Page 65 of When the Smoke Clears

If she knows, why doesn’t she move? Why don’t I?

“But there’s a lot we can do that’s not sex.” She brushes her nose against mine. “Remember?”

Of course, I remember all the things we did that weren’t sex.

“It’s against house rules,” I whisper, moving my head a fraction so our lips brush like our noses.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” She pecks at my bottom lip.

“Everleigh,” I warn, but not without lifting my chin so she either has to back away or kiss me.

She chooses the latter. And fuck my pathetic lack of control for kissing her for the second time in one day. Her hand disappears from my back and moves to my face, framing it while she opens her mouth to let my tongue sweep inside it.

I grip her waist as she throws her leg over my lap to straddle me. What are we doing? This won’t end well, and that’s our destiny.

I know it.

She should know it.

Still, I kiss her and snake my hand up the back of her shirt to unhook her bra. We’re not having sex, but as long as she’s this close, I might as well check out her new boobs. Only she’s not wearing a bra, and as I make that discovery, an unrecognizable groan vibrates my chest.

Is it just this easy? All I have to do is move my hands under her arms, and I can have her fantastic new tits in my palms?

Don’t do it!

My common sense pleads with the jumbled mess of thoughts swirling around in my head. Can I stop at second base?

I’m about to find out as I palm her designer breasts. She pulls back just enough to take a hard inhale when I pinch her nipples. On a heavy blink, she drags the pad of her thumb across my lower lip before sucking it into her mouth and teasing it with her teeth.

We’re breaking the rules. My rules.

We should stop. I should stop.

“Good night,” she whispers over my lips before crawling off my lap.

My hands attempt to stop her by squeezing her breasts. That makes her grin bloom into something victorious, like this is a game, and she just scored points.

I adjust my erection with one hand while my other rakes through my hair. “Jesus, we have to stop doing this,” I say more to myself than to her.

“Why?” Everleigh asks, righting her shirt. “Are you not a fan of my new breasts?”

“Don’t play stupid,” I say, reaching for the controller.

“Just to be clear.” She folds her hands behind her. “You don’t like it when I shrink you. But you also don’t like it when I play stupid. William, I’m trying my best to find middle ground with you, but I think you might be stuck in a cycle of self-sabotage.” Her lips twist.

I find a new game to focus on until she gives up and leaves me alone.

“If I recall correctly (and full disclosure, I have an excellent memory), you told me to make some fucking mistakes. Get a speeding ticket. Stop worrying about what other people think. Drop my panties for a stranger in the bathroom of a bar. And stop trying to live up to anyone else’s expectations. What if you took your own advice?”

“As you have so kindly pointed out, Everleigh,” I grit through my teeth, “I’m older than you, so while you were popping your zits, I was making all the fucking mistakes. Speaking of recalling things, my excellent memory hasn’t forgotten the time I fucked a seventeen-year-old.”

When she doesn’t respond, I risk a quick glance at her. She swallows. Did I go too far?

“Are you going to cry?” I refocus on the game.

“No. Are you?”

I scoff. “Why would I cry?”