I can tell by the way she curls into me, by the way she presses her hips against mine, that she’s feeling it, too.
She needs to be held the same way I do. The biggest reason of all why I shouldn’t be dancing with her like this.
I should let her go.
Instead, I splay my fingers across the small of her back and press her more firmly into my body. For half a second, her groin melts fully into mine as I swivel my hips. The energy between us spikes, and my dick takes note.
I still don’t pull away.
With every passing heartbeat, I promise myself that I’ll step back and do the right thing.
Bel rests her head against my shoulder, angling her chin so her nose brushes the bare skin of my neck above my jacket collar.
She inhales. The warmth in my blood spikes to heat.
“You sniffin’ me?” I ask. My voice is gruff.
She scoffs, but then inhales again with a sigh, blowing her warm breath against my skin. “I am. You smell like happiness.”
“What does that mean?”
“Means I love the way I feel when I’m with you.” Annabel turns her head to glance up at me. Could be the darkness, but her eyes have this look in them. The look girls get when they’re into you. “I haven’t felt this good in so long, Beau.”
My heart thumps. What the hell—
How—
Jesus, how is that not supposed to make me wanna lean down and kiss her?
She’s so damn close. I’d just have to bend my neck and tilt my head to kiss that pretty little mouth good and hard.
Bel’s a smart woman. Passionate. Always has been. She’d be a fucking great kisser. I’m pretty damn great at it, too. Bel would call me out for being cocky, but it’s the truth. I love good, hard kissing. Just like I love hard, good fucking.
The two of us, Bel and I, being together like that—
I swallow and close my eyes. “I’m glad you feel better.”
“Do you? Feel better now?”
“I always feel better when I’m with you.”
The skin at the edges of her eyes crinkles. Fuck. I didn’t mean to say that. Then those eyes…they flick to my mouth, and she goes still against me.
My pulse goes apeshit. For a split second, I’m convinced she’s gonna kiss me, go up on her tippy toes and plant one right where I want her to.
Do it, my body begs. Just one. Just a kiss.
I wait, and I want, but I know. I know I wouldn’t be able to just kiss Bel because I’d want more.
I’d want to finally do everything with her I’ve been fantasizing about doing for seventeen fucking years.
I think about the question she asked me earlier. The one about why I don’t keep anyone around. I didn’t answer it then, but now, inside my head, I have that answer, and it scares me shitless.
I’m alone because that’s what’s best for everyone. I’m alone so I won’t destroy lives.
But more than anything else, Bel, I’m alone because no one compares to you.
To: John Riley Beauregard ([email protected])
From: Annabel Rhodes ([email protected])
February 2, 2004 6:53 AM EST
Subject: Um
Yeah. We almost kissed last night.
Or, really, I almost kissed you.
I feel hugely guilty. I have a boyfriend, and you have…whoever you have these days. I’ve been up all night thinking about it, and finally, I decided to fire up my laptop and get my thoughts down before I drown in them.
I think I have feelings for you, Beau. And last night, I was just having so much fun with you. Blowing off that party and hanging in our sweatpants. Holding our impromptu meeting of Word Porn. Dude, you get Jane Austen. And I have to admit, few things are sexier than a guy who can quote Darcy by heart.
And then you listened while I bitched yet *again* about my dad’s new girlfriend. You’re the world’s best listener, you know that?
I guess I just got carried away? I had a couple beers, and you had a couple beers, but I wasn’t drunk. Tipsy, maybe. But I think you’re so cute. Like, really cute.
Let’s be real, you’re smoking hot.
Still. I value our friendship so, so much. You’ve gotten me through some tough shit, and I’d like to think I’ve done the same for you. I would legit die if I made a move, or things between us changed, and I lost you somehow.
You said it best in one of your emails—that you hoped we’d still be in each other’s lives ten, twenty years down the road. I hope that, too. I just don’t think it’s worth risking all that time and all those potential memories for a hookup.
And I know you wouldn’t be just that for me—a one-time thing, a booty call. You’d mean so much more. I’d want so much more. And I’m not naïve. We’re young. In all likelihood, you’re headed off to the pros sooner rather than later. I wouldn’t want to hold you back or take your mind off your career. You have big ambitions, and that’s where you need to keep your focus. Not on some nerdy chick you met at a party in college. You’ll be traveling, working, living that fab millionaire life, and I’ll…still be here, I guess. Working on making my own dreams come true. I can so see that blowing up in our faces.