“Hugo?”
“Is that his name?”
“That’s Jo’s cousin. And he has a huge crush on another woman. I’m not desperate enough to go for a guy who isn’t going to be into me.”
“But you were acting like you wanted to kiss him,” Wyatt points out.
“Oh. That.” I take a drink, hiding my face. That was such a dumb, embarrassing attempt. I can see that clearly now. Maybe I should ask for more scotch. A finger isn’t going to do a thing. My tolerance is too high.
Wyatt shrugs. “Since we’re being so honest today… I was jealous.”
His admission erases the awkwardness I’m feeling, filling me with something warm and sweet. “Were you now?” I prop my chin in my hand and gaze at him. The long lashes. The brilliant blue of his eyes. His full mouth.
He’s gorgeous, but it’s not just his handsomeness making my heart flutter. It’s what the honesty represents—vulnerability. And it cracks the shell around my heart faster and more effectively than any expensive dinner or gift ever could.
I realize I really like this honest Wyatt, who tells me how he really feels. It’s nice not to snipe at each other or brace for conflict, to be able to let my guard down.
“You shouldn’t have been jealous,” I say with a small smile, ready to return his candor. “I only tried to kiss him because I wanted to know if what I felt from our kiss was exclusive to you or not. I wanted to pretend it wasn’t, but I needed another guy to test my theory. The thing is, I couldn’t really kiss him because he has a crush on somebody else. So I just settled for a hug.”
“And…?”
“And”—I shrug, wishing I could travel back in time and tell myself not to bother—“nothing. I mean, he’s nice looking and he’s a decent guy, but that’s about as far as it went. Kind of anticlimactic.”
“Not anticlimactic. Very satisfying.” He grins. “I was thinking about the kiss too.”
“Is that so?” I say slowly, pleased that it was on his mind, too.
“I was…upset when it happened. I thought you were just messing with me, and I wanted to mess with you back.”
“You succeeded. It screwed up my headspace.”
And the crazy thing is that I really liked it. The pounding of my heart. The feel of his lips on mine. The hot, tingling sensation that spread all over me.
I finish my drink, then place the empty tumbler on the table. Resting my elbow against the back of the couch and propping my head in my hand, I gaze at him. Inhale his scent. He always smells so delicious—clean male, with something woodsy in there, and now the tiniest hin
t of scotch. Yummy.
He leans in. “Fact is, it backfired on me. That kiss was pretty much all I could think about for a while, and I hated the fact that you wrote that herpes text because I thought… Well, I didn’t know you didn’t.”
“And I was thinking it was unfair that I was attracted to a guy who dumped me so unceremoniously. So we’re even.” I smile. “Evenly foolish.”
“Not foolish. We were just too proud and too young to talk about it.”
That’s true. We were too young. I don’t know if I’d let him get away with it now. I’d probably bash his head with a wine glass…one that isn’t broken from his earlier home invasion.
“Well, we’re older now,” I say.
“Yep. But not too old.”
I can feel his breath against my cheek, feathery soft and slightly ticklish. Is he going to taste like Wyatt and scotch? The combination seems irresistible.
I start to narrow the distance between us, and he moves, taking my mouth.
He cradles the back of my neck, the touch hot and possessive, nothing like the awkward moves he made when we were in high school. But his lips touch mine with care, giving me a chance to pull back. I stay still, fusing our mouths. His kiss remains gentle and sweet, exploratory. My heart thuds in my chest, blood pumping through my veins.
The hell with it. Wrapping my hand around the base of his skull, I come up off the couch, pushing into him, onto him, flicking my tongue freely over his lips. A groan vibrates in his chest as he presses closer. The sound stokes me, pulling me happily into the web of bliss he’s creating around me. His mouth opens, his tongue sliding along mine. I dip into his mouth, just as he does the same with me. He tastes delicious, instantly addictive, and I know I can never give this up. There’s something about him that makes me feel drunk on life, on pleasure, and I want to have him now.
He caresses my shoulder, moving down my arm. Goosebumps rise, and I let out a shaky breath. There’s a crackling electricity between us—a deep, endless thirst that’s going to be impossible to satisfy.