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“Tell him what?” Preston’s gaze turned hard. “That I fucked you when he told me to keep my hands off you?”
I bristled.
Most of the time his filthy mouth turned me on, but his statement cheapened what we’d done. What I had meant was we could tell Colin we were dating, but—then again, Preston had been clear we weren’t. He was my teacher, and we were just friends.
Ones who texted every day, had been on multiple dates, and were exclusive. Not to mention, we’d slept together. But he wasn’t my boyfriend.
He didn’t want that label.
“You’re his best friend,” I said. “I don’t get why he’s so against the idea of us getting together.”
He looked at me with confusion, like the answer was obvious. “Because he knows I’m not good enough for you.”
My breath caught in my throat. He’d said he knows rather than he thinks, and it hurt my heart to find out Preston believed he wasn’t good enough for me. Four years ago, maybe there was the slightest chance that had been true, but now? He owned up to his mistakes. He tried to put other people before himself.
He was becoming a better person.
I swallowed down my annoyance and lifted my chin. “Well, he doesn’t get to decide who’s good enough for me. I’ll talk to him.”
“Don’t,” he said quickly. He moved closer and set his hands on my hips but seemed distracted by his thoughts. “It’d be better if you let me handle it. I can . . . I don’t know. Put some feelers out or something.”
I fought the urge to push for more.
Colin was my brother, so I knew he’d love me no matter what. Preston, on the other hand, had so much more to lose. Since he was closer to Colin than I was, and he thought it was better coming from him, I was willing to defer to his judgement.
“When?” I asked.
His dark eyes were focused as he leaned in. “Soon.”
When his mouth landed on mine, the atmosphere in the room grew thick in a heartbeat, rekindling the fire we’d had earlier. His hands slipped up under the hem of my shirt, and his fingers splayed across my bare back, slowly inching up.
His tone was pure seduction. “Where were we before he showed up?”
I let out a short laugh and grabbed his forearms, pushing them down. “We don’t have time for that anymore. I need to be home soon.”
It was a weeknight, which meant my parents liked to be asleep by eleven—and they wouldn’t go to bed until I was home.
“You could be bad and break curfew.” His mouth was hot on the side of my neck, and every kiss was a tool of persuasion, begging me to stay.
God, how I wanted to.
But I sensed I had to pick my battles with my parents, and this was one I wasn’t ready to fight.
When I didn’t say anything, Preston straightened and gave a knowing half-smile. “All right, good girl. I’ll drive you home.”
Preston parked the car in my driveway, then turned to look at me seated in the passenger side. His gaze drifted over me and my box of cooking gear I’d brought over to his place that I now had resting on my lap.
“Thank you for the knife bag,” I said. I was still stunned by his gift.
He was sheepish but tried to play it off like he wasn’t. “Yeah, well, thanks for dinner.”
Didn’t he hear how that sounded like a date? Adding to it was the way he leaned over in his seat, traced his fingertips across my jawline, and placed his lips against mine.
Whoa.
This kiss . . . this incredible kiss he gave me wasn’t about sex, or lust, or desire.
It tasted like longing. Like he would miss me when I got out of this car and walked inside. It was slow and thorough, and everything outside of him evaporated.
