Page 62 of Feels Like Love
“No. Not exactly.”
“Wren.” My blood was pumping, vision turning red. “You have three seconds to tell me exactly what happened.”
“Calm down, caveman. Geez.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re not my brother.”
Thank fuck for that.
“What. Happened?” I was panting like a bull, ready to charge. Because if Arlo—or anyone—pressured Wren in any way…
“At the end of the date, he walked me to my car. And when he went to kiss me…” She sighed, and I scrutinized her expression. Did she want him to kiss her? Not want him to? “I turned my head at the last minute.”
Some of the fog cleared, though I was still pissed. I didn’t want to think of another man kissing Wren.Iwanted to be the man to kiss her.
“Why?” I asked, trying—and failing—to remain calm.
“I don’t know.” She threw her hands in the air, and I’d rarely seen her so flustered. “Because I was nervous. Okay? I choked. And if that’s how I react to a kiss, what’s going to happen when Arlo or someone wants more?”
I went over to her and placed my hands on her shoulders, the silk of her shirt cool beneath my hands. “Wren. You should only do what you’re comfortable with. Don’t let anyone ever push you into something more if you’re not ready.”
“That’s the problem,” she said, eyes focused on her hands, which were smoothing up and down her thighs. Slowly, she stopped and lifted her head, her eyes pinning me with their intensity. “I want more.”
If I weren’t careful, I’d get sucked into thinking she wanted more with me.
“Wren.” I started massaging her shoulders through her shirt, needing to do something with my hands. “Wren,” I sighed. I could feel my defenses lowering, my resolve weakening. I hated seeing her so distressed. Even when we were kids, if it was in my power to fix something for her, I did. And while we weren’t kids anymore, I still wanted to make things better for her.
“Are you opposed…” She swallowed, glancing away. “Is it because you aren’t attracted to me?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. Was she serious? Me—not attracted to her? And here I thought it was completely obvious. It had been getting harder and harder to hide my feelings—and my body’s reaction to her—what with all the time we spent together.
“No. That’s not it.” I couldn’t say anything else, not without telling her everything.
I slid my hands up her neck, into her hair. She let out the sexiest damn moan. My cock hardened, breath bottoming out. I’d imagined it so many times—kissing her, touching her. And these past few weeks, I’d grown more complacent. I’d gotten used to being in her space, placing my hand to her lower back. Hugging her whenever I felt like it. And then the picture she’d sent me of her breasts…
“Is it because I’m younger?”
I barked out a laugh before she pressed her finger to my lips, reminding me to be quiet with River sleeping just down the hall. “No.”
We were only six years apart. Our age difference didn’t bother me. That was the least of my worries.
“Because of Liam?”
I nodded, latching on to the obvious answer.And because I’m so in love with you, and my head is already fucked up enough as it is.
I mean, I’d made a fake online dating profile to “keep an eye on her.” I’d lied to her brother about the reason for it. I was her dating coach, but I wanted to date her. I wanted to be the one to kiss her. Not this Arlo guy. Not someone else. Butme.
I tilted my forehead to hers, sliding my fingers into her hair. I shouldn’t kiss her, but god how I wanted to.
She placed her hands on my chest, and my skin tingled from her touch. I trailed my nose along her skin. She smelled amazing, felt amazing. Our noses were touching, lips so close. She drew in a shaky breath, pupils blown out and darkening the iris like a lunar eclipse.
“Bennett,” she murmured, and I could feel her breath against my lips. Warm. Inviting. “Please.”
“Please what?”
I wanted to hear her say the words, even if they weren’t real. At least for a moment, I’d allow myself to pretend.
“I want you to kiss me. I’maskingyou to kiss me.”
I rubbed my nose against hers, not wanting to lose contact for even a second. It was so easy to get lost in the fantasy. To believe it was real. It felt real—the way she was looking at me, her body’s response.
