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“They have. And we’re close now. We’re real friends, not simply . . . friends by association.” She tilts her head to study me for a beat. Her gaze is locked on mine, and there’s a new strength in her eyes, a new certainty. Maybe it’s from finishing PT, or maybe it’s from starting the list, or hell, maybe it’s from the mushrooms.
Whatever it is, she looks like a woman taking charge of a night she doesn’t want to end, and it’s so fucking hot.
“But if you think more than friends is a bad idea . . .” A hint of nervousness creeps back into her voice.
“I didn’t say that.”
“No, but you didn’t say you wanted to do more than stare at me, either.” She hesitates, biting her bottom lip as she waves toward me. “And you’re still way over there.”
I’m torn between teasing her and showing her just how fast I can do more than stare. “When did you get so good at that?”
“Good at what?”
“Flirting,” I say, taking a step closer.
She sits up straighter, causing her breasts to peak against her slinky shirt and my imagination to charge full speed ahead into the Friends with Benefits zone. “I don’t know,” she says, soft and sexy. “Honestly, I don’t think I am good at it. Not usually. Not with . . . normal men.”
I arch a brow. “Just weirdos like me?”
Her lips quirk. “Yeah. Just weirdos like you.” She pulls in a shaky breath, releasing it as I move even closer. “You’re the furthest thing from weird, and you know it. You’re . . .”
When she doesn’t finish, I ask, “What? I’m what?”
“You’re the it guy,” she says, holding my gaze with glittering eyes. “The unattainable sex god we mere mortals drool over as you walk by. But you’re so far above us you don’t even notice.”
“I notice you, Ruby,” I say, bracing my hands on either side of her hips. “I notice everything about you. Every . . . fucking . . . thing.”
My eyes travel up and down her face, her breasts, her body, memorizing how she looks this second as she says, “Then I think there’s only one thing to do.”
“What’s that?” I love the teasing, love the anticipation. Most of all, I love hearing this woman own the move she’s about to make.
She licks her lips. “There’s a reason I didn’t want the night to end.”
I glide my hand to her hip, touching her.
It’s a hip.
A hip I’ve known most of my life.
A hip I’m sure I’ve bumped, grazed accidentally many times.
There is nothing accidental about the way I touch her now.
Everything is deliberate as I curl my hand around that delicious bone.
Everything is electric when her voice hitches on one sexy syllable—a delicious, inviting, “Oh.”
I lean in until our faces are near enough that I feel her breath warm on my lips as she whispers, “I want to try something new.”
She closes the gap, pressing her lips to mine, sending the roller coaster inside me swooping over a crest and plunging down the other side.
My stomach lurches and my chest goes tight as a wave of something more intense that simple attraction rushes through me.
At first, it’s only lips.
Mine on hers. Hers on mine. A gentle, curious exploration, learning the landscape, sampling the dips and valleys of each other.
And as my lips brush hers, I try to record all the lush details. The tropical scent in her hair, like she uses one of those Hawaiian shampoos. The soft curves of her mouth.
The little sighs and gasps she makes that lead me on.
Make me want to get even closer.
She parts her lips, inviting me to take this kiss to another level.
Try something new, indeed.
My tongue flicks into her mouth, and she opens for me. Then, in the span of a heartbeat, my mind is a wild haze.
My body takes over.
My blood pumps fast as I thread my fingers into her silky hair and pull her closer, devouring her mouth. She tastes like salt and spice from our meal, with a hint of lemon and a deeper, sweeter base note that’s pure Ruby.
And I want to get to know this side of her.
Seems she wants the same thing. Her hands make their way up my chest, traveling over my pecs until she loops them around my neck.
This isn’t a starter kiss.
This is one of those kisses that’s going in only one direction.
My favorite direction.
She tugs gently on my neck, and since I’m a damn good listener, I answer her, nudging her legs apart, making room for myself.
Here, on the O of YO, I wedge myself between those gorgeous thighs—thank you, sculptor, for making this letter perfect kissing height for a sitting woman and a standing guy. As I move closer to her center, a gasp escapes those pretty lips.
