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“Can’t you stay? We have”—I cleared my throat—“plenty of room, as you well know.”
“I should get home. Henry.”
“He’s with your mom. Plus…”
“Plus what?”
What the hell? We were both thinking it. “Plus…weren’t you planning to spend the night with lipstick woman, anyway? You’d have been out all—”
He pulled me to him, smashing our chests together. “You want to know what lipstick woman was?” He grabbed my hair in his fist and yanked it back, forcing me to meet his gaze. “She was a substitute. A piss-poor substitute at that. A substitute for what I really wanted.”
My heart thundered inside me, the beat radiating out to my fingertips. “Wh-What do you want?”
“You fucking know what I want, baby.”
I closed my eyes, waiting for his kiss.
A kiss that didn’t come.
I opened my eyes.
His own were full of torment.
I couldn’t help myself. I cupped his cheek, letting his sandy stubble scratch my fingertips.
“Damn it, Marjorie,” he said gruffly.
“Take it, then. Take what you want, Bryce.”
Chapter Twelve
Bryce
Take it, then. Take what you want, Bryce.
If I were stronger, her sweet coconut scent wouldn’t entice me.
If I were stronger, her trembling pink lips wouldn’t set my loins on fire.
If I were stronger, those sweet nipples protruding through her tight T-shirt wouldn’t be my undoing.
If I were stronger, I’d do the right thing.
If I were stronger.
If…
I stroked her rosy cheeks, her skin like silk beneath my rough fingertips, and I pulled her face to mine, our lips meeting.
She opened, her smooth tongue melting against my own. She tasted of a hint of lusty red wine, a touch of mint, a sweet sensation that had my senses spinning.
I was going to hell for this. Surely I was going to hell. I had nothing to offer this wonderful woman. I had nothing to offer this baby sister of my best friend.
That last thought should have stopped me. Should have had me breaking the kiss and running toward the door.
But it didn’t.
No.
