Page 48 of Brick Wall
“I’m a little confused here. Help a guy out.” He moves a step forward, almost boxing me in. “Why would you think I’m not into you?”
This entire conversation is so high school, but I know communication is essential, so I answer.
“You might as a friend, but I’m not your type.”
“And I told you this?”
“Well, no,” I fumble.
“Am I your type?”
“Yes,” I quietly admit in a breathy whisper. “But I don’t want my brothers to force you into anything.”
“Do I seem like a man that would be forced into anything?” He takes another step forward, and that familiar scent of cedar and citrus fills my lungs with happiness and desire.
“Well, no,” I reply, unsteady.
“Just to be clear, I like you, and I apologize if I ever made you doubt yourself. You are smart, beautiful, kind, and funny. I love being around you and look forward to seeing and talking with you.” He takes his large, warm hands, gently placing them on my face and cupping my cheeks. “And you are exactly my type.”
Before I can think, his lips crash down on mine.
His mouth is warm, and all I can taste iswhiskey, peppermint, and all him.
The kiss is slow at first, a little explorative, but then it picks up as I match his speed.
I can’t believe Sebastian Goodick is kissing me.
No, he’s not just kissing me; he’s devouring me.
I wrap my right hand around his neck to pull him in further to me. I need more, and apparently, so does Sebastian.
He takes another step forward, pushing me against the shed door without breaking our lips.
I move my head to get a better angle, but it’s enough to break the spell. Sebastian pulls back enough for me to internally moan.
“Fuck, sorry, I kind of lost control.”
He must see something on my face with that comment because he backpedals. “I mean, I’m not sorry for the kiss, but I’m sorry I lost control there.” There’s an awkward pause, and he adds, “Did I hurt you?”
Only when you stopped.
I shake my head no because I am physically fine. I just need to catch my breath. That kiss was intense and unexpected.
I sit down on the concrete floor because my legs are a little wobbly.
“We need to get back to the awards,” Sebastian says, but he sits down, albeit awkwardly, beside me. His words say one thing, but his actions say another. I’m going to go with his actions in this case because it does not look like Sebastian is getting up too quickly to return.
Do we really need to go back?
“I’m not sure what my brothers told you about tonight, but it’s not a real award ceremony.”
“They only told me it was an end-of-the-year party, and thatall the Moores would be in attendance.” The way he looks at me when he says the last bit so seriously makes my cheeks heat because his words sure sounded likeI came for you; atleast, that’s what my inner teenage girl is thinking.
What were we talking about? Oh right. The awards.
“The award ceremony is whatever my brothers make up, like the most enthusiastic counselor or the most likely person to fall out of a canoe,” I say with a laugh.
“Do they know?” His eyes bug out and his tone is dead serious.
