a lot of things.”
“I could.” A beat passed. “You could tell me.”
With a concerted effort, Travis stepped away, swiping a frustrated hand along the back of his neck. When had this conversation gotten away from him? Suddenly this girl thought she could call him out? Attempt to examine him? No. Fuck that. He didn’t even have the nerve to examine himself. Bottom line, this ruse she’d proposed wasn’t happening. Not a chance.
“We wouldn’t actually be . . . you know.” She shifted. “Doing it. Obviously.”
Travis scoffed. “You’d be the first to want to date Travis Ford without the perks.”
Her eyelids fell to half-mast. “It didn’t sound like you were offering them.”
He moved into her personal space, his voice emerging harsh. “I’m not.”
“Fine,” she said, so low he almost didn’t hear. “I wouldn’t know how to take full advantage of them anyway.”
Virgin. Alarm bells went off, but he stayed right where he was, listening to their rapid breaths. Reminding himself she was his best friend’s little sister didn’t help when she was this near, close enough to touch. To taste. He could no more move away from the approach of Georgie’s lips than he could take on a thousand-man army. If he didn’t kiss her, someone else would claim that first kiss. No. No, he didn’t want that. Fuck. That.
Their mouths met.
Parted for two surprised beats.
And melded back together.
Chapter Eleven
Oh. Whoa.
Clearly Georgie had been drugged by Boutique Tracy and this was a hallucination. She’d been silly to think Tracy forgave her so easily. Her organs were probably being harvested while she dream-kissed Travis in his bedroom. Okay, but how to account for the texture of his mouth? Texture had never been a factor in her fantasies, unless one counted those few times she’d practiced on her own hand. But she hadn’t done that since age thirteen.
Fine. Sixteen. Whatever.
In the past, she’d watched them kiss from an almost third-party standpoint, as if it played out on a movie screen. This? Right now? This was a drastic shift.
I’m kissing Travis Ford.
He tasted Georgie the way someone eats their first bite of tiramisu in a restaurant. A slow, savoring mouthful, followed by a gruff, appreciative groan. His head tipped to one side, eyes narrowing with suspicion as if maybe the kiss was a trick and she would harvest his organs if he gave in and enjoyed. But he gave in anyway, his eyes flickering with hunger. Surprise. He slid his fingers into her hair and took control of her head, angling it for himself. Their thighs pressed together . . . and he licked right in, stopping midtaste to flick their tongues together . . . before sweeping his through her mouth like a sensually destructive force.
And it definitely had that effect. For sure. Her legs turned the consistency of water; a rash of heat wove in patterns all over her skin. God, he was a lot taller than her. She’d always known that but hadn’t considered how it applied to the mechanics of kissing. Now Georgie knew his hair fell forward and mingled with her bangs, a soft intrusion in startling contrast to his mouth, which had started to move . . . faster. Oh God. Stop thinking and keep up.
Stop thinking about what the shudder in his chest meant. Or how he moved into her, until she had to balance on her toes to keep the kiss going, her head tilted all the way back, exposing her throat, making her so vulnerable. Vulnerable to the hand that left her hair and trailed down that exposed throat, a work-roughened thumb circling in the hollow—
God. That one little movement of his thumb set off fireworks below her waist. And he knew it, too, because he made an encouraging noise in his throat. One that said, Let it happen, baby girl. And she was. She was letting herself kiss Travis. How had she gotten here? Was he kissing her because he liked her? Or because she was the only one available? So many questions and all of them were being swallowed up by the sensations firing her blood, the give of Travis’s lips and how his tongue seemed to know exactly where hers would be, so he could rub them together.
Travis broke the kiss, his harsh pants leaving condensation on her mouth. “Let’s slow down some, baby girl. We didn’t, uh . . . fuck.” He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip and eyed her mouth, shaking his head. “I think there’s supposed to