Then it’s his turn to push me.
My back hits the wall next to the fridge. Coldness rushes through me as if I really jumped into the freezing waters of Lake Champlain.
What have I been thinking? I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t—
Nate stalks forward, and I don’t have the time to scramble together an apology, because he presses his body against mine.
I’m taller, but frozen in shock, so that Nate easily pins me to the wall. He fixes the difference in height by curling his fingers in my shirt, then pulls me down into another kiss.
I don’t lose another moment wondering what’s come over my best friend, I just tilt my head into the contact. My hands are moving of their own accord, one tangling in Nate’s hair again, the other wrapping around his waist.
He’s clutching at my shirt like there’s any chance I might run off. His other hand fumbles at my side to find a way under the jersey.
I tear my mouth free with a gasp as his fingers slide over my bare skin, hot enough to leave a trail of burns. Nate is quick to take advantage of my bared neck, his lips brushing along my pulse.
“Fuck,” I groan, breathless. “Nate!”
The incredible head-spinning feeling of his tongue against my throat is interrupted by my intestines twisting into a knot.
This isNateI’m making out with.
“...stop,” I breathe, silently cursing myself. This is not the time to apply for being named the patron saint of self-control. Another sobering breath and I manage to wrap my hand around his wrist and drag it out from under my shirt.
“Nate, stop,” I repeat, finally managing to say the words clearly enough to get his attention.
His mouth vanishes from my neck.
The sudden cold he leaves behind causes goosebumps to crawl down my back. There’s also the realization that I actually have to say something, which mixes badly with the misguided arousal that is swirling around in the pit of my stomach.
“We should...we should talk about this.”
He stares at me, suddenly wide-eyed. I’m immediately at a loss of how to continue. I don’twantto talk about this. If this is a lapse in judgment on his part, I’m irresponsible enough right now to…let it go.
But I’d hate myself tomorrow morning. Whatever just happened, he’s my best friend.
Nate tears his hand free of my grip, and his head swivels around like he’s forgotten where we are.
Alexander Hart, patron saint of self-control and ruining friendships.
“Holy shit,” he mutters under his breath, both hands going up to push his hair back from where I mussed it.
“It’s…it’s fine. Nothing happened, we’ll simply…forget about it,” my voice cracks as I say the words out loud. I’m just as guilty in this, but I’m sure I’ll snap out of whatever craze has come over me tonight—and the past week. I have to.
The part of me that wants the complete opposite of what I’m saying, that wants to pull him back against me and beg him to please tell me I’m not the only crazy one here, that part needs to shut up. Nate is too important to ruin it over whatever hormones are making me nuts.
He still hasn’t said anything, so I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
He shakes it off immediately.His sudden movement swipes the empty glass from the counter. It shatters against the floor, making both of us jump. Nate’s head whips around, eyes fixating on the door, and my stomach sinks.
He’s worried that someone could see us.
I open my mouth again, but before I can say anything, Nate turns and bolts from the kitchen. The door swings wildly, and I hear someone shout about almost being hit. Then it slowly shuts again.
Snakes are writhing in my stomach, the taste of pumpkin beer suddenly sour where it’s lingering in my mouth.
“Shit,” I bury my head in my hands, slumping over the counter. I’d run after him if I thought it would help, but I’m pretty sure that I’m the last person he wants to see right now.
I don’t know if I want to see him either. Definitely not while I can still feel an echo of his body pressing against my own, the tingle of his mouth against my neck, the sting of his teeth on my lip.
