I should’ve told her I’d delete the picture in exchange for her father’s secrets.
But instead, my mouth—completely disconnected from my better judgment—said, “I want you to kiss me. And not just some fucking peck. I want you to kiss me and mean it.”
A beat passed. Her big, brown eyes flickered with something I couldn’t name. I wished I could read her thoughts.
“Why?”
“I want to know something.” I dragged my thumb over her bottom lip. “Do these taste like berries?”
The way she looked at me told me she thought I was insane.
If I was, it was her fault.
Her lip gloss sat inside my pocket. Had she noticed it had gone missing? I wondered if she'd realized I'd taken it, and what she thought it meant.
Maybe she could enlighten me, because fuck if I knew.
Her tongue darted out to swipe over her bottom lip. “If I kiss you, you’ll give me the code?”
“It’s a deal.” I was so fucking angry with myself for giving into this irrational urge I wanted to punch a wall.
She thought about it for another few moments.
“Hurry up,” I snapped. “The offer won’t be there forever.”
Her gaze narrowed. “There’s something wrong with you.”
“Now you’re getting it.”
“Fine.” Her palm curled around the back of my neck. “One kiss.”
“Make it count.”
She leaned in. “Stop talking.”
I groaned when she slid an inch forward, pressing down onto my cock.
A shiver ran through her. She was close enough that I could see each individual speck of glitter dusted across her cheekbones.
Her lips parted?—
REEEE! REEE! REEE!
I jolted. “What the fuck is that?”
Mia let out a startled breath and practically leapt off me. “It’s my stepmom calling.” She scrambled for her purse.
I dragged my palm over my face. One more minute was all I'd needed.
She picked up. “Hello?” Her voice was tight. “Is everything okay?”
I sat up, adjusting myself. She was finally far enough from me for my mind to clear. I hadn’t been thinking with my head—not the right one, at least.
“What do you mean? How bad is it?”
My brows furrowed. Something was wrong.
Mia chewed on her fingernail, nodding along to whatever was being said. “Jenny’s not picking up?” A breath of frustration. “Crap. Okay. I’ll head back.”
