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“So just admit that you’re dating him.”
“I’m not dating him! We just go out to dinner every once in a while.”
I can’t help myself. I have to know everything. Liz is carrying my baby, so I need to know what I’m dealing with. “That sounds an awful lot like dating. Are you sleeping with him?”
“I’m not answering that,” she responds, crossing her arms.
It’s like an invisible force is pulling me. I take a step closer to her.
“Are you sleeping with him?” I ask again, calmly. I’m fighting to keep the jealousy leashed and my voice controlled.
“I’ve already answered that,” she hedges.
“Oh, no, you haven’t. You told me you weren’t sleeping with him when we were together eight months ago. You never said anything about sleeping with him now.”
She remains quietly seething. I see it, and I don’t care. One way or another, I’m going to get answers before I leave here.
I raise my hand to her face and tip up her chin. Let her look me in the eyes. I want to see the truth as she speaks it. “Don’t make me ask it again.” I mean for it to come out menacing, demanding. Instead, my voice escapes in a whisper, almost pleading. When her eyes soften and her lips gently part, I realize that she hears the pleading in my voice as well.
I shouldn’t be standing this close to her. It’s clearly a mistake. The attraction I felt all those months ago is still there. I try to push it down, but it’s always there. And now it is bubbling to the surface again.
Flying thousands of miles away didn’t work. Escaping to the middle of the ocean didn’t work. Standing inches away from her isn’t working.
Nothing has made me forget what it’s like to be with her.
Inhaling deeply, she invades my senses with her intoxicating scent.
“I’m not sleeping with him,” she finally whispers.
Heat flares through my body at her confession.
I put my hand on the back of her head. More fire invades me at the innocent contact. It feels as though years have passed since I was this close to her.
I see Liz swallow hard as her pupils dilate into dark, deep pools.
She made it clear that we’re only friends. Kissing her would be a real asshole thing to do. It would cross every boundary we’ve put in place.
I’m not going to kiss her.
Even if she wants me to, I’m not going to do it.
She needs to stop lookingat me like that.
Fuck.
I pull her head closer to mine and touch my lips to hers, a fleeting movement that only touches what I want to do. When I pull back, her tongue darts out to her lips, and I know she is tasting our kiss. I can’t help myself. I crush my mouth back down to hers. My tongue invades her mouth, and we hold nothing back.
All of the months of separation disappear in our kiss.
I want to take her, invade her, consume her. With no expectations, nothing but mind-blowing sex. Just like what we had before.
I groan into her mouth, and my hand releases the clip that is holding up her hair. I drop the clip to the floor and tangle my hands into her silken waves.
She hasn’t even touched me. How can one little kiss make me this horny? It’s like my body remembers her and wants her. My body doesn’t understand that we agreed to a completely platonic relationship.
She grips my shoulders and leans into me. Her arms wrap around my neck, and she presses close and deepens the kiss.
I feel her surrender as we melt into each other.
