Impressive that he’d remembered Bea’s boyfriend’s name and put them together. He was so bloody convincing he should take acting up for a living.
“Stella,” he said and my heart ping-ponged in my chest as humiliation, confusion, and a little lust fought to be first in line. “Can I have a word?” He beckoned me toward him and started walking away from everyone.
I followed him over the grass. What the hell was he doing here? I’d been such a complete lunatic last night. I’d never tried to kiss a man before. Why had I started with Beck Wilde? He was probably going to make us have some awkward conversation about how he thought of me as a friend, and I’d have to explain that last night hadn’t been about him—it had been about wine. And trying to make myself feel better. Maybe it had been a little about him, because he was so bloody nice to me on top of that six foot two of good looking. It was hard to resist without wine.
He stopped about twenty meters from where everyone was choosing their pottery, so no one would be able to hear what we were saying.
“Look, I’m really sorry about last night, Beck,” I said, trying to head off the talk he was about to initiate.
Beck pushed his hands through his hair as if he were gearing up to deliver bad news.
“You don’t need to worry,” I said. “I promise it won’t happen aga—”
He cupped my face in his hands, his warmth heating my skin.
“What?” What was happening? Why was he touching me? Was this part of the show? I searched his face, looking for answers.
“I’m going to kiss you now. Are you ready?” he asked.
I took a step back and he stepped forward, keeping his hands on my face.
“Did you hear me?” he asked.
“I don’t understand—”
Before I could finish my sentence, his lips were on mine, and sparks of energy raced from his lips across my skin.
What was happening? His mouth was soft but insistent, and he smelled of coconut shower gel, freshly mown grass, and something indescribable but undeniably male.
He broke our kiss but didn’t move away, instead resting his forehead against mine. This had to be for someone else’s benefit—he’d done this to prove we were a couple.
“I’ve been waiting to do that.” He straightened and took a half step back, as if he wanted to check not just my face, but my entire body’s reaction to his kiss. Which was entirely understandable because his kiss still reverberated from the bottom of my toes to the breath escaping from my lungs to the buzz of my jaw under his fingers.
I felt it everywhere.
“Did I miss something?” I stuttered, trying to figure out why he’d kissed me. Who was watching?
He snaked his arm around my waist, and he pulled me toward him, kissing me again, this time his tongue parting my lips. He groaned as he moved deeper and my insides tightened, my heart sped, and my skin pricked like popping candy under my tongue. My knees weakened and I had to lean into him to stop myself from falling. But it didn’t stop the dizziness, the way the world seemed to sway as he touched me.
“Christ,” he said, pulling away but keeping me in his arms. “I’m not quite sure how I’m going to be able to leave you alone for the rest of the day, but I’m going to have to. I’m thirty seconds away from pulling you down onto the grass and dry humping you like my fourteen-year-old self.”
I smiled up at him, confused and a little disorientated. “What . . . I mean, did something happen? Did someone say something?”
He paused, and there was a softness in his eyes I’d not seen before. “Last night . . . Well, I wasn’t expecting it. You were . . .”
“Hammered,” I finished for him.
He shrugged. “I didn’t want to take advantage last night. On my run this morning, I decided I didn’t want to wait a moment longer to kiss you.” His expression changed as he caught me—presumably looking as dazed and confused as I felt. “This is okay, right?” His thumb stroked my jaw. “Last night you seemed to be on for the kissing.”
This entire situation wa
s so weird. Last night I’d been a mess—a lunatic. And this morning, when I’d thought about trying to kiss him, all I’d felt was complete mortification. I hadn’t been picking out pottery to paint wondering if I still liked him or if he’d kiss me today, so I wasn’t prepared for his question. “It’s fine,” I replied. “Unexpected. It’s not because anyone has said something?” I asked.
“Stella, listen to me. I don’t kiss women because I have to. I kissed you because I wanted to. I want to.”
I wanted to turn away from him so he couldn’t see how much his kiss had affected me, no matter the shame from the previous evening. “Last night, I shouldn’t have—”
“Last night was last night.” He paused. “You’d had a lot to drink.”