Page 86 of A Pizza My Heart

He points down. “You did. Right here, right on this fucking beach I told you I loved you. You? You didn’t get it, so I forced myself to move on. Ihadto move on. I couldn’t keep pining.”

I jerk my head back at his words and the memory surfaces in my mind.

That night…it wasn’t just the lack of sleep. It wasn’t my imagination. It was real.

Foster wasactuallytelling me he loved me, and I blew him off like it was nothing.

“Oh god…” I mutter. “You did.”

“Yeah.” He stutters out a breath, bobbing his head up and down. “It crushed me when you didn’t get it.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You told me I was like a brother to you. There was no changing that.”

“But it has changed.”

He lifts his brows. “Has it though?”

“I-I think so,” I say, my voice shaky, full of uncertainty.

“Think so… See? That’s the problem here. I don’tthinkI like you—Iknowmy feelings are real. That’s not the case with you.”

I sigh, annoyed because it’s beginning to seem like we’re talking in circles. “I need time, Foster. You’ve apparently had years to adjust to this. I haven’t. This is all new to me. It scares me. I don’t want to jump into anything. I want to take this slow. I like the pretending thing we’re doing. It takes the pressure off. Can’t we just keep pretending?”

I beg him with my eyes to understand where I’m coming from on this.

He nods, conceding. He squats down on his haunches, his face now inches from mine. “Fair enough. Can I ask you something, though?”

“A question doesn’t guarantee an answer,” I reply, throwing his own words back at him.

“When I kissed you…what did you feel?”

“You didn’t give me a chance to feel anything. You—”

He captures my lips with his.

I’m frozen with surprise, unable to move.

But when he starts to pull away, I panic and lean toward him, shoving my hands into his hair and holding him close, begging him without words to stay just where he is.

I want to feel this.

He takes the invitation for what it is and deepens the kiss, darting his tongue out to trace along my bottom lip. I open for him, meeting his advances with an eagerness of my own. Our tongues swirl together and that rightness I felt the first time his lips were on mine is right there at the forefront again.

This doesn’t feel foreign. My lips were made for his.

A shiver racks through me when my back hits the cold truck bed. A tightness coils in my body when Foster’s weight presses down on top of me.

His knee finds its way between my thighs and the cool night air dances over my exposed skin. He shifts, and I see stars when my clit rubs against his denim-clad thigh. I don’t even try to hide the gasp that escapes.

He laughs against my mouth, his hand tracing up my rib cage and sliding under my oversized shirt as he trails his lips across my jaw and to my neck. He sucks and nips at me, his teeth scraping so delectably against my skin that I almost don’t realize he’s effortlessly pulled the cup of my bra down until I feel my exposed nipple brush against my shirt. He rolls the puckered bud through his fingers and grunts against me as my hips begin to move of their own accord.

I’m lying in the bed of Foster’s truck, letting him feel me up and riding his thigh like my life depends on it.

“What about now? What do you feel?”

His voice is raw, filled with desire.

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