Page 6 of Don't Puck His Best Friend
“Fact: I don’t.” His voice is quieter now, more serious, and when I look over at him, there’s something in his expression that makes my breath catch. “Trust me on that one.”
I want to ask what he means, but we’re pulling into the parking lot of a nice apartment complex, and suddenly the reality of what I’m doing hits me like a freight train. I’m about to sleep with a guy I just met. From a party. I don’t even know his middle name. This is everything I swore I wouldn’t do after Bobby.
But as Liam parks the truck and turns to look at me, those ocean-colored eyes searching my face, I realize I don’t care. For once in my carefully controlled life, I want to do something just because it feels good.
“Having second thoughts?” he asks, echoing my question from earlier.
“Third and fourth thoughts, actually,” I admit. “But I’m still here.”
“Good.” He reaches over and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear, the simple touch sending sparks down my spine. “Because I’ve been thinking about kissing you since we left the party.”
The elevator ride to his floor is an exercise in sexual tension. We’re standing on opposite sides of the small space, but I can feel the pull between us like it’s a physical thing. The mirrored walls reflect us back from every angle. Me clutching my purse like a lifeline, him leaning against the wall watching me with an intensity that makes me want to either run or throw myself at him.
Just before the doors open, he speaks up. “What do we call this?”
I blink. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what are the rules? I want to make sure we’re on the same page.”
It’s such an unexpectedly mature question that I’m momentarily thrown. The guys I usually date, well, the guys I used to date, would never think to ask something like that.
“One night,” I say finally. “No promises, no expectations, no sleepovers. We’re both adults who can make adult decisions without it meaning anything more than it is.”
“And what is it?”
I look at him directly. “Fun. Hopefully.”
The elevator dings and the doors slide open. He doesn’t move right away, just keeps studying my face like he’s trying to memorize it.
“One night,” he agrees finally. “One promise, though, if you want to stop, we stop. No questions, no arguments, and I’ll take you home.”
I offer a shy smile. “Okay.”
His apartment is cleaner than I expected, which probably says something terrible about my expectations of college guys. There’s a trophy case by the door that I try not to look too closely at, a pair of hockey gloves tossed on the kitchen counter, and a couch that looks actually comfortable instead of like something pulled off the side of the road.
“This is nice,” I say, because standing in his doorway making small talk seems safer than acknowledging the elephant in the room, which is that we both know why we’re here.
“Thanks. Can I get you some water? Or—”
“Liam.”
“Yeah?”
I turn to face him fully, my heart hammering against my ribs. “I don’t need water.”
Something shifts in his expression, heat flaring in his eyes. But instead of immediately closing the distance between us, he moves slowly, deliberately, giving me time to change my mind. When he’s close enough that I have to tilt my head back to look at him, he stops.
“You sure?”
Instead of answering, I rise up on my toes and kiss him.
My stomach flutters from the softness of his lips. It’s been so long since I’ve kissed a guy, and I forgot how good it feels when his lips move against mine. I taste beer on his breath as his hands settle on my waist, warm and sure, and I melt into him despite every rational thought in my head screaming that this is a terrible idea.
“This is such a bad idea,” I murmur against his lips. I can’t help my mind to mouth connection. The words just rolled out of me.
“The best ones usually are,” he responds, and then he’s walking me backwards toward the couch, never breaking the kiss.
We tumble onto the cushions in a tangle of limbs and breathless laughter. His hands are in my hair, mine are fisted in his t-shirt, and every rational thought I’ve ever had is rapidly evacuating my brain.
