The one woman I’d always wanted with reckless abandon.
I kissed her how I wanted her. Recklessly, without a second of thought for what would happen when we broke this moment. Carelessly, without giving a shit about what we’d say to each other when this was done.
Without thinking about how much of a terrible idea this was.
There was no coming back from this. There was no way I’d ever be able to look Halley Dawson in the eye after knowing what it felt like to have her lips on mine, her sighs dancing across my mouth, her fingers wound in my shirt.
No. Fucking. Way. Back.
Why had I kissed her? It was simple. The look in her eye when she realized I wasn’t actually going to kiss her was a killer. No matter how she tried to hide it, I saw the disappointment that flashed there.
She’d wanted me to kiss her.
I hadn’t. I’d played her at her own game and kissed her cheek.
And for what? Where had it gotten me? Instead of pressing one little kiss to her plump red lips, she was now wrapped in my arms while we kissed and I nipped at her lower lips and teased her with my tongue.
With my cock hardening against the zipper of my shorts.
She could feel it. There was no way she couldn’t. Her hips were pressed against me. There wasn’t an inch of space between our bodies, and I knew I should let her go, but I couldn’t.
I just fucking couldn’t.
It was the first time I’d ever kissed her, and I didn’t want to stop.
It was uncontrollable.
The way I felt about her was dangerous.
Dangerous, because it consumed every bit of me. Dangerous, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to get this kiss out of my mind.
Because I knew I’d compare every kiss to this for the rest of my life.
But fuck if right now, at this moment, with her lips against mine, if I didn’t want to kiss anyone else.
Ever.
I knew it was the adrenaline speaking. It was the heat of the moment, the obsession of right now, the consuming sensation of her gripping onto my shirt. It was all of those things combining into one red hot ball of desire that wouldn’t fade by itself.
Shit.
Fuck.
I was fucked.
I slid my hand up Halley’s body until I cupped her face, my palms along the curve of her jaw, my fingers tickling her neck, my thumbs against her soft cheeks. Slowly, I pulled away, kissing her once, twice, three times. Tiny little pecks dotted against her lips that took all my restraint to pull away from.
I wanted to dot them everywhere. Her lips. Her cheeks. Her forehead. Her button nose.
Her jaw.
Her neck.
Her breasts.
Her stomach.
Along the inside of her thighs until they opened, leaving only one little place for me to kiss.
“What was that?” Halley whispered, her lips brushing mine.
It was a testament to how close we still were.
“I told you I wanted to kiss you,” I said in a rough voice. “I kissed your cheek because I knew that would happen.”
She didn’t speak. The silence hung heavy in the air between us, like a thick blanket of fog that covered the landscape.
We’d never be able to come back from that kiss.
I wasn’t stupid enough to think otherwise. There was literally no way back. For so long, I’d been able to box her into several little cubbyholes.
Crazy raccoon lady.
The mayor’s daughter.
The sassy librarian.
My little sister’s best friend.
All of those things had, at one point, given me a reason to not kiss her. The last was the most potent—my sister’s best friend.
Lifelong best friend.
It didn’t matter that she didn’t give a shit. It mattered to me. If it all went wrong, she’d be the one who suffered for a breakup.
It was easier to ignore everything to make Reagan’s life easier.
Now?
Now, there was no fucking chance of it.
The only way this would ever be fixed would be if Halley and I looked each other in the eye and said it would never happen.
Ever.
Ever.
Ever.
That was what I wanted to say.
It was just a kiss.
A hot, horny, long, deep, passionate kiss.
But a kiss all the same.
Kisses didn’t always have to mean something.
Sometimes they were just that—a kiss. This wasn’t one of them, but I’d lied well enough for years now. I could lie one more time, couldn’t I?
No.
I couldn’t lie to Halley.
About her? Sure? I could lie about her to every Tom, Dick, Harry, and fucking Beyoncé who came along and asked.
I couldn’t lie to her, though, and wasn’t that the very reason I’d chased her and kissed her?
I couldn’t take seeing the hurt in her eyes when she thought I was lying and didn’t want to kiss her.
There was something here. Between her and I. I’d never considered that it could be real, not before. Not until today. Until right now. Until seconds before I’d jumped off the stage and hauled her body against mine.
Jesus fucking Christ, the way she’d reacted before I kissed her cheek.
The intake of breath—the refusal to meet my eyes, the shakiness of her voice, the way she trembled when my exhale touched her skin.
Shit, she was fucking magic.
“I don’t know what to say now,” Halley whispered, her voice scratchy and broken.
“Don’t say anything,” I said back, my voice just as low. “I said I wanted to kiss you, and I have. That’s all there is to it, okay?”
She nodded, moving back from me. Her lipstick was smudged, and her eyes were bright, shining with the aftermath of emotion of our kiss.
I reached up and wiped my thumb at the corner of her mouth. I didn’t want her to leave this tent looking like she’d just had a huge make-out session, even if she had.
I knew her well enough to know she’d go home and feed the raccoons and ignore everyone else.
She stepped back, smiled, and wiped the other side of her mouth. It wasn’t perfect, but she dipped her head as she turned and pulled her compact mirror out of her purse.
She’d be fine now.
I blew out a long breath when the curtain swished shut. I still had to compile all today’s money and take it to the bank—and get rid of some kid’s churro in my bucket.
How did she do this every year?
I shook my head and got to it. It didn’t take me long to count all the money on the stage. When I was done, and I’d removed all traces of churro, I put it in the pink safety deposit box Halley favored and tucked it into my backpack.
I tossed it over my shoulders onto my back and made sure to tie the tent up behind me. That always amused me—there was nothing of value left inside, and anyone could break in and steal our stools and tally charts.
I bit back a laugh and quickly darted behind some stands when I caught a glimpse of Lindsay and her friends. She was perfectly put together as she always was and holding court as if we were all back in high school.
I’d never been one for the prom queen or even the head of the decorating committee.
Apparently, I liked the bookish girl with an affinity for snarky comebacks.
I dipped behind my parents’ stall. Mom and Dad were hard at work. Dad was seeing to the customers, and Mom was bundling cooking herbs in the back—she loved to sell packets of basil and thyme and other general spices. She beamed when she saw me, but I held up one finger for her to keep quiet.