An hour? If I had too much time to think about this, I’d probably convince myself that being alone with my best friend’s kid sister was the stupidest thing I’d ever done.
I’ll be there in forty-five minutes.
“Hey, Dad?” I heard Sloane say when we walked up to our parents’ cars, which were parked next to each other. “I need to go into the office for a few hours. Would you mind catching a ride with the Sorensons so Tackle can drop me off there?”
“We can drop you,” her father answered.
“There are some things I need to take care of in the city before I head home anyway,” I offered.
“I have a better idea,” said my father. “You take our car, and we’ll catch a ride with Ben and Carolina.” He tossed me the keys.
I had no idea if my father had an inkling of what was really going on. He didn’t let on like he did. My mother’s look, though, made me pray she kept quiet.
“I’ll be home later,” I said, walking over to hug her.
“If anything changes, let us know, so we don’t worry,” she whispered.
When Sloane walked to the passenger side of my parents’ car, I followed and opened it for her.
She didn’t say anything, and neither did I, but the air was thick between us. Was she thinking the same things I was? Did she want me the way I wanted her? Or did she think we were just going to “talk” like I’d said earlier?
“Where to?” I asked after our parents left and I was about to back the car up. “Still want to go to the diner?”
Sloane shook her head. “Boylston and Park.”
“What’s there?”
“A friend’s apartment. She’s in Florida with her parents for the rest of the month.”
“Sloane—”
“Don’t talk, Tackle. Just drive.”
I was all for not talking, but I wasn’t ready to drive yet. I turned in my seat, reached over, and grabbed the back of her neck. I was close enough to kiss her, but I didn’t. I looked into her blue eyes and brushed her honey-blonde hair from her face with my free hand.
“Kiss me,” she demanded. “Before you talk yourself out of it.”
I brought my lips to hers, and for the second time in my life, I kissed her. The only other time I had was on the night I walked her to her door after her senior prom. I’d planned to kiss her cheek, but at the last second, Sloane had turned her head and kissed my mouth instead.
I held her still as I pushed my tongue between her parted lips, savoring the realness of how she felt after all the hours I’d spent fantasizing about our mouths being fused together. If I were dreaming, I would’ve put my hand under her sweater, reached inside the cups of her bra, and felt the breasts that had teased me every time I showed up at the Clarksons’ backyard pool and she came outside in her barely there bright-orange bikini.
Unable to resist, I acted out my fantasy, shuddering when I felt her pebbled nipple against my palm. I moved her clothes out of my way and took my first taste of what I’d always considered forbidden fruit.
Sloane wove her fingers in my hair and pulled. I took one more lick and looked up at her. “You urging me on or want me to stop?”
“Both,” she groaned. “But I don’t want whatever is going to happen between us to be in a car in a parking garage.”
“Me either.” I covered her perfect breast with her bra and pulled her sweater down to her waist. I was so tempted to cup her mound to feel how wet she was for me, but I resisted. I took a deep breath, put the car in gear, and backed out of the parking space.
Sloane didn’t look at me once during our drive from the airport to her friend’s apartment.
“Should I look for a place on the street?” I asked.
“Her building has parking.”
“What is she? A millionaire?” Parking places in Boston went for more than some people paid for a house. To have an apartment in a building where parking was included was like winning the damn lottery.
She turned to me and smiled, which was exactly what I’d been hoping for. “Her father owns the building, so, yeah, I guess you could say she’s worth a lot of money.”