Page 56 of Lessons in Lemonade

“You sure about this?” his gravelly voice asks, giving me what feels like one last out. His hands clench at his sides; he wants to put them on me, and I need to feel them too.

“Seems pointless to stop now, don’t you think?” I look up into his chocolate eyes and get lost.

“Just checking, because once I put my mouth on you, it’s game over.” He issues his warning, and I can’t help but smirk in return.

“I’m pretty sure I’ll be the one winning this game,” I tell him, and he groans.

Leaning toward me, his hand slips behind my head, and with the self-assurance only someone like Jack can possess, he lowers his lips to mine as if it’s something we’ve done every day for years.

One of my hands falls to his chest, landing over his heart, and the other grips his waist as he takes the final step, closing the distance between us. He’s so much taller than I am, and that impressive hard length of his flattens against my stomach.

Unlike this morning, he slowly takes his time exploring, learning, and then coaxing my lips open. I freely allow him to take control as his tongue again tangles with mine, and the restraint he’s been exercising slips away, now bordering on desperation.

Delicious. It’s the only word that comes to mind. Well, that’s not true—mine floats at the peripheral, too, but I don’t allow myself to go there because he’s not mine and never will be. At least not like that.

Time passes; I don’t even know how much. I’m locked under his spell as he kisses me over and over again like a possessed man, and then I’m being hoisted in the air and pressed against the hallway wall. My legs wrap around his waist so we’re now eye to eye, and I’m seeing a different side of Jack from what I saw this morning, one I never thought I would. Sexy.

“You are so tiny,” he mumbles against my lips, never separating us.

To which I reply, “And you are so . . . large.”

He catches the innuendo and chuckles as his tongue dips in, wrapping around mine, and his hands squeeze my butt then stroke up the backs of my thighs.

“Just once,” I say to him, pulling back and looking him in the eye. “Friends.” I nod my head, needing him to know this isn’t going to change things.

“Whatever suits your fancy,” he says—a little too easily—and then he brings his hands to my face, silencing me again with his lips. He’s intense, just the way I imagined he would be, only I never really thought it would happen with me.

I feel him reach underneath me and stroke himself, and then he rubs the tip over me. My eyes roll back in my head at how much I want this, how he can feel how much I want this, and we’re going to do this, right here, right now. Every muscle in my lower half tightens in anticipation.

“Can’t wait,” he says, moving his mouth to my neck, his fingers touching me while I hold on to him.

My head tilts to give him access as he licks up the column of my neck, his hot breath and his hot skin branding me.

“Your leg?” I question. I can’t have him hurting himself.

He shakes his head as if that is the furthest thing from his mind, to which I reply, “Don’t wait then,” and lock my ankles together.

“Pill?” he asks against my lips, both his and mine now swollen and damp. I nod, because this is a conversation I’m not ready to have with him, and also because I’m unable to articulate anything else. The next thing I know, he’s sliding in deep.

“So tight . . . so soft,” he mumbles against my cheek as he drives into me and loses himself in the feel of us. I know I should be worried about how this might change us and what this might or might not mean, but I just can’t. After I lose myself the first time and he carries us the few steps down the hall to his bed, all concerns drift away as he wraps his mouth around my breast, finds every erotic zone on my body, and gives me the singular best night of sex of my entire life.

Chocolate Chip Cookies

THE CLANGING OF weights and the lighthearted jabbing from athletes here in the weight room at The Citadel briefly pull me from my thoughts, and I frown. It’s a familiar sound, one I’ve listened to for the last fifteen years and one that used to bring me contentment. The gym, the guys, the sweat—it always brought me solace, but I’ve spent the last four hours pushing my body, hoping to clear my head and untangle the knot in my chest, and it isn’t working. Nothing is working.

I should have taken her more seriously and listened when she said just once. Technically, we were together more than once, but it was just one night, one very long perfect night, and here we are seven days later and I’m not sure what to do.

I thought things would be different between us afterward, but according to her, nothing has changed, whereas for me, everything has. I already knew I had been teetering on the fence as far as what my emotions really were for her, and as much as I might have denied it to myself, the truth was glaring right at me, and now I find myself in a place I didn’t expect to be by myself.

The morning after the brunch, the morning after she let me spend the entire night worshipping her body, I woke to the smell of breakfast. The restaurant is closed on Mondays, so I had been hoping to spend most of the day in bed with her, repeating the night before, but as I wandered into the kitchen and tried to kiss her good morning, she squealed, laughed, and dodged me.

I couldn’t help the sinking feeling that settled into my stomach as she looked up at me, smiled shyly, and said, “Friends, remember?”

All I could answer her with was, “Right.”

Of course she was her typical bright and happy self, cracking jokes about the waffles and telling me they’re just pancakes with abs, but I couldn’t find it in me to laugh back. I don’t think I’ve laughed all week.

I’m confused.