Page 89 of The Right Kind of Wrong

Blake must have seen the uncertainty written across Monroe’s face; she stilled her movements, lifting her body up slightly to alleviate the pressure. Her voice was soft when she said, “I’m not asking you for anything except what’s happening right now. I promise. I know that your life is complicated, and I’m not trying to put any extra pressure on that.” Then, she ghosted her fingers along Monroe’s jaw, which did not have the steadying effect Blake had probably hoped for. “I just see you, and . . . you’re so beautiful. I can’t help but want you. Does that make sense?”

Yeah, it made a lot of fucking sense. Because Monroe felt the exact same way.

Not that it helped them in the slightest.

Monroe had slept with a few women in college. And she’d been attracted to Sylvia, when things had been better between them.

But what was happening with Blake was different.

Scary different.

Because it was more than just physical. Blake had already gotten under Monroe’s skin, the feeling fluttering in her heart overwhelming. She was more privy to the turmoil in Monroe’s mind than anyone else.

Her body stiffened atop Monroe, and she could feel as Blake tried to slide her leg off to stand up.

But Monroe quickly moved her hands back to Blake’s hips, holding her close. “It makes complete sense. Okay?” she whispered.

Blake softened against her thighs, and the press of her body made it hard for Monroe to focus. “Maybe we can just be friends who sometimes kiss?” Blake whispered in reply. “Is that such a bad thing?”

Monroe looked down between them. “This is a little more than kissing.”

She was surprised when Blake shrugged, smiling when she said, like she was recalling a fond memory, “You’re the one who dragged me into the house like a caveman. But I can commit to only kissing,” she added, “if that makes you more comfortable.”

“I don’t think that’s an accurate characterization of what happened,” Monroe argued as she sat up straighter, Blake jostling with the movement.

“Well, at the very least, we can agree that you kissed me this time. I was following the rules,” Blake pointed out.

What a brat.

Except that Monroe was more than a little enamored when Blake was playful like this. “Who’s to say?” Monroe teased, her fingertips starting to play against the hem of Blake’s shorts.

“Yeah, who’s to say?” Blake replied, and then Monroe was enveloped by the soft press of Blake’s lips against her own. Blake held tenderly for a few beats, her hand still cupping Monroe’s jaw, and then she sighed and pulled back. “See? Mature and controlled. Just a friend, sharing a kiss with another friend.”

“Says the woman sitting on my lap.”

“In a very controlled and friendly manner,” Blake repeated, a sly, frustratingly cute smile on her face.

The knock on the door made them both jump.

“Shit. Maisie must be home from her playdate.” Even though Monroe knew that it was good for things to cool off between them, she still hated it when Blake slipped off of her so easily into a standing position.

Blake extended her hand, which Monroe couldn’t stop herself from taking. “What are you two doing for dinner?” she asked, pulling Monroe up from the sofa.

They were so close together, their chests brushing, fingers still intertwined.

“Um . . .” Monroe tried to remember. She felt like she’d lived a couple of years in the last hour, since Blake had waltzed into her garage and turned her whole existence on its head. Again. Finally, she remembered. “I was going to grill tonight. Carne asada for tacos.”

“Well, maybe your friend and neighbor Blake can join you? Just to prove that you have nothing to fear from me disrupting your life with Maisie. If that’s okay?” she added, a little tentative now.

Blake didn’t seem to understand that it was Monroe who couldn’t be trusted, not Blake. Today was evidence of that.

Even so, she wanted Blake to stay. More than that, it would probably be helpful for her to do so, just to work out any lingering awkwardness from their second kiss. They could prove that nothing had gotten so far out of control that it couldn’t be walked back to the place where they both needed to exist.

Ugh. Except that numbering the kisses sort of implied that more were going to be happening.

Because they were . . . Monroe heard from some unhelpful place in her mind.

She shook the thoughts away and reluctantly extricated herself from Blake to head toward the door. “Sure. Stay for dinner,” she said with more confidence than she felt.