Three Sweet Nothings (Blindfold Club 5)

“Any regrets?”

I swallowed a breath, and felt brave. “Just that she fell asleep on us before we got to the good part.”

He grinned and shook his head with pleasant disbelief. “You’re something else, you know that?” He skimmed his fingertips over my cheek, curled his hand in my hair, and dragged me into his lap. We were naked, only the covers on his lap between us, as his lips found mine.

His closed mouth pressed tight but he adjusted the angle, and the kiss began to gather steam. His lips parted. His sweet, soft tongue sought mine, encouraging me. I fell deeper into him. What had started out as a simple meeting of mouths escalated into something fiery and passionate.

Oh, holy motherfucking hell.

I clasped the sides of his face, swept up in our desire. His hands were all over me. They caressed down my back, banded around me, and pulled me tight to him. We were breathless from the heat generated between us.

Inside my head I was rejoicing, and screaming at myself. This kiss was a beautiful nightmare, because it felt like it was filled with love. Was what we were doing right now breaching our agreement?

He must have had a similar thought, because abruptly the kiss was over. Kyle turned his head and cast his gaze to the edge of the bed, his chest rising and falling with his hurried breaths. “Okay, time to go.”

“Yup.” I scrambled off him in total agreement. Every second I remained with him was more dangerous than the last.

It was twenty-five degrees outside, but my kitchen was sweltering. My oven had poor circulation, so to cook the macarons evenly, I had to prop the door open with a wooden spoon. It had driven Grant from the room, which was a help. He was a big guy and took up a lot of room in my tiny workspace.

“How is it now,” I yelled around the corner to where he was sitting in my living room, “at work with Morgan?”

He paused whatever he was watching on my television. “She’s kept it professional.”

“What do you feel like ordering for dinner? Thai? Pizza?”

“Pizza, hey?”

I smiled knowingly. Grant would eat pizza for every meal if he could. The plan was to eat dinner while I baked, and then meet some of our friends for drinks. We were going to celebrate his re-release into the wild as a single male. As I was the only other single in our group, I joked I’d be his wingman and show him the ropes.

Only . . . I wasn’t single now, was I?

I sifted the dry ingredients into the meringue and began to fold the batter. “Go ahead and order it. I’m going to be piping these in a few minutes, and then they need to rest.”

I didn’t allow myself to think about last night, because when I did, my thoughts skipped right over the scorching hot sex and straight to the conversation afterward. To the kiss which had sent us both into a panic.

He used to kiss me like that, and I’d used those kisses as proof he loved me when he didn’t speak the words.

Last night Kyle had offered to drive me home, but he’d had two glasses of bourbon, so I took an Uber and collapsed into my bed feeling like a confused mess.

“Pizza’s been ordered.”

I lifted the rubber spatula and watched the tails slowly melt back into the batter, signaling I was done mixing. Another turn of my spatula could overdo it and ruin the cookie shells.

My phone chimed with a text message. I hadn’t heard from him all day, but why would I? This was supposed to be about sex only. He wasn’t going to ask me to a movie or fucking brunch.

My heartbeat picked up and my breath went shallow.

“Who are you texting?” A curious voice floated from around the corner.

Shit. “Uh . . . McAsshole.”

Heavy footsteps pounded closer until Grant came into view. “What the bloody hell? You gave him your number?”

“Yeah, like six years ago.”

Concern etched my friend’s face. “He’s decided to use it now, yeah? What’s that dickhead saying?”

“He wants to come over.”