Page 15 of Outspoken

His face is unreadable, but his gaze intensifies as he steps forward. I instinctively inch back toward the fridge, worried my body might lunge at him again.

“You can't use me,” he says, “if I want it.”

“Huh?”

His hands graze my shoulders, pinching a corner of my black leather jacket. Then his palm slowly trails along my skin until he cups the back of my neck.

My breath hitches.What the hell is happening?

“Don't apologize,” he says gruffly. “I shouldn't have turned away. Or…I don't know. Fuck. I don't know. We probably shouldn't.”

“You're not making sense.”

He's too close now, pinning me against the fridge. My heartbeat is pounding in my throat, but I won't deny I like his body heat. It has beenwaytoo long since I had a hookup—over a year. I'm a damn hypocrite for wanting to be with Miguel like this, but the thought of getting lost in his fit, masculine body and finding relief—any relief—is so very tempting.

He smirks. “I know. I've just been dreaming of kissing you for a really long time and never thought…”

Long time?Before I can question him more and make sense of what he's saying, he gently squeezes the back of my neck with soothing pressure, steadying me as he covers my mouth with his.

Oh god.

I don't care what he was babbling about or if things will be awkward tomorrow. I don’t even care how we stumbled our way into this. I give myself completely to the heat of his mouth and the slow strokes of his tongue. He’s a fucking phenomenal kisser, our lips finding a perfect, intoxicating rhythm.

He presses me harder into the fridge, and I moan as my body squirms. I drop the envelope of cash so my hands can trace the grooves of his abs and the unyielding curve of each pec.God, these pecs are heaven.I'm tempted to claw his shirt off. Instead, I bring one of his hands to cup my breast through my blouse, desperate for physical release and escape.

I need him to bend me over the table and fuck me until I forget everything.

He moans into my mouth, circling his thumb around my delighted, perky nipple. His other hand slides to my ass, squeezing until I lift my leg along his hip. Cupping my knee, he shoves his pelvis against mine, his large, firm cock threatening to tear the denim of our jeans.

He breaks the kiss to exhale my name. I bring my lips back to his, anticipating what's next—us tearing each other's clothes off and fucking right here in the kitchen.

This. This is exactly what I need—comfort, pleasure, a physical high to replace the drugs I should no longer take.

But everything stops. Miguel breaks our kiss and steps back, removing all contact. I moan a protest.

He runs an unsteady hand through his hair, shaking his head and breathing hard. “We…we shouldn't do this yet. I need to talk to Brody first about my intentions. And I really need to tell you—”

“Intentions?” I push away from the fridge, my mind still foggy with lust. As I stare at him, I grow more annoyed by the second. “What are you talking about? This is a hookup.”

He shakes his head. “Brody needs to know I’m not trying to take advantage of you.”

I laugh. “Aren't you?” He looks appalled, so I correct myself. “I mean, I know you're not taking advantage. I made the first move, but you only want a hookup, right? You don't need to tell Brody shit. We're adults, I'm a hypocrite, and I'm totally okay with what's happening. I want this.”Desperately need it.

The corners of his lips tighten. “I don’t like hookups. I should talk to him before we get involved.”

I blink, feeling like I've stepped in quicksand and am sinking too fast to save myself. The Miguel from Brody’s stories is real—the one who jumps blindly into relationships and falls for women on first dates. Had I met this side of him first, I would have kicked his ass out the door. You can’t actually love someone before you've gotten to know them.

Yet, I didn’t meet this Miguel first, and it's fucking with me. I met the reliable, generous, slightly goofy side of him. He goes above and beyond for his friends, offers comfort during nervous breakdowns, and he helped with the couch and…

Ugh. I’m going down a rabbit hole.Whatever he’s trying to start between us can’t happen. This is all too much, and I’m simply a mess.

I hug my waist and the calm tone of my voice surprises me. “We’re not getting involved, Miguel. I enjoy your company, but we're…I don't know. Acquaintances. I don’t want a relationship. I thought we were thinking the same thing about a casual hookup, then we'd go back to our separate lives.”

An ache blooms in my chest when I say 'separate'. I ignore it. He's Brody's friend. We shouldn't be anything more than acquaintances.

His shoulders drop. “I can’t do casual. I feel something for you.”

“Feel what? We barely know each other.”

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