“Yeah?” I ask, moving my hand to the back of her neck.
She nods. “Yeah.” She licks her lips and briefly looks at mine.
I’ve seen this look before. It was once when we were in my Jeep. She wet her lips, leaned in, and I swear she wanted me to kiss her, but I was too much of a chickenshit to close the space between us.
Tonight though? Fuck, tonight, I don’t think I can hold back, not after everything we’ve been through over the last few days, not after seeing her interact with my moms, laughing and joking with them, and not after her claiming me for herself.
It feels right. Like our relationship has been building to this moment, the tension stretching like a rubber band until we’re both at snapping point—buzzing—ready for the next step.
I’m ready for the next step.
So fucking ready.
Gently, I pull her closer by the back of her neck and cock my head to the side, going in for the perfect angle. The space between us diminishes and just before I lay my lips on hers, I hear a sharp intake of air before her soft, perfect lips meld against mine.
It’s just a light press at first. I don’t move quickly, because I want to be able to gauge her reaction in case this isn’t what she wanted. But when her hands fall to the side of my head, and she intensifies the kiss, I know. This is exactly what she wants.
Thank fuck.
I pull her in closer until she’s sitting on my lap. I tilt my head back so she has a good angle, and I let her take over my mouth.
With slow, languid kisses, her lips feel like puffy clouds, soft and plush as they move over mine. When I first met her, her lips grabbed my attention, they intrigued me immediately, and now that she’s kissing me, I know I had good reason to stare at them. She’s making me lose all thought as they open over my mouth.
We both groan when our tongues clash against each other. I bury my hands into her thick hair, controlling the direction her head goes with my fingers, tilting her to the right, moving her back to the left.
Desperation claws at me, eating away at my veins as I try to claim her. The months we’ve known each other all spilling out onto the deck swing. The tension, the pent-up frustration, all the times I’ve wanted to touch her more than just a friend would.
Her kisses are slow, drugging, irresistible. Whereas mine feel urgent with a hint of desperation.
I grip her tighter, she moves in closer, her breasts brushing up against my chest and before I know what to do with myself, her hips start rocking over mine.
Ahh . . . fuck.
“Are you two done with the—”
Indie shoots off me so fast she nearly flies off the swing.
“Sorry, didn’t realize you two were making out,” Mama says. Leave it to Mama to point out the obvious. God. So awkward. “I don’t think your mom was aware that you’re make-out type of friends.” Leaning back inside the screen door, Mama shouts, “Did you know they made out, Laura?”
“What?” I hear the shrill cry of my mom’s voice and the pounding of her feet as she comes to the sliding glass door. I bury my head in my hands. “You caught them making out?”
“Yup, right there, on the swing, scene of the crime.”
“Tongue?” Mom asks.
“Too dark to tell.” Raising her voice, she says, “Linc, was there tongue?”
I glance at a mortified Indie and keep my eyes on her when I answer, “There was a small amount of tongue.”
Her eyes widen and then she buries her head in my shoulder. I put my arm around her and hold her close.
“Oh my God, there was tongue,” Mom says, announcing it loud enough for the neighbors to hear.
“They were tonguing,” Mama says, while clapping her hands to a typical baseball chant. “They were tonguing.”
“And this is why I can’t have people over,” I say to Indie as my moms cheer obnoxiously to the side.
Lincoln: Did you make it back to your place?
Indie: Yup. Scarlett and I just went shopping. Her parents gave her a two-hundred-dollar gift card for Target, and we just spent it all on food and Nerf guns.
Lincoln: Nerf guns, really?
Indie: Her idea, not mine. We got a target and we’re sitting on the couch, seeing who has the better aim.
Lincoln: Kind of jealous.
Indie: If I didn’t promise Scarlett some best-friend time, I’d invite you over. But you know, vaginas only.
Lincoln: I think for the first time in my life I wish I had a vagina.
Indie: ^^Things I don’t want to know.
Lincoln: LOL. Are we still on for tomorrow morning?
Indie: Yeah, get ready, because I’m going to kick your ass for missing our last session.
Lincoln: Wouldn’t expect anything else. Have fun with Scarlett. I’ll talk to you later. Bye, babe.
Indie: Bye, Castle.
I set my phone down and push both hands through my hair just as Hartley walks into the living room. He flops down on the couch next to me, a light smile on his face.
Uh-oh. I know that smile. It’s the same smile I have on my face, the cornball smile only a girl can put on a guy’s face.
“How was your Thanksgiving break?” I ask. “Eventful?”
“It was fine.”
“You’re a fucking liar,” I say, causing him to laugh. “Did something happen with Alice?”
“Maybe, but we don’t need to talk about that. What I want to know is why you had a goofy grin on your face. Did you make up with Indie?”
Not wanting to push Hartley, because he’s always been protective of his relationship with Alice, I say, “Yeah, we’re good.”
“How good?” He lifts a brow in my direction.
“We kissed.”
“Oh shit. Really?” Hartley reaches out and rubs his palm over my nipples. “My dude, getting it done.”
“Can you not?”
He frowns. “When have you ever not wanted me to rub your nipples?”
“All the time.” I push him away and laugh. “We kissed on the deck swing, my moms caught us—which in turn ended the night—and I haven’t seen her since.”
“Ouch. Have you spoken with her?”
“Yeah, we’re going to meet up tomorrow for leg day again.”
“Okay, so how are you going to greet her? Are you going to pucker up?”
I pick up the remote and flip through some channels mindlessly. “I haven’t really thought about it, actually. I don’t want to assume she’s going to want a kiss, but I also don’t want to disappoint her.”
“Ah, the conundrum of a complicated relationship. Fun, isn’t it?” I get the feeling Hartley’s talking about himself as well.
“Yeah. I think I need to have a conversation with her because I don’t know where this is going, and we have such different paths moving forward that I don’t want to hurt her . . . or have her hurt me.”
“You do have a sensitive heart.” He pulls on his shorts, covering his legs more. “Maybe skip out on the kiss, give her a high five, and then say we need to talk.”
“Oh, because that seems like a brilliant idea on how to make her second-guess everything that happened.”
“I never said I gave good advice.” He steals the remote from me and says, “Cake Wars is on, dude. What’s wrong with you?”