having a very difficult time remembering what those things were. All of the blood that should be providing my brain support seemed to have traveled south.
“I can’t.” My eyes remained shut but I sensed her moving a step closer to me. My heart thudded against my chest and every cell in my body was screaming for me to give in to all the pent-up passion, and hell, love that I’d felt for Olivia. “We can’t.”
“Why not?” she shot back.
I inhaled slowly through my nose and reminded myself that she deserved better than me. She deserved a man that wasn’t broken, a man that would have acknowledged when she opened her heart to him and wrote the most vulnerable letter, a man that wouldn’t have gone years without speaking to her.
A better man than me.
“It’s not a good idea.”
She was standing so close that I could feel the sensual sensation of her breath on my chest as she reasoned, “It’s just a kiss. And you owe me.”
My eyes opened. “I owe you?”
“Yes,” she replied confidently. “You should have been my first kiss. In that closet in O’Sullivan’s basement.”
Shit. I didn’t think she’d remember that. My eighth grade year I was at a party at Bryson O’Sullivan’s—who now owned the Tipsy Cow—when Bentley showed up with Olivia. I didn’t remember all the details, but I knew there was a game of Spin the Bottle and then Seven Minutes in Heaven where Olivia and I ended up in a closet.
I remember how small the space was and how scared I was to kiss Olivia. Scared that I would be like Scott from the movie Teen Wolf when he ended up in the closet with Boof. I was scared that if I kissed her, it wouldn’t just be a small peck. I remember we didn’t speak at all but just being that close to her in a dark, enclosed space had caused me to pop a massive boner. I panicked and opened the door before the time was up.
“But you freaked out and Timmy Simms was my first kiss.”
“The kid with the braces and really bad B.O.?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “I was so upset when you didn’t kiss me that I told myself I was going to kiss the next boy that I saw. And I rounded the corner to go up the stairs and guess who I ran smack into…”
“Timmy Simms?”
“Yep.”
“Damn.” I grimaced. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want you to apologize.” Her golden eyes glistened with desire as she stared up at me. “I want you to kiss me.”
She started to lift up on her tiptoes as her heavy lids closed.
“Wait,” I rasped.
Her eyes fluttered open.
“I have to tell you something. If I’m going to kiss you, you need to know something.”
She lowered back down, and I could see the concern in her eyes. I wasn’t trying to be dramatic, but there was no way I could do this without making a confession.
“I’ve been watching you. Doing yoga. In the morning.”
Her cheeks flushed and for a brief moment, I thought it was out of embarrassment. But then the corners of her mouth turned up and she said, “Good.”
“Good?” I repeated.
“Yeah. That was the plan.”
“The plan?”
“I mean not at first…The first time I did it I had no idea you’d moved in. But every morning since I did it hoping that you’d look out the window.”
“You did?” I’d had a feeling that was the case but hearing her say it was still hard to believe.
“Yes. I wanted you to stop seeing me as a little kid that followed you around. I wanted you to see me as—”
I didn’t need to hear more. My hands cupped her face and I lowered my mouth and captured hers. She sucked in a startled breath as my tongue slid between her lips. She met me lick for lick as her hands wrapped around my neck. Her soft, willing lips and suctioning kiss had my body surging with intense arousal. Desire whipped through me awakening every primal, male, caveman DNA.
Using the last bit of sanity and evolution I had, I broke our kiss.
“Why are you stopping?”
“Because this isn’t a good idea.”
“Why not?” Her lips were full and well kissed.
“I don’t…this can’t…I don’t want…” Now I had even less blood in my brain. I was so turned on I couldn’t think straight much less articulate what I was thinking.
“Haven’t you ever thought about it?” she asked.
“About what?”
“About what it would be like if we were together. If we had sex.”