Page 27 of In Love with Lewis Prescott
“Too much vodka?”
The feel of his hand on my skin turns hot.
Nope. Definitely not the vodka.
“Something like that,” I mumble.
When his arm falls away, my skin tingles at the memory of his brief touch. I twist my head to glance up at him. “Thanks for...” I trail off when I see our faces are a mere two inches apart, because he’s leaning down to support me. “...saving me.”
All I can do is look between his cloudy stare and those perfectly plump lips of his.
“Um, any—any, uh, anytime.”
He clears his throat a half dozen times in that reply, his gaze on my lips. It all happens in a span of just seconds, but it feels like slow motion at the same time.
And that’s when it hits me. We’re going to kiss.
I lick my lips in anticipation, my breath hot and wet as it glides out of my mouth, my skin tingling, my body aching in anticipation of what Lewis Prescott’s lips and tongue are going to taste like.
When his mouth parts open, my mouth waters and my heartbeat kicks into a frenzied gear. And then he blinks. That dazed look fades, like he’s coming to his senses.
He shakes his head, and I feel his body loosen around me. A beat later he pulls his arms away and takes two steps back.
“Sorry, um, I gotta go check on something.”
Lewis jogs back into the house, and I’m left standing on the veranda, speechless and shocked at what almost happened.
Chapter Seven
Lewis
Christ.
That word rings in my head over and over like a siren as I jog back into the house, down the hall, and into my bedroom. I shut the door and pace the small space like a confused tiger prowling back and forth in a cage, my breath ragged, heart thundering.
I was a split second away from kissing Harper.
Seriously, Prescott. What the hell has gotten into you?
“Wish I knew,” I mutter to myself.
I’m one full day into this setup with Harper and I’ve already nearly blown it. This arrangement is strictly business. We both agreed to that. Harper is essentially my housemate for the next ninety days, and if we were to blur the lines by kissing—or doing anything physical—it would no doubt ruin things. Because hooking up with your housemate is rule number one on the list of things you’re never, ever supposed to do. It always, always, always complicates things.
Our arrangement is akin to a contract, an exchange of goods, like any other agreement two human beings could make. Getting physical would be a one-way ticket to fuck this all up.
You got pretty damn physical this morning.
I grit my teeth, wishing I could turn off that smart-ass part of my brain. I halt in the center of the room, drop my hands to my hips, and force myself to take a deep breath. This morning was different. Way, way different. It wasn’t intentional. It was an honest mistake caused by clumsiness and lack of sleep.
Is that why you jerked off too? Because you were clumsy and sleepy?
I grit my teeth and quietly admit defeat to myself. Okay, yeah, the decision to crank one out this morning was an undeniable physical and sexual moment. But that only involved me.
The almost kiss that happened seconds ago, though? That definitely didn’t involve just me.
Sure, it kicked off because Harper lost her balance...but I could have stopped gawking at her luscious-as-fuck lips and those mesmerizing eyes... I could have let go of her sexy little body...but I didn’t. Because I wanted to hold her. I wanted to touch her.
I wanted to kiss her...and I’m pretty sure she wanted to kiss me too.
