Out of Character (True Colors 2)

Jasper exchanged his points for the cards, but it wasn’t until we were back in the car that he took the Frog Court card back out, holding the plexiglass case up to the light. It was a lot of case for a single card, but maybe if Bruno had displayed his cards like this, I would have better understood their rarity.

“Wow, it’s so pretty.” Jasper’s awestruck expression was even more intoxicating than his usual smile. Something about his tone and the light in his eyes made my mind flit back to my earlier thoughts. He could have asked me for anything right then. Anything.

“Yeah, it is.” My voice came out too husky, and I wasn’t looking at the card. “Thank you.”

“Didn’t think I’d say this, but it was my pleasure.” He turned toward me, and maybe he hadn’t been expecting how tight the quarters in the Mustang were. Maybe I’d been leaning too close. Maybe our bodies knew more than we did. Regardless of the reason, our faces were suddenly centimeters apart. I could feel his breath, warm in the chilly air.

I inhaled sharply, but I didn’t move away. Neither of us did. He opened his mouth slightly, pink tongue darting out to lick at his full lower lip. And all the want that had been simmering inside me all day finally bubbled over. I might die if I didn’t get to know what he tasted like. I might die if I did, but it was a chance I had to take. Closing the distance between us in a graceful move despite my frantically beating heart, I brushed my lips across his. And waited.

Chapter Thirteen

Jasper

One moment I was cold and excited and ogling a rare Odyssey card, and the next I was kissing Milo. And still excited and not cold at all, and hell, was that a priceless card I was holding? Thank God for decorative display cases because I would have crushed unsleeved cardboard.

Because.

Kissing.

Milo.

Right that second, his lips glancing across mine in a sweet, almost hesitant kiss. Anyone less strung out on adrenaline would have had the good sense to pull away. But all I seemed capable of doing was sighing and leaning in closer, all that delicious energy from winning surging inside me. My little noise must have seemed like encouragement to Milo because he repeated the gesture, lips lingering, less sweetness and more hunger.

That hunger blocked all my usual bad-idea sensors and replaced my inner warning system with an elevated awareness of Milo’s every atom. The softness of his lips. The faint brush of his stubble. His rapid breathing. His big hand connecting with my shoulder. But not to push me away. No, he hauled me even closer, my thigh getting up close and personal with the console. And not even the possibility of bruising was enough to slow me down.

I. Was. Kissing. Milo.

At fourteen, I’d dreamed of this nightly, a tightly held secret yearning, never uttered aloud to a single soul. And I’d had a million daring ideas for how to plant one on him, all of which faded come morning, stark reality keeping me quiet. He’d been my best friend, and that had been enough right up until he wasn’t. Never once had I considered that he might kiss me.

Further, he wasn’t anything like Dream Milo. Dream Milo was smooth. Practiced. In charge. Effortlessly talented at kissing. This Milo was…tentative. A little awkward, which was usually my forte. However, I’d kissed enough actual people since those dreams of Milo to know where noses went and how to manage the art of both kissing and breathing at the same time.

Mixing light, fluttery kisses with harder presses, Milo seemed to be still figuring out everything from the right amount of pressure to the position of his face. And his fumbling should have been a turnoff, should have made me laugh at the least. Because Milo Lionetti being bad at kissing? No one would believe me.

And yet there I was, still kissing him back, actively enjoying the process of stumbling our way from eager-but-bad to better to starving-for-more to brilliant bursts of pleasure radiating with each pass of our lips. And somewhere in the middle of my neurons having a fireworks show, Milo gasped again. Him forgetting to breathe was one the sexiest things I’d ever seen, and I couldn’t resist taking advantage of his parted lips to deepen the kiss. Our tongues met, making a fresh round of sparks explode behind my eyes, and—

Honk. Somewhere deeper in the parking garage a car honked and we flew apart. I looked around, but our windows were all foggy and I couldn’t see anything.

“What the heck?” Milo looked like a beautiful wreck, bright-eyed, lips swollen, cheeks flushed. But his hotness transformed into horror, pink cheeks going pale and tone shifting from husky to indignant.