“You mean being friends with me, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
My stomach drops straight through the floor. “Okay.”
“I know this is…it’s not…shit.” His hands curl into fists. Like he’s holding in some big feelings. Something which is definitely going around right now.
Not to be melodramatic, but a dagger through the heart would hurt less. And not some skinny stiletto either. One of those big-ass hunting knives. “Tonight was awkward with Jade, and you have to work with her. It makes sense that you would need to keep that relationship as friendly as possible.”
His brows draw tight together. “Yeah.”
“What I am trying to say is that I understand.”
“You do?”
I nod like a bobblehead doll. “I mean your work culture involves socializing sometimes and obviously—”
“Sid, this has nothing to do with what happened tonight.”
“It doesn’t?”
“No.”
Forget the hunting knife. The man has harpooned me in the heart. Hearing he doesn’t want to be friends because of me and not the shitty situation that is my life is a whole new hellscape. As soon as he leaves, I’m going to hurl myself into the nearest abyss and/or suitably deep chasm. Then I am going to messy cry.
He cocks his head. “What are you talking about?”
“You don’t want to be friends.”
“No. It’s not working.”
“Right. So that’s what I am talking about.”
He steps closer and says, “You don’t get it.”
This is when I start frowning too. Because I’m not sure how much more I can take without bursting into tears. Something I do not want to happen. Please leave the tatters of my pride.
Which is when he takes my head in his hands and presses his mouth against mine. Then kisses me. His lips are firm and warm and oh so insistent. Like nothing else matters. His tongue teasesmy upper lip, and I open for him. Of course I do. He tastes of the wine we’ve been drinking. My body comes alive as my brain spins in dizzy circles. Having his tongue in my mouth and him holding me tight is heaven. All of the heat of him pressed up against me. It’s not what I was expecting, but it’s exactly what I need.
His pupils are blown, his eyes dark as night, when he pulls back. He licks his lips and smiles at me with hunger enough to make my knees weak. No one’s ever looked at me the way he does. And his hands grasp me firmly—like he’s worried I might try to slip away. Of which there is not a single fucking chance. Not in this lifetime.
“This is what I am talking about,” he says.
“Huh.” I think the situation over for all of a second. “Guess you have to get back to the party.”
“Not if you don’t want me to.”
“I really don’t want you to.”
“Okay.”
Such a simple thing to reach past him and lock the door. To take him by the hand and lead him upstairs to my bedroom. It’s all shadows and moonlight up there. The perfect setting for what I have in mind. His cologne smells of sage and salt and it goes straight to my head. I want his scent on my skin and on my sheets. To be able to walk into this room and know he’s been here.
“Look at me, Sid.” He stops at the foot of the bed. “We can do as little or as much as you want. I’m in no rush. Just happy to be here.”
It’s a sweet sentiment. But I slip my feet out of my sandals and pull my top over my head. I can feel his gaze on my lace bra. My fingers are fumbling with the button and zipper of my jeans when he falls to his knees. He pushes the denim down and helps me step out of them. Then his big hands grasp my ass and drawme close. He nuzzles my belly button and the waist of my briefs. Seems I am not alone with the weird wanting-to-smell-him thing. Because his face is pressed against me and he’s breathing in deep. A hand eases between my thighs. Fingertips brushing lightly back and forth over the soaked crotch of my panties.
The man is such a fucking tease. Shame on him.
