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I’ve never turned down a dare, and I’m not about to now.
“Fine,” I spit the word out with fire raging inside me.
It’s a combination of anger, pride, and a heady mix of fear and hope.
I shouldn’t want the bottle to land on him, but a part of me is craving that.
Jameson moves to stand next to the table. He motions toward the opposite side. “Stand there and spin it.”
It’s a rectangular table, so I’m tempted to ask what the parameters are, but that doesn’t matter. The chances of the bottle stopping where he’s standing are slim.
I reach down and pick up the bottle. I bring it to my lips to swallow the few drops of wine left in it. It amounts to nothing but a slight bit of liquid courage for me.
Jameson chuckles. “I take it that particular vintage is a favorite of yours?”
I shrug a shoulder. “Why waste a good thing?”
His smile fades as his gaze darkens. “Spin the bottle.”
I place it on the table and close my eyes. I say one small prayer, just a tiny plea in the hope that the bottle will land on him, and then I let it go as it spins toward my fate.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Jameson
The penthouse is silent as the bottle slows.
My odds look good, so I glance across the table at Sinclair.
Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth. It’s an image that I’ve saved to memory at least a dozen times in the past.
I’ve also jacked off to that memory because the thought of her teeth, tongue, and lips on my cock is almost too much to bear.
My gaze drops to the wine bottle again as it comes to rest with the neck pointing slightly to my right.
I call that a fucking win.
“Kiss me.” Those two words come out strangled. My voice is hoarse. The need etched in it so clear that it sends Sin’s gaze in my direction.
Her fingers wiggle in the air. “It’s not pointing right at you.”
“It’s close enough.”
She nods slowly, her eyes cast on the bottle. I can tell that she’s contemplating her next move.
I know mine.
I want to finally taste her kiss after all these goddamn years. This is my life lottery. I never envisioned any scenario in which she’d kiss me, but this feels like the opportunity of my lifetime, and I’m going to do everything I possibly can not to let it slip away from me.
“You know the rules, Sin,” I remind her.
Her teeth latch onto her lip again as she sighs. “I know the rules.”
“Are you finally going to break one?”
Her eyes run a path over my lips. “Breaking rules is wrong.”
In her world, that’s the case. In mine, I operate from the boundaries of what I can legally and morally get away with. I view rules as reminders. I don’t see them as set in stone.
We’ve never set rules for what can and can’t happen in our broken friendship. Even if we did, I’d break every damn one to kiss her once.
Her eyes widen as I plant a foot on the table and step over it in one fluid motion. As soon as I’m standing next to her, it feels as though time slows, and the air around us thickens. I don’t know if that’s because I suddenly can’t breathe, but fuck it, I’m about to kiss the girl I’ve crushed hard on for my entire life.
“Kiss me,” I say in a voice I don’t recognize as my own.
It’s laced with so much need and desire that anyone hearing it would know that I desperately want Sinclair.
“I won’t feel a thing,” she whispers. “Not one damn thing.”
“That’s a lie.” Those are the last words that leave my lips before my world changes.
I cup her face in my hands and take her mouth in the kiss I’ve waited a lifetime for.
Her hands search for something to grab onto. They settle on the lapels of my jacket. She fists the fabric as I deepen the kiss.
I part her lips with the tip of my tongue, and she’s all in.
She grants me entry, and I taste her. Each swipe of my tongue against hers is exquisite. She tastes delicate and sweet with the barest hint of red wine.
How the fuck can a woman’s kiss be this all-encompassing, this completely life-changing?
One of my hands drops to the center of her back. I tug her closer, needing her to feel what this is doing to me.
I’m hard as stone.
She lets out a small sound that vibrates through me. I’ve never heard that from a woman before, but I instantly recognize it as need.
She wants this as much as I do.
“Jameson.” My name floats from her lips as she pulls back slightly. “What are we doing?”
“What we should have done years ago.”
That answer sends the corners of her mouth up into a slight grin. “What?”
