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“Whoa,” she says.
I catch her. I steady her forearms and we stand. She wraps me in a hug.
It’s unlike any hug I’ve ever had. Because it’s Sophie and her breath tingles across my neck. And the fronts of both of our sweatshirts are warm, but now that we’re super close, our bodies sink into each other. Her hair smells like fresh peaches.
And now I’m craving peaches. I’m craving Sophie.
“I lied,” she says.
“You don’t lie.”
She snickers against my chest. “Oliver, everyone lies. Some a little, some a lot. But everyone lies.”
I chuckle. “Okay. What did you lie about?”
She breathes in deeply and lets it go in a rush. “I do miss my mom. Visiting her grave is hard. And I hardly ever do it, which makes me a bad daughter, especially because her gravestone was dirty and the grass had started to grow over the edges. And I’m a bad sister because Claire likes to go.”
“You’re a good sister to Claire.”
She shakes her head. “There’s something else I wasn’t honest about. I do remember her. Memories fade, but I remember lots of things about her. It still hurts that she died.” Her voice is raw. “I’m still so angry about it.”
“Anyone would be.” I pause, and when she doesn’t say more, I add, “Anytime you want to talk about your mom or anytime you need anything, I’m here for you. Okay? I haven’t been there for you in the past, but I want to be now.” I swallow down the regret. Some of it starts to shift and free itself, out and away from my chest.
She softens into my embrace, inching closer so that her legs are practically flush with mine. She tilts her head up to me.
I care for her so much. Her pain brings me pain. All these years with her have completely changed me. I realize with startling clarity that she’s my best friend—she always has been—and I’m in love with my beautiful, tantalizing best friend. I don’t know the future, but that doesn’t matter. My eyes ask a question, and she nods.
Breathless, I press my lips to hers. At first, I tease her with my mouth. I’m not kissing her softly, there’s no way I could do that right now. But there’s some caution there. She’s on her tiptoes and she stumbles as she tries to push herself more firmly against me.
Now we’re feverish. Hungry. I’ve never known anything like this before. Her lips are hot, searching. They taste like vanilla lip gloss. Pulling me closer, her hands splay my back, and I don’t want this to end.
I need her closer to me, so my hands move up her shoulders and into her hair. I tilt her head the slightest bit, my lips traveling to her neck. A low moan vibrates in her throat, and I ache to move back to her mouth.
Suddenly, a soft, wet, dog nose presses against my arm.
Chapter 17
Sophie
“Down, boy,” I mutter against Oliver’s lips, moving my knee against Wilford.
Oliver’s lips. Whoa. Wow.
And now he’s roaming, and I like it.
But then he pulls away, and with a flushed face, he asks. “Do you mean me or Wilford?” His voice is low, dangerously low, and his forehead is pressed against mine.
He knows I meant Wilford, but his expression is challenging me. Questioning if it’s okay or not.
I bend to pick up Wilford’s leash. How he broke away from the sign post I tied him to, I don’t know. It’s probably because I was so anxious to find Oliver, I wasn’t careful with the knot.
I wind the leash around my arm and lean in for another kiss. My pulse thunders through me to my fingers and toes. After a few moments, I break apart, my breathing uneven and rough. “What do you think?” Now my voice is low and froggy. A lump I can’t swallow is in the way. Wilford seems much happier now that we’re a foot apart.
Oliver’s eyes widen. He crushes me with another kiss. It’s just me and him and the heat of the bonfire. Nothing else exists. His lips move with mine. Everything’s in sync, and with our bodies flush against each other, even our heartbeat’s the same.
Just as Wilford buries his nose at our hips to separate us, someone clears their throat. It’s subtle, but a definite warning.
Oliver pulls away, and his eyes over my head are like daggers. “Sebastian, do you mind?” He pulls me tighter up against him and goes in for another kiss. But suddenly I’m shy. I move away, just slightly, but Oliver feels it, and he tightens his hands against my back before letting me go.
