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Squeezing my eyes tight, I will the images of him hard and aroused out of my mind. It doesn’t work. As I’m sucking down my bottle of water, I feel Hunter behind me.
“Lennon, I’m sorry.” His voice almost sounds pained, which I hate. I know this can’t be easy for him, considering he hasn’t been with a woman since the accident. He probably has the same amount of pent-up sexual frustration as I do and didn’t mean to take it that far.
I turn around and face him. The look on his face has me frowning. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” I reassure him. “It was my idea, remember? I know it didn’t mean anything, and we just got lost in the moment.”
His jaw locks as if he’s holding back, but I don’t give him a chance to reply before trying to lighten the mood. “On the plus side, I’m starting to see the appeal other girls had over the years.”
Hunter rolls his eyes with a small smirk. “Would you just let me apologize, please? It’d make me feel like less of an asshole.”
I shrug, giving in. “Fine, but you have nothing to—”
“Lennon.” He grits through his teeth.
“Fine!” I raise my arms and drop them to my sides.
He inhales deeply, then steps back slightly. “I’m sorry I kissed you that way. I shouldn’t have let myself go that far. It’ll never happen again, I promise.” He sincerely rests a hand on his chest over his heart as if he needs to stop it from bursting out of his chest.
Never?
I swallow at his words, hating that he feels the need to say them in the first place. I’m the one who brought it up, after all.
“Alright, apology accepted.” I tell him what he wants to hear. “But we might want to practice again tomorrow,” I say with hesitation in my voice.
Hunter raises his brows.
“Practice normal kissing,” I reiterate. “Without the possibility of giving my parents a show. Or a heart attack.” I shrug, all dignity going out the fucking window at this point.
Slowly nodding, he grins, then moves away from the counter toward me. “Like this?”
He doesn’t give me a second to answer before his lips are back on mine.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Hunter
All the oxygen leaves my lungs as I push off the counter and lunge for Lennon like an animal. She gasps in my mouth as I bring our lips together, colliding in a desperate battle of wanting more but not letting myself get carried away again.
I’m pretty certain my heart stopped beating the moment she asked me to kiss her. Hell, I think I blacked out for a second. My head knows this is fake—it’s all show, an act, not real—but fuck, my heart doesn’t care. Tasting her, a desire I’ve craved for over two years, brings back the memories of the night we first met.
Her flirtatious smile, seductive voice, and lingering eyes were on me as I moved behind the bar to mix her drink. Goddamn, it makes me hard.
Then the reality of what I’m doing—what we’re doing—hits me like a ton of bricks, and I beat myself up all over again. I saw her first. But it didn’t matter because she chose him, and Brandon was my best friend. I’d never take what wasn’t mine, and she clearly made her decision that night. However, that didn’t stop the way I’ve felt about her, and when our mouths press together in a soft, sensual kiss, it takes all the fucking self-control in the world not to go any further.
My lips brush against hers, light and sweet with just enough pressure to nearly steal her breath away. We have to make it believable that we’re in love. Then as quickly as I grabbed her, I release and pull back.
“Was that better?” I ask just above a whisper.
“No,” she says, then pops her eyes open. “I mean, yes. Yes. Sorry. Less porn star show, more romantic couple.”
My brows arch. “Porn star?”
Lennon chuckles, which has become my favorite sound in the world, and swats at my chest. “You know what I mean. That was…perfect.”
A blush on her cheeks indicates she liked it way more than she wants to admit. I felt every fiber of her body press into mine when I kissed her the first time. She was begging for and needing more, taking everything I’d given her.
But I know she got lost in the make-believe of it all. She probably wishes it were Brandon and not me, and the fact that I’m jealous of my dead best friend rips me away from her.
“Okay, well I’m gonna head to bed. Or take a shower. Probably a cold one.” I walk backward, and she laughs at my expense. “We have a busy day tomorrow, so you should probably get some sleep too.”
“I’ll get right on that,” she mocks.
