This could go too far.
But too far is precisely what I’m craving.
I lower my fingers to his belt, and he gives me the exact same reaction as he did that night in the bathroom, warning me with a low grunt. Knowing I’m the reason for his thinning self-control enthralls me in a way I can’t fathom. Determined to see how far I can push him, I keep my hands there, teasing, tugging at his waistband until he snaps. Squeezing my cheeks with one hand, he looks me dead in the eyes as if to drill the warning into my brain. He doesn’t need to speak. I know exactly what his eyes are saying: Do that again and I might just have to bend you over.
My heart thundering out of control, I nod, and his mouth latches onto mine again. Next thing I know, I’m lying flat on the old, creaking wood flooring of the tree house with Will perched over me. He flips my shirt up to scatter slow kisses across my stomach, and I squirm, grabbing his neck at the base and leading him back to my lips. I try to convince myself I’m just using him to get the pain out of my system. That this won’t change, nor heighten the way I feel about him.
But deep down, I know…
This is how you go from a dumb crush to liking someone. Really liking someone. But you know how you also go from a dumb crush to the real thing?
By letting the hot blond guy pop the button of your jeans.
I gasp at his initiative. Not because I don’t want him to—I want this more than I need air—but because I expected him to stop. To bail before it got this far. A kiss is just a kiss, but this? He’s got to know it would mean crossing another line, checking another step off my list. If we do this, he can’t possibly carry on with his “friends” bullshit.
I can’t silence a moan when his mouth trails along the curve of my jaw, attaching itself to the skin above my collarbone. He goes harder at the timid noises falling out of my mouth.
And… another thing gets harder.
I’m struck by a genius idea when he jerks my zipper down.
I should write a book.
How to get attached to a guy you know who won’t ever commit, written by Kassidy dumbass Kingston.
Will hoists himself up, staring down my face with heat, lust, and doubt in his gaze. He’s trying to decode my emotions, giving me one last chance to protest and save myself. But… his eyes. His fucking eyes.
They lure the truth out of me.
I’m totally falling for him, aren’t I?
Unable to handle his piercing stare a second longer, I lurch forward, trapping his bottom lip between my teeth. He responds by sneaking a hand inside my jeans and resting a finger atop my underwear. My breath hitches as his index glides up and down the fabric repeatedly, driving me completely mad. I’m a solid 95 percent sure he can feel my arousal through my panties, and the way he grunts in appreciation when his hand dips lower bumps it up to a hundred.
One more kiss.
One more touch.
I can’t get enough.
“Will.” I let out a breathy moan.
That’s his cue to start fingering me.
Kind of.
He rubs me, tortures me with slow, rough circles over my underwear.
Holy.
Freaking.
Shit.
I could punch him right now. How in the ever-loving hell can he make me feel this way without really touching me? A hint of a smirk tugs at his lips as his hand begins its climb toward my stomach. He pulls on my underwear, mere seconds away from crossing the point of no return, but just as his fingers start to slip under…
His phone rings.
Kassidy
The moment the loud ringtone cuts through the air, Will interrupts the kiss, disconnecting from me with a gravelly curse. His hand hasn’t moved one bit, still resting on the outer side of my underwear.
Seriously, phone?
Now?
Our eyes meet on the third ring. I expect him to be horrified by the previous events, crippled with regrets, but he looks… strangely calm. Not panicked, not scared.
Neutral.
And horny.
Definitely horny.
Maybe it just hasn’t sunk in yet.
Or…
Maybe he doesn’t regret it?
The ringing continues for long, beyond awkward seconds. When it becomes clear whoever’s calling is not quitting anytime soon, Will withdraws his hand from my pants and props himself up onto his palms. I keep waiting for him to pick up his phone. Until he curses again, stretches his right arm out, and swipes something off the floor.
My phone.
It’s not his phone that stopped us.
It’s mine.
Someone is calling me. Evidently, the first name that pops into my mind is Kendrick’s, but the look on Will’s face when he takes a peek at the screen tells me I couldn’t be further from the truth. Cold is what he becomes. Any warmth that might’ve ever resided in his eyes is replaced by annoyance as he tosses me my phone. My heart drops at the caller ID.
Luke.
The call dies down as Will pushes to his feet, shamelessly adjusting the massive bulge straining against his pants. My eyes follow the motion, and my cheeks flare. Shit. He looks big.
Kass, what the fuck?
Embarrassed by my own train of thoughts, I tear my eyes away. If he saw me gawking at his dick, he doesn’t show it, clearing his throat and running a hand through his ruffled blond hair. My phone rings again, and I frown.
Why is Luke calling m—
Oh my God!
The date!
I had a date with Luke!
I check the time on my phone. 9:05. We were supposed to meet at eight. This is all my fault. I’m the one who asked him out. Even if it was for all the wrong reasons. He doesn’t deserve to be treated like that. I zip up my jeans—which is so awkward I could die—and press Answer.
“Hello?” My voice falters.
“Hey, Kass. It’s Luke. I’m so sorry I didn’t call earlier. You must’ve been waiting for me. I know we were supposed to meet at eight.”
A wave of relief rolls over me.
Then comes the guilt.
No, I wasn’t waiting for you. I was actually doing “things” with another guy, but thanks for calling.
Leave a message after the beep of shame.
“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”
“I’m not going to be able to make it. I’m sorry. Believe me, I’d much rather be with you, but my aunt needs me.”
“It’s fine. Tonight’s not really good for me either,” I say, overly aware of Will hanging on to my every word. “Can I ask what’s going on? Is Isabella okay?”
“Let’s just say you and I are going to be seeing a whole lot more of each other.”
I peek at Will from the corner of my eye. He’s tense. His jaw, his fists, his shoulders—all tense as a rock. He looks like he could easily tear the tree house to the ground with his bare hands.
“How come?” I ask.
“My aunt’s training me to fill in as store manager. I’ll be helping out for a while.”
“Why? What happened?”
He gives me the missing piece of the equation.
“Jenny just quit.”
I’d like to say that I’m surprised. But all I can think about after hearing the news is “Of course she did.” There is no world in which this could’ve ended well for her. If she hadn’t quit, I would’ve, and she had no way of knowing if I planned on telling someone. She probably didn’t want to risk it and ran away so she could keep fucking her dean without issue.