Page 3 of The Pass Protection
“Nope,” she says, popping the p. “I’m here, Crew.”
Running my fingers through my hair, I stare at her. “Yes, you are.”
Tipping the bowl toward me, she adds, “I’ll buy another box for whoever has the Cinnamon Toast Crunch. I had the late-night munchies.”
Reaching into the cabinet, I pull down a glass. Holding it against the built-in water dispenser, I glance toward her. “They’re mine. Help yourself whenever you want.”
Turning, Bret swings her legs out in front of her rather than where her feet had rested on the countertop. That’s when I take in what she’s wearing in the low glow of the under-the-cabinet lighting. She’s in a green tank top and a pair of panties.
Fuck me.
Leaning with my back against the counter, I do my best to avoid looking at her. I know if I give into the temptation that is her, I’ll end up staring at her tits as I trail down all of her exposed flesh. Her perfectly toned olive skin.
Shit, I can feel the blood rushing to my cock right now with the brief thought of her body.
“Are you still upset with me?” Her words are low and timid, and I hate that she’s shying away.
Taking a deep breath, I tilt my head in her direction. “I’m not mad exactly. But did you think we’d never see each other again?”
“Honestly, I didn’t think so. I never come to CTU, and I figured you’d lose interest eventually. You can’t honestly say you’d carry on a friendship with someone you never see. Come on, Crew.”
“You’re right. I guess I was living in a delusional world. I thought we shared a moment at Q’s at Christmas. You told me you had a boyfriend, and I respected that, but I felt something between us. Didn’t you?”
Her eyes drop down to her lap as she turns away, avoiding eye contact with me. Bringing my glass to my mouth, I chug the water. I empty the contents in seconds before placing the glass into the kitchen sink.
I guess that’s my answer.
Turning, I start to storm out of our kitchen, but my name on her lips has my steps faltering. Glancing over my shoulder, I watch as Bret quickly erases the space between us. Her hand lands on my arm as she turns me back toward her. Our chests brush, her threadbare tank against my bare chest, as her hands find a home behind my neck.
Before I can react, she’s pulling my head down and crashing her lips against mine. I groan at the contact. Her plush, perfectly pink lips are smashed against mine. It’s a feeling I’ve thought about way too many times. As if I hadn’t just had her lips against mine.
Her tongue flicks against the seam of my lips, and I grant her the entrance she’s begging for. Our tongues brush against each other, and the shock that flows through my body has my dick growing rock hard. I know she can feel it, but I refuse to break the kiss.
I should not be kissing my teammate’s sister, hell, my coach’s daughter, but my brain refuses to step away from her.
Her hands slide up my neck, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of my neck as I pull her closer to my body before sliding my hands down her back, over her tight ass, and down her thighs. In one quick motion, I’m hoisting her in the air, and her legs wrap around my waist. My erection presses into her core where I can feel moisture pooling in the thin panties she’s wearing.
She grinds against my length, and I struggle with every fiber of my being not to carry her into my bedroom. But instead, I use my brain and halt our movements.
Her face heats as she scurries down my body. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t apologize,” I beg.
“I had to kiss you one last time.”
Wait, what? Who says this has to be the last time?
She must read the confusion on my face because she’s answering the questions I never spoke aloud. “We can’t do this, Crew. I need a place to live, and you’re my brother’s friend. We can’t cross this line.”
Reaching forward, I skate my thumb down her cheek before brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “But—”
“No, buts. This can’t happen again. I-I-I’m not ready to be in a relationship, and I don’t want to complicate things. It’s bad enough already.”
Blowing a frustrated sigh out of my nose, I lean forward, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. “Whatever you need, Bret.”
And with that, I turn and walk back to my bedroom. Crawling under the covers, I toss and turn some more and will sleep to take me. But it never does.
Instead the images of her in my arms, her tongue down my throat, assault my mind.
