Jumping slightly, I look away from his spotless, open-concept kitchen and up at him.
“Hey,” I say, leaning back against his front door.
“You’re nervous,” he says. Not a question.
I consider denying it. Consider flashing my boobs to distract him. In the end, I sigh. “Maybe.”
He looks at me for a moment before reaching down to grab the hand that isn’t clutching my mammoth bag of popcorn. At his touch, my shoulders melt.
“We don’t have to do anything tonight if you don’t want to. We could watch a movie, or I could walk you back to your car.”
He says this so earnestly, it would be a shame to laugh in his pretty face.
“No, that’s not it. I definitely want—” I stop, toes curling under my feet.
His thumb strokes down mine. “Then what is it?”
I wince. “It’s just… are we doing the right thing?”
He takes a slow breath. Runs a heavy palm over his still-damp hair. “When it comes to right or wrong, there’s no ‘we’ in this, Gracie. You haven’t done anything wrong. But I…” He exhales. “No. I’m definitely not doing the right thing.”
My heart sinks.
“Because of Henry?” I ask, my voice little more than a whisper.
He nods. “He’s a big part of it.”
“I ended things with him this week, but I didn’t mention you.” I hesitate. “Have you talked to him?”
He shakes his head, guilt etching creases around his eyes. “He keeps avoiding my calls, and it’s not something I want to tell him over text. But I’m meeting him for lunch this week.”
My throat moves in a dry swallow. “And you’re going to tell him about us then?”
“Yeah,” he says softly but decisively. “He deserves the truth, and you don’t deserve to be kept like a secret.”
My heart flips over, beating upside down. “And you don’t think we should stop this?” I say as his hand lets go of mine to trace up my arm.
His eyes close briefly. “I definitely think we should stop this,” he says, and my disappointment is a physical weight in my stomach. But then he shifts closer. “I just don’t think I can.” My breath hitches as his eyes find mine, blown out and hungry. “Do you want me to stop, Gracie?”
It’s wrong—for a thousand reasons, I know this is wrong. Jude and I are tied up in a bargain that could end disastrously, andnothingabout this feels casual. But if I just keep telling myself this is meaningless, then I can ignore how loudly my heart is shouting the wordLiar.
Breathless, I shake my head. “No. I don’t want to stop. I want—” But I can’t say it. Can barely look at the dark cotton strained across his chest, much less his face.
He tips my chin up, forcing me to look at him anyway. “Tell me.”
At his order, the bones of my knees turn to water, and the words are out before I can stop them. “I want to kiss you. I always want to kiss you.”
It comes out petulant, but I think he understands how frustrating it is to be completely consumed by the thought of someone else’s mouth. He moves in slowly, his hard thigh pressing between mine until I’m forced onto my tiptoes, back against the door. His thumb sweeps over my bottom lip, tugging it down until I’m openmouthed and squirming.
“That’s it?” he asks, his soft voice in complete contrast to how firmly he’s pinned me. “Just a kiss?”
I try nodding, but his grip on my chin is tight. I never want him to let go. When he lowers his mouth to mine, the moan that escapes me is too loud for just a kiss. I flush hot with embarrassment, but then his tongue is pressing into my mouth, slow and decadent, and I moan all over again. When his hands grab my hips, angling mejust right against his thigh, I drop the bag of popcorn and hear it scatter everywhere. But I don’t care—can’t think at all when he starts working me against him, my skirt rising like mercury in a thermometer.
“Are you sure that’s all you want?” he asks, breaking away to stare down at me. His grip tightens, stopping my needy movements.
“No,” I pant, as whatever shreds of hesitation I felt before go up in greedy flames.
“Then what,” he asks, pressing me harder against him, “do youwant?”
