Page 80 of Any Port in a Storm

He shakes his head. “You just can’t.”

“I’ve called you that before.”

“Not when we’re both in various states of undress, you haven’t.”

Oh.

“Sorry,” I manage, doing the best compartmentalizing of my life to shove away thoughts of what I’d see if I pulled back this sheet. “What did you want to tell me?”

He closes his eyes, too long to be just a blink. “I just…I need you to know. That this?” He gestures between us. “This is all I want.”

“To get stuck sharing a bed with your best friend?”

His reply is immediate. “You are all I want.”

Oh.

It’s like he’s slammed one door shut and opened another. A door I’ve always imagined opening, but one that felt too risky; too dangerous to test.

All I have to do is take a step forward.

“Nick,” I start, unsure where the sentence is going. I can’t think straight. My brain is flooded with the sensation of his fingers against mine, his warm breath on my lips. God, I want him so, so badly.

“Wait. I’m not done.” He reaches out to rub my cheek. “I…you’re brilliant, and gorgeous, and you’ve made my life brighter in about a thousand ways. I love…” He shakes his head roughly before continuing. “I love being your friend. But I don’t want to be just friends anymore. I want…” His hand slips into my hair, pulls my face toward him. “I want all of you.”

His lips hover next to mine, a hesitation; a question. The room starts to spin, and I’m slipping away—losing myself completely in his eyes and a rush of possibility.

I don’t know if I move forward or he does, or if we’re dragged together by some sort of otherworldly force, but his ragged breathing quickens as our lips brush once, twice.

Three times.

I pull back, pulse fluttering in my throat, and look directly into his eyes—an answer.

“Laurel,” he breathes, like it’s part profanity, part prayer, then crushes his mouth back to mine. His kiss is wild—the result of years of wanting and longing and desperate denial. His hands are in my hair again, sliding down my back, pulling me closer until the only thing between us is electricity.

It’s never felt like this with anyone else.

My blood runs thick with the heat of the moment. I can’t keep my hands off him; don’t want to ever stop touching him. I run my fingers greedily over his shoulders and across his pecs; down his abdomen and along his waistband. He’s warm and toned and steady, and touching him like this is beyond surreal.

God, I’ve wanted this so badly.

Nick parts my lips with his tongue, and I see stars. This was already the best kiss of my life. Now, I’m almost positive it’ll never be topped. I want all of him.

I want to give him everything.

My mind is a swirling eddy of lust and wanting when I drag my thumb under the hem of his shirt, run my fingers over his bare chest.

“God,” he moans. “Laurel.”

If I hadn’t been so turned on already, hearing my name on his lips while my hands are against his skin would have sent me over the edge.

Nick tentatively brushes his lips against my neck, down my décolletage, over my breasts. He sucks me into his mouth through the fabric, and I can’t help but gasp.

He chuckles in a decidedly sexy way. “You like that?”

I manage only a small whimper, which elicits quite the grin on his part.

Nick runs his right hand under my shirt, reaching up to cup my breast. He toys with my nipple, still sucking over the left side of my shirt.