So. Freaking. Close.
“I don’t want to do this,” he rasps.
A jolt of electricity tears through me when he grips my waist with one hand and jerks my body flush to his.
What is he doing?
“Or this.” His available hand slowly climbs up my bare arm, unleashing shivers all over my body. I think he can feel my goose bumps because he smirks, sweeping my hair over my shoulder and exposing my neck.
“Will, you’re… you’re drunk.” My voice trembles.
God, the effect this guy has on me.
“I don’t want to do this.” He completely disregards me, cupping my face into his palm and skimming his finger across my cheek. But it’s when he runs his thumb along my bottom lip that I know…
I’m not getting out of this bathroom with my heart intact.
“I didn’t want it to be you earlier.”
Internal scream.
“And I am not fucking dying to lift you up on that counter and kiss you right now,” he says roughly, inches away from my mouth, so close I can smell the liquor on his breath. “That enough lies for you, control freak?”
Right then, I really stop breathing. Not because of what he just said. But because of the move he makes. The move that’s going to change everything.
He grabs the back of my neck and crashes his mouth against mine. Before my body’s even had the chance to cue in my brain on what’s happening, I’m kissing him back, repaying every touch, every sensation with interest. Our kisses start soft, slow, harmless, but the second he sucks my lower lip between his teeth, all bets are off.
His tongue slides into my mouth, and I’m pretty sure if we were in a cartoon, he’d see my heart dramatically jumping out of my chest. My fingers wander into his hair, fisting it, pulling it, while his travel from my shoulders, to my arms, to my hips. Just like that, we go from testing the waters to letting it drown us.
You are so going to get hurt, my voice of reason screams.
Shut up and enjoy the ride, my heart counters.
We sway back and forth, our mouths moving in sync like two pieces of a puzzle finally falling back together. It’s perfect. And it terrifies me. Because a first kiss will usually tell you if two people are a fit, show you whether you can see a relationship going somewhere. And, right now, I can see myself doing way more than making out with him in a bathroom.
For lack of a better term, I’m fucked.
Banding his hands around the back of my thighs, he plants me on the counter without a warning. I grasp at his collar, yearning for the high I’ve been denying myself. He wedges his way in between my legs, strong arms closing around me as I allow my fingers to slip inside his unbuttoned shirt. I explore his body, memorizing every curve, every muscle. I’m not entirely sure I’m in control of my own actions when my hand drops to his belt. It lasts a second, if that, but his reaction is instant.
He grunts into my mouth.
Oh.
I jerk my hands away, but it’s too late.
Shit just got real.
I can’t muffle a moan when he grips my thigh, slowly bunching up the hem of my dress and squeezing my leg to the point of leaving a mark.
Kass, what the hell are you doing? This is supposed to be a kiss. Not porn with clothes on.
I’m overwhelmed by how much I want him. Sirens blare in my head, begging me to hit the brakes before we crash and burn. My instincts say if I don’t stop this, he won’t either. If I don’t move away, none of us will and we might end up…
“Kass, get your ass downstairs. The Uber is her—”
Will and I lurch away from each other so fast that I accidentally bump the back of my head against the mirror. Zoey stands in the doorway, mouth hanging, eyes as big as the mistake we just made.
“Oh, Lord, I’m sorry. I didn’t… I had no… I’m just going to…” She staggers out the door.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
Then comes the moment I dreaded the most. The sobering moment where we fall back down to earth and let it sink in. Silent, we stare at each other, both chasing our breath. This has to be the first time I’ve ever seen Will speechless.
He’s shocked.
Well, that makes two of us.
In a moment of panic, I do the only thing I can think of: push to my feet, swing the door open, and bolt. I check the room where I left Morgan, only to find it empty. Hurrying down the stairs, I spot Zoey near the entrance and drag her out of the house to catch our Uber, where she tells me Morgan is already passed out.
I plop down into the passenger seat, attempting to wrap my mind around what just happened. Unable to believe that Will just kissed me.
That I kissed Will.
That we kissed.
In the bathroom.
Hard.
“Look who finally took my advice,” Zoey sneers from the back seat as we speed off into the night.
Kassidy
Someone once told me the first moment of waking up after a night out is the worst. That it all comes down to ten seconds. The first five are made of blissful oblivion. For a short, brief memory lapse, you don’t remember anything, including the fact that your liver took a massive blow.
Then come the slightly less pleasant part. The “Holy fuck. My head hurts,” followed by the “Shit, that’s right. I got hammered last night,” and last, but not least, the “Crap, I have to barf.” Zoey and I are currently experiencing the latest. Except my phase three comes with an epic dose of regret.
We’ve agreed: last night was a bad idea.
The shots, the drinking games?
Bad idea.
The hot-as-fuck make-out session in the bathroom with my brother’s best friend?
An even worse idea.
Zoey’s been bugging me about it since the moment we woke up—my bad for inviting her to spend the night. One thing is for sure: I am definitely not going to forget kissing William Martins on her watch.
“Are we ever going to talk about what the hell I saw last night?” she hounds me.
I nestle my head under my pillow, releasing a heavy sigh. How exactly do you go about answering a question you’re asking yourself? On one hand, Will said so much. On the other, he didn’t say squat. He didn’t once mention if he had feelings for me. Or what this kiss would mean.
Or did he?
Any event that occurred before he caged me against the bathroom counter and kissed the breath out of me is a bit of a blur. All I remember vividly are his hands all over my body, his lips on mine, the way he—
“Kass, for fuck’s sake, I’m dying over here.” Zoey pulls me out of a daze. “What was that?’
“Well, you see, a kiss consists of two people locking lips—”
“Shut up.” She laughs. “You know what I mean.”
I pry my head out from under my pillow. “I don’t know, okay? It just happened.”
“Bullshit. A guy like that doesn’t just walk up to a girl like you and makes out with her.”
I can’t help taking offence to her remark.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean that you’re… you. You’re a good, respectable girl, Kass. He wouldn’t have made a move like that without you giving him some sort of green light. You’re not like Callie, bless her soul.”
“Ouch.” I’m upset for her. “So much for being her friend?”