I match her step. “And you’re the one who looked at me like you wanted to fuck me.”
She gasps, and her eyes grow two sizes.
She takes another step closer. “You’re the one who kissed me.”
I match it again. “And you’re the one who kissed me back.”
“It was a fluke.”
“Is that what you’re telling yourself?”
Her nostrils flare.
And then we’re kissing.
I don’t know who grabbed for who, but it’s happening, and I don’t want to let go or think about it too much.
She grunts when her back falls against the nearest wall, but we don’t break our contact. I press against her, caging her in and pushing my tongue inside her sweet mouth.
She moans the moment our tongues meet, and I drive my hips into her. The towel I’m wearing is restricting, but there’s no way she doesn’t feel how hard my cock is through the thin pajama shorts she changed into. I shove a knee between her legs, and she rocks against it almost at once, like she’s been waiting for something to take the edge off.
I cup her jaw, tilting her head to get just the angle I want, and I devour her like I’ve been wanting to for days. I slide my hands into her blonde locks, letting the silky waves slip through my fingers.
She feels good. So fucking good. Just as good as she did before. Hell, even better.
Kissing Caroline is like a drug, and I don’t think I ever want to come down from this high.
When I nibble on her bottom lip, she gasps and clutches my biceps, gliding up over my shoulders and back down my chest, fingertips tracing all the grooves of my abs. She dances her digits back up, over my neck, and buries her hands in my hair, holding me to her.
Or pushing me away.
She wrenches her mouth from mine, her hands moving to my chest, holding me at a distance as she gasps for air.
Her touch burns into me, marking me for life, I’m sure of it.
“What…” she starts, gulping in another breath. “What are we doing here, Cooper?”
“Kissing.”
A grin pulls at the corner of her lips, and she lets her hands drop away. I don’t waste a second, closing the gap between us again.
I grab her chin between my finger and thumb, tilting her face up so our eyes meet.
Her baby blues are full of worry and want. Questions she doesn’t want to voice.
She’s looking to me for help, yet she’s so scared of the answer.
She pulls her plump bottom lip between her teeth. The movement has me wanting to kiss her all over again.
And I do.
I use my thumb to pull it free, then I lean forward and suck it between my own lips, kissing away the red spot she created.
She moans, and we’re lost again.
Her hands fall to my hips, holding me tightly like she’s scared to let go and face reality.
I’m scared too…of not ever feeling this again.
I’ve kissed plenty of women, but I’ve never felt anything like this before.
Anything this natural.
Pure.
Raw.
I drag my mouth from hers, trailing kisses over her jaw, toward that spot just below her ear I’ve been wanting to kiss since we danced together.
“Coop…” she pleads quietly when my lips meet the sensitive spot.
For reprieve or more, I’m not sure.
“Just don’t overthink it,” I tell her.
“We have to overthink it. We’re best friends.”
I pull back, looking at her.
She looks so fucking hot, her hair a mess from my hands. Lips swollen from my kisses. Eyes full of lust from my touch.
“Then let’s not be best friends anymore. Let’s just be us.”
Her brows crumple. “What does that mean?”
“It means let’s not think about anything else. Let’s just focus on what feels good. Because this…” I place a kiss on her lips. “Us…” Another kiss. “Feels good.”
I drop my forehead to hers and let my lips linger against her mouth, not really kissing her, but not not kissing her either.
I close my eyes, breathing her in, committing the feel of her under my hands to memory just in case this is the last time I experience it.
“Tell me I’m not the only one who thinks that.”
My lips brush against hers with each word, and I feel it when she lets out a soft sigh.