question I’m afraid to ask—whether he might see me as more than a friend. I shake my head, hoping to knock the ridiculous thought out of my mind. There’s no way we could be more than friends. He could never have any romantic feelings toward me. That would be crazy.
He walks slowly over to me until he’s only a few inches away from my face. “Let me be clear. Kissing you would never be inconsequential,” he whispers, his breath warm against my face. “I would never take it for granted. I’d cherish every moment your lips touched mine. And I’m eager to do it again, Kate.”
My mouth parts slightly, my breath hitching as a fire ignites within me. “Youmeantto kiss me?”
“Yes. I’ll do it again right now if you’ll let me,” he murmurs, the back of his hand grazing my cheek. “If this is what you want, too.”
There’s a moment of charged silence between us. Both of us know how I answer could change everything and turn one innocent kiss into something more.
The bonfire crackles, casting a glow around us that seems fitting for the indescribable heat building inside me. Ishouldn’twant to kiss him. Itwouldn’tbe smart to kiss him. We just got our friendship back on track. My engagement ended a week ago. And there are probably countless other reasons this is a horrible idea, but I don’t bother to utter any of them.
“Yes,” I answer, barely above a whisper.
He inhales sharply, eyes wide, as if he can’t believe what he heard. Then something in him snaps, and his lips crash into mine. Everything within me roars to life, unlocking an intense desire for him that I didn’t know existed. Consuming me. Mind. Body. Soul.
“Fuck, Kate,” he pants, resting our foreheads together as his chest thumps against mine. “I could kiss you every day for the rest of my life and it would never be enough.”
I gasp. My chest is heaving, too, my heart pounding from the aftereffects of the best kiss of my life. And he wants to kiss meforever. He can’t possibly mean that, not after one night. I take a step back, needing to put both physical and emotional distance between us, so my brain can process what’s happened. How I feel. What it means. Everything that is impossible to do when his lips are on mine, or when his body touches me, or the warmth of his breath brushes against my skin.
“Talk to me, Kate. What’s going on in your head?” Jake steps toward me, and I instinctively take one back. “Are you…” He gulps. “Are you regretting this? Do you regret me kissing you?” His eyes are full of concern and torment, and there’s distress in his voice.
I turn my head and look down, needing a second to compose my thoughts. Iwantedhim to kiss me. There’s no question in mymind. It’s just the timing of it. The complexity of what it might mean for our friendship. The reality of our very different lives.
How could any of this work?
Great. Now I’m spiraling.
I sigh, continuing to stare at the ground. I can’t look at him if I want to get these next words out. “I had the best kiss of my life, thanks to you. I could never regret it. It’s the extenuating factors that scare me. Our friendship. The timing. Our different lives.” I blow out a deep breath, finally raising my head to look him in the eyes. “I need time to figure out what this could mean for me. Forus.”
“I can give you all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere, Kate.” He closes the distance between us, lifting my chin with his finger. “But know this,I want you. As more than a friend. And I’m willing to wait however long it takes until you’re ready.” He places a soft kiss on my forehead.
“Okay. We’ll be friends. For now,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around him and leaning my head against his chest.
“For now,” he replies with a firmness in his voice, making it clear that what happened between us tonight is far from over.
thirty-seven
All night,I toss and turn, unable to fall asleep. My mind is consumed by the kiss with Jake. How his lips felt against mine. What it means. What I want.
Jake claims to be confident about his intentions and what he’s hoping will blossom between us. At least, that’s what he said in the heat of the moment. I worry those feelings will change or disappear once he’s thinking clearly. When he considers how different we are. How incompatible our career goals are. What others might think about the two of us becoming a couple. The rumors. The attention it’ll bring to his private life. He could quickly decide that a potential relationship with me isn’t worth the hassle. And I wouldn’t blame him. Everything would be easier if we remained friends.
Or we could jump. Listen to our hearts to see where this takes us.
I groan, pulling my comforter over my head, realizing it’s not only my body that wants him—my heart does, too. When did that happen? How did some switch get flipped to take me from viewing him as a platonic friend to wanting to tear his clothes off?
Fuck. Are my raging hormones driving this?
