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“I’m sorry that I ignored you these past couple of days,” Bree apologizes, and I can catch the sincerity in her words.
“It’s okay.”
“No, no, it’s not. You’ve been spectacular with me, and that was a bitchy move,” she manifests, sounding frustrated. “I was forcing myself to have an emotional evaluation.”
I’m not sure that I understand what that means. I don’t think that she will explain it to me because I don’t believe she’s ready for the whole feelings conversation. This is probably not the appropriate time to speak about what happened at the party and if it affects us for good. She had an overwhelming night; it’s okay if she doesn’t want to express how she truly feels about me.
However, I push my luck.
“Did you discover something important?” I ask, making use of the ounce of the midnight audacity.
I don’t know where this is going to lead, but I do know that I like her, and it would be pretty great if Bree liked me back. If she doesn’t, that’s fine too. But I need to know if I have a chance. Iwanta chance.
Bree doesn’t pronounce a single word, and the silence is unbearable. Maybe I ruined our moment with my question. Perhaps she doesn’t have feelings for me, and I misread the whole situation. I’m in the middle of an emotional crisis when Bree’s hand returns to my face, and the next thing that I can feel is her lips on top of mine, trapping my mouth in a kiss.
Chapter Eighteen
Kissing Stanley McKinley is in the top twenty of the best sensations in the world. No, definitely in the top ten. I can’t tell what made me have the impulse to do this, but I did it anyway, and I don’t regret it. The instant our lips meet, my mind shuts down and the thoughts created by my anxiety stop altogether. A tingle courses my body, making me tremble against his chest.
I think time stops around us, although if it’s still moving, I don’t care. The only thing that has my complete attention is the kiss, the way his warm lips press against mine. I wait for a reaction, for him to pull away or to pull me closer. Anything that hints that I didn’t mistake our conversation and that he wants me too.
One.
Two.
Three kisses.
Three short kisses that try out the field, waiting for the moment to be mutual. Stanley stays paralyzed during the first two. It’s only on the third one where he moves, cupping my face with his hands and leans, claiming my mouth. His lips move over mine, hungry and yearning for me, turning the kiss intense and passionate. He traps my bottom lip with his teeth, biting it gently. The tip of his tongue swipes over the area, soothing the ache.
A shiver runs down my spine, small electric waves shooting up my system as I kiss him back with the same longing he’s putting into it. His kiss turns my legs into jelly, and everything around us is a blur that can’t keep me on high alert. I don’t care either. I just want to keep kissing him until there’s no air in my lungs, and my skin is on fire.
A pool of excitement and lust form in my belly, making me quiver with anticipation. I pass a leg over him and straddle his lap without breaking the kiss. I slide a hand over his chest, looking for more contact to obtain more of what he’s willing to give me. The warmth of his body trespasses the fabric of his shirt.
He tears our lips apart for a second, and his eyes focus on me. Surprise shines on his orbs, his mouth slightly open as if he was waiting to see if this is happening.
I can’t believe it either.
Two days ago, I was suffocating with the fact that I didn’t know how to feel about him. Hell, I even doubted our friendship.Was it ever just that?However, everything that happened tonight made me realize that Stanley isn’t just a friend. He’s the person that I first think of when something happens to me. He’s the one that jumps into my head when I have good news, or I want to hang out with someone.
This night was the final nail in my evaluation.
I’m willing to risk my friendship with Stanley if it means that we have a chance of being together.
“Bree,” he whispers, and I wait for him to say something else, but he just kisses me again. Stanley deepens it, sliding his tongue into my mouth.
I gasp eagerly.
His hands abandon my face, going to my back, descending to my thighs. He entertains himself, caressing the naked skin, and goosebumps travel up and down my body. The shirt has rolled up my hips, the black fabric almost revealing my underwear. His fingers explore the hem of my panties, teasing me. My system is on flames, burning with the force of a thousand fires.
The temperature of the room has risen considerably, and it’s thanks to us.
“Stanley,” I pronounce in a weak whisper, my voice thick with desire.
He spreads kisses all over my neck, focusing on tempting the sensitive skin. A moan escapes from my lips, making me sound like a wanton woman, but I have no excuses. I need him, his touch and his kisses. I can feel my cheeks bright red, my blood boiling, and wanting to explode. I know that he’s in the same condition because I can feel his hardness pressed against my center. A shiver hits my body, and I can’t help but roll my hips on his boner, seeking some kind of relief.
“Fuck, Bree,” Stanley mutters, his hands grabbing my ass, but he doesn’t stop my movements. He guides me, encouraging me to keep rolling my hips in a way that satisfies us both. We’re in a situation where we’ve stopped thinking. The pleasure is the only thing that matters.“Fuck.”
I agree with him, but I’m speechless from the heat. It feels so good. I crave more, and I need more. My body acts on its own when my hands grab the hem of his shirt, wanting to touch his warm skin. I want to know how it feels when his muscles tighten under my fingers, exploring zones that I haven’t seen of him.
