“What?” he pulled back slightly, frowning in the dim light.
“You’re—so hot.” I could barely catch my breath, my words coming out in little puffs. Running my hands across all the firm muscle was making my insides flip. Sometime in the last few years, Cade had developed aneight-pack.
“Thanks?” he chuckled, but I could tell he was secretly proud. I kissed him harder.
I opened my mouth for him, and his tongue dove in. We’d kissed before, senior year, but it was nothing like this. Back then it was hesitant, searching, testing. This was devouring.
I couldn’t get close enough, and suddenly I was straddling one of his thighs with both of mine.
“Cade,” I whimpered.
I knew he could hear how much the words were laced with desire.
I rubbed my body up and down his thigh, enjoying the newfound friction between my thin yoga pants and his jeans. His mouth was on my neck, sucking, nipping. My head was thrown back to give him better access. God, I was on fire, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. Never had anything felt like this before.Is this how it was supposed to feel?
His hands found my thighs, and he rubbed along the outside of them. I thought he might pick me up, carry me to another room. I wanted him to. I wanted to be totally at his mercy.
Instead, he removed his hands and brought them up to cup my face. My thighs felt cold and bare where his warm hands had been.
“We have to stop, B,” he whispered against my face.
He leaned his forehead against mine.
My heart fell like a rock to the bottom of the lake. The rejection stung, shocking me back to my senses. I hurriedly extracted myself from his grip and went to my room. I could feel the embarrassment staining my cheeks.
“B—” he called after me.
I shut the door, and slid down in front of it, crumpling to the floor.
Okay,so maybe I had overreacted the night before. I was a hormonal mess, and this trip had opened up all kinds of confusing feelings inside me.
The movie nights, the diner, the walks down Main Street—Cade had reminded me so much of home.
I’d thought he wanted me, too.
But then again—Cade had mentioned the word “friends” repeatedly all week.
Maybe after all this time, that was all he saw us being? Either way, it was a complete gut punch.
The niggling voice in my head reminded me that he’d pulled away once he touched my thighs. My lower half had always been curvier than up top. And I knew I was softer, even more curvy than I was high school. Typically I wasn’t self-conscious around Cade, but suddenly I wondered if my softened form didn’t meet his sculpted Greek-god standards. I mean, the man had an eight-pack, for Pete’s sake.
And weren’t people always saying how beautiful women were in California? Images flooded my brain of tanned blonde women with pouty lip filler wearing skimpy, barely-there bikinis. No way could I compete with that.
I steeled my resolve. In the light of day, I decided Cade’s approach was right. We were better as friends.
I got moving in the early morning light. I packed up my bags, washed the sheets, and made the Adlers’ bed. I’d have to remember to send them a thank-you card for letting me stay here. I hoped they would enjoy the tree we’d picked.
As I carried my bags out into the living room, I met Cade’s gaze, plastering on what I hoped was a convincing smile.
He, on the other hand, looked tortured.
“All packed up?” He indicated my bags.
“Yep,” I said cheerily. “This has been a great getaway for me, Cade. I really do appreciate it.”
I walked to the car and put my bags inside. He followed me out, his bag slung over shoulder.
“Ready to get back to life in Boston, though,” I told him. “Do you need me to drive?”
