Mine To Kiss (Southern Wedding 0.50)

He holds up his hand. "I need to say something," he says, and I can almost feel the tension in the room.

"Okay," I say, not sure why, but the way his tone is, I know that this conversation is one that I’m not going to be happy with. "Go ahead."

"Thank you," he says, looking down at his feet and then up again. "Last night." He looks at me, and I smile at him, remembering the best part of the night. "I spent the whole night replaying it over and over again in my head."

"Me, too," I say, and he just looks at me.

"I’m sorry I kissed you," he says, and the words feel like he just threw a bucket of ice water on me and not in any kind of refreshing way. He runs his hands through his hair again and holds his neck. My hands wring in front of me nervously, my heart feeling as if it’s sinking in my chest. "Even though I loved kissing you." His voice trembles. "I don’t want to ruin our friendship."

"What if it doesn’t ruin our friendship?" I finally say, looking at him. "What if we don’t let it ruin our friendship?"

"You mean a lot to me," he says, and this time, I groan.

"That is so much worse than it’s not you, it’s me." I try to make a joke out of it while I chase away the tears.

"It’s so not that," he says. "You." He points at me. "You literally are a dream come true, and I just don’t want to push anything on you." He looks down. "I know that you were drinking last night, and I would hate for you to think I took advantage of that. I never ever."

"What if I want you to kiss me again?" I ask, and his hand falls from his neck. "Like if I told you right now that I want you to kiss me when there is no alcohol in my system, and I’m refreshed, and it’s the day after. Would you kiss me?" I take a step toward him. "Because if truth be told, I’ve been waiting for you to kiss me for a really long time." I stand in front of him, and I can see his chest is rising and falling. I take a leap of faith and put my hands on his chest. "And if I’m really honest…" I look down nervously. "I wasn’t drunk at all. But for memory’s sake, I think we should share another kiss before we make the final decision." I take the final step to him, making our chests flush against each other. "I mean, if we aren’t going to even try, I’d like to make sure it’s what I remembered."

"Harlow." I’m not sure if it’s a question or a plea, but I move my hands up on his chest toward his neck.

"I feel a full reenactment is mandatory at this time." I stop talking when his mouth falls on mine. His tongue slides into my mouth, and I realize I was wrong last night. Because today, with his tongue twirling with mine, is the best kiss I’ve ever had. His hands go to my waist as he grips my hips, pulling me closer to him. I moan when I feel his cock erect, and the sudden need to have him on top of me is almost carnal. The need to jump on him and wrap my legs around his waist fills my head.

I move my hands down his shoulders toward his arms and slide to the front of his shirt, bunching it up in my hands. The kiss goes from soft to a needy kiss, and then he steps away from me. The both of us are panting as he looks at me. "That was…"

"That was insane." The words come out of my mouth like word vomit as my hand comes up to touch my lips. "Thank God I asked for a rematch because that"—I point at where we were just kissing—"that is so much better than last night."

"It was, wasn’t it?" He shakes his head almost in disbelief. "It wasn’t supposed to be so good."

"I mean, if we are good at kissing, can you imagine what else we are good at?" I wiggle my eyebrows at him.

"Get dressed," he tells me, and I just look at him. "I’m not going to go to second base without taking you out on a date."

"It’s nine o’clock in the morning," I remind him.

"We can go for breakfast." He runs his hands through his hair. "And then we can maybe go for a walk."

I look at him and peel the shirt off me, leaving me standing in the middle of the room with my tits out. "Or," I say, my heart beating and my stomach flip-flopping like a fish out of water, tossing my shirt to the side, "we can pretend every single time we met for coffee was a date, so technically, we are way ahead of the dating game, but way behind in the let’s-get-naked game." He just looks at me and doesn’t say a word. Shit, maybe this was a bad idea. The nervousness in my head turns to mortification, and I really wish I wasn’t standing here topless. I’m about to turn around and hope the floor opens up and swallows me when in one smooth motion, he reaches behind him and pulls his shirt over his head. I stare at him with my mouth open. His whole chest is defined, and you see every single muscle he has. "Holy shit." The words come out before I can stop them.