Page 14 of More Than Friends

I shouldn’t have drunk so much.After Char and I polished off the second bottle of wine, it seemed like the right idea to open up a third. But now I’m feeling things I shouldn’t be feeling and thinking things I shouldn’t be thinking, and it’s all because of this stupid wine.

Or maybe it isn’t the wine at all. Maybe it’s her.

I’m too close to Char.

I’m not close enough.

She’s got wine all over her shirt, and I’m just trying to help her dry off, but my head is spinning, and I can’t think straight.

My entire body stills. Her stomach rises and falls underneath my touch.

“What’s with you spilling your drinks on yourself today?” I ask, my voice coming out far more hoarse than I was expecting.

Charlotte lets out a small breath of a laugh. “Apparently, I’m a mess.”

I smile and try to pretend that pressing my lips to hers isn’t every thought going through my mind. I’ve never hidden my attraction to Charlotte. She’s witty, incredibly smart, an amazing friend, and stunningly beautiful. It’d be impossible not to be attracted to her, but I’ve learned to bury that attraction. Sure,I’ll make comments here and there because I love to make her blush. Sometimes making her blush is the only way I can tell if I have some sort of effect on her. I love having proof that she isn’t completely immune to me, but never did I think we’d end up here, with my hand pressed against her stomach, feeling the proof of her reaction to our proximity with her sharp inhales and exhales.

“Char,” I whisper, my gaze flicking to her lips. I don’t think I’ve ever been this close to her. If I have, it didn’t feel like it does now. The air around us is thick with tension. I feel like I can’t even bring air into my lungs because of it.

Her lips part, and her tongue peeks out the smallest amount. She wets her lips, and I swear my heart races so fast that it feels like it could beat right out of my chest. I blame the alcohol, even though it has nothing to do with the buzz I have from the wine. It’s because I’m drunk off Charlotte.

It’s dark in my living room; the only light we have is from the dim lights of the kitchen and the candle on the coffee table. Her eyes are normally a stunning bright blue that reminds me of the sky on a summer day here in the Hamptons, but because of the lack of light in the room tonight, they appear darker.

“Jude.” My name comes out strained, and it might be the drinks playing tricks on me, but I swear she looks at my lips.

Does she want me to kiss her?

God, I really want to kiss her.

I know I shouldn’t.

She’s been upfront from the very beginning that nothing will ever happen between us.

But she’s also never looked at me like she was starving for my kiss.

“I…” My words fall off because I don’t know what to even say. Do I ask to kiss her? Do I tell her I want to kiss her? Or do Iback away and let the moment pass and not risk messing up our friendship?

I’ve known Charlotte for almost a year at this point. We’ve had drinks together plenty of times and been alone more times than I could ever count. Never once has there been tension between us like there is right now. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol, the candlelight, or something else entirely, but all I know is for the first time in our friendship, I’m considering crossing the line that’s been drawn.

The resolve I’m desperately holding on to threatens to snap. Instead of resting my hand against the wet spot on her shirt, I let the paper towel drop and fist the fabric instead. My fingers latch onto the material tightly, and I toe the line by pulling on her shirt slightly, bringing her body closer to mine.

She doesn’t protest. In fact, she takes me by surprise by bracing herself with her hands on my thighs.

And then she looks at my lips again at the same moment a small noise of surprise—that sounded a lot like amoan—falls from her lips.

My resolve snaps. I lean in and press my mouth against hers. It’s so soft that our lips barely touch, but it’s enough to send shock waves through my entire body. Everything fades away with the press of her lips against mine.

I know I shouldn’t kiss my best friend, but I can’t think of anything else. I’m not thinking of the consequences. I’m not thinking about what happens after we kiss. All I’m thinking about is the desperate sound she let out and the hungry way she was staring at my lips.

I’m about to open my mouth and coax my tongue into hers when she tears her mouth from mine.

“Jude.” My name comes from her lips like a plea; I just don’t know what she’s begging for. I hope it’s for more of what we just started, but her wide-eyed stare tells me that it’s probably theopposite. “We shouldn’t…” Her words trail off as she brings her fingertips to her mouth and presses them against her bottom lip. She sits back, and I take the hint to let go of her shirt.

I miss the warmth of her mouth, of feeling her rapid breathing under my touch. I want to close the distance between us and kiss her again, except this time, I want to deepen it. I want to figure out what she tastes like and discover what sounds she’ll make with my mouth against hers. I want so much more from her, but the way she stares back at me tells me all I need to know. I want more, and I can tell just by the look in her eyes thatmoreis the last thing she wants.

I swallow, my fingers twitching at my side to reach out and touch her again.

Fuck, what have I done?