I Have Lived and I Have Loved - Willow Winters Page 0,30

Or an eagle. Not a little bird. I’m an eagle. I’m lethal.”

I laughed. “Go for a vulture. I think they’re bigger.”

“But they’re ugly.” He winked at me. “They aren’t beautiful like eagles.”

“You’re beautiful?”

“Fuck yeah.” He puffed his chest out again. “I could be in magazines, I’m so pretty.”

He wasn’t lying. Give him some high-fashion runway threads, and the guy could go to Paris.

As if sensing my thoughts, his eyes grew serious—or maybe he was reading from me.

Was this . . .

He leaned toward me.

I was almost tipping because my arms were still wrapped around my knees, and like all the other times, it was like he knew exactly what was happening with me. He touched my shoulder, steadying me, and I closed my eyes.

No guy should make me feel like I needed his touch to be anchored in place, but it had happened. Somehow, whether he wanted it or not, Ryan had become that anchor. I was starting to wonder if I could go on without his presence. I was spinning, but then his hand switched, moving toward my head, and his thumb came to rest against my cheek.

He was so close, his eyes lingering on my lips.

Were we going to do this?

And then, his lips were on mine.

They felt like home, as if I’d been kissing him forever already.

I let out a sigh, and my mouth opened. He moved forward, his mouth answering mine, and I felt his tongue slip against mine.

I wasn’t going to think. I was feeling, and I felt him pull me closer.

I’d kissed a few guys back home. And I’d had one boyfriend, but it wasn’t serious. Some heavy petting—that’d been it—and it hadn’t felt like this. Somehow, I wasn’t surprised one bit.

We lay back in the grass, his mouth still fused with mine. He was tasting, kissing, nipping, teasing me. Someone moaned, and I could feel his hands around my face, as if he were cradling me literally in the palm of his hand. I suddenly tasted salt.

They were tears. My tears.

I was kissing Ryan and crying at the same time.

He paused, lifting his head. “Are you—”

“Oh God.” I rolled away, curling in on myself. What was I doing? Seriously? Fucking crying as I was making out with a guy?

“Um . . .”

“I’m so sorry, Ryan.” I couldn’t look at him. The tears wouldn’t stop. I brushed at them, and they kept rolling. “I have no idea—” Nope. We both knew. Everyone knew.

I was mortified.

Then, instead of leaving awkward silence, he laughed.

Laughed.

I looked up, and his head hung between his knees. His shoulders were shaking.

“What . . .”

“I’m sorry.” He shook his head but more chuckles rang out. “I’m—this is every guy’s worst nightmare, to make a chick start bawling when you’re putting the moves on her.”

Oh. “You know why I’m crying,” I said gently. “It has nothing to do with you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, but still.” He gazed at me again. “Telling someone this story?”

He had a point.

My mouth twitched. “I’m so sorry.”

“I can hear the jokes. You kissed her so bad, she broke out into sobs. You kiss so sad, you literally made the girl cry.” He shook his head, his laughter subsiding. “No one can hear about this. No one.”

“Got it.”

“No one, Mac. I have a reputation to uphold.”

It was the second time he’d called me Mac. A rush of pleasure went through me.

I liked hearing that nickname from him.

But he was still waiting, and I nodded. “Got it. Not a word that I broke down in tears.”

“You can be crying. That’s fine, but I was out here consoling you—not putting the moves on you. That’s key.”

He seemed so serious, but like before, I could see dark humor lurking behind his eyes. I nodded. “Got it. I’m a crybaby, not a whore.”

“Well . . .”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I’m kidding.” And because I couldn’t help myself, I leaned forward and whispered, “But you have no worries. You’re a damn good kisser.” My lips met his again as I closed my eyes.

Someone groaned—maybe both of us—and he pulled me on top of him this time. He fell back, cradling me in his arms. And we kissed. Then we kissed some more.

Chapter Twelve

I was a hussy.

It had been almost dawn when Ryan and his friends dropped me off after the party.

I snuck in, but if I’d been expecting any big confrontation with my folks, I would’ve been disappointed. They hadn’t started moving around the house until around nine this morning,