“Really?” I ask, my eyes flashing wider. I can’t hide my surprise.
“Absolutely. This was a lot more comfortable than a typical first date. I guess that’s one positive thing about dating a friend.” She collects the used brushes and washes them while I put the covers back on the paint jars. When I finish, I join her at the sink.
“What’s a negative thing about dating a friend?” I ask.
She answers without hesitating. “That we’re enmeshed in each other’s lives. If things end badly, we’ll be stuck seeing each other whenever our friends get together.”
“We’re both adults. I can’t imagine a scenario where I wouldn’t want you in my life in some way.”
She nods. “I feel the same. But life isn’t predictable, and anything can happen.”
“So what are you saying?”
She takes in a deep breath, and I already know what’s coming before she lets the words loose. “Should we take a step back and think about whether or not we really want to pursue something more?”
I know she’s trying to be responsible, but I’m annoyed just the same because I don’t want to go back.I can’t.There’s no shoving my feelings down inside my heart and pretending they don’t exist. If she’s having reservations, I need to try to allay them.
Exhaling slowly, I remind myself to keep my voice even before I begin. “Okay. You say you want to think about it, but isn’t that what we’ve been doing? I’ve been thinking about you for weeks, trying not to want this, and it’s not working.”
Her eyes widen slightly, surprise flickering in the light-green depths. “I don’t want to ruin what we already have.”
I shake my head. “We’re not going to ruin it. Yes, things will change, but in a good way. A fantastic way.”
She chews her lip, and something inside me twists. She’s always so careful, so methodical and measured. For once, I want to see what she’s like when she lets go and just feels.
I take a step closer. “You can keep thinking, if that’s what you need. But I already know what I want.” I reach out, brushing my fingertips against her cheek. Her breath catches, but she doesn’t pull away. “Tell me to stop,” I husk. She shakes her head once, and that’s all the permission I need.
The kiss starts slowly, allowing her time to change her mind. When her hands slide up my arms, fingers curling around my shoulders, pulling me closer, thinking becomes impossible. All I can do is allow myself to get swept up in her. After all the stolen glances and fighting against this pull, of toeing the line between friendship and more, we both leap.
Ginger parts her lips, deepening the kiss. Her tongue slides against mine, and I’m lost in the sensation of her. My hands find her hips, pulling her closer until there’s no space left between us.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” she whispers against my mouth.
“Me too,” I admit, trailing along her jaw to press a soft kiss to the sensitive spot beneath her ear.
She shivers in my arms, fingers tangling in my hair. “Why did we wait so long?”
I pull back so I can look in her eyes. “We needed to be sure.”
“I’m sure now,” she says, the absolute certainty in her voice stealing my breath.
I draw her back to me, our lips meeting with renewed purpose. This kiss feels different than the others. It feels like the beginning of something I’ve been waiting for my entire life.
CHAPTER 15
GINGER
When I pull up in front of Travis’ house, my nerves have already kicked in, which is ridiculous since the partygoers are all people I know and love.
The lawn is decorated with a row of lighted reindeer with a red sleigh behind them. The inflatable Santa seated inside leans to the right, looking as if one hard gust of wind will blow him right out of there. Golden lights are strung along the porch, and two small potted Christmas trees flank the front door.
I check my reflection in the rearview mirror for the tenth time. I curled my hair and even took the time to put on more makeup than usual. I grin, making sure my lipstick hasn’t drifted from my lips to my teeth. My red sweater hugs my chest a little tighter than I’d planned, and my jeans are definitely too tight. Guess I’ll have to be content with a liquid diet this evening. My toes are crammed into boots with heels—high fucking heels that are a gamble when I’m sober, never mind when alcohol is involved. If there’s ice on the driveway, I’m screwed.
I blow out a breath and mutter, “You’re fine. It’s just a party.”
Except it’s not just a party because Jordan’s inside. And I haven’t been able to think straight since that universe-altering kiss we shared last night.
Grabbing the box of baked goods I brought, I step out into the cold. My wool coat is no match for the frigid temperature as I walk up the driveway, but I make it onto the porch without faceplanting.
