Take Me To Bed: Bedtime Quickies Collection

Because that kiss…it didn’t happen. Not the way I intended.

It was supposed to reassure her everything would be okay.

But it didn’t. My little sentiment became more when she leaned into my embrace and raised her fucking head to say something while my lips were already on the move.

I should have pulled back. I didn’t have time.

I should have stopped myself. I couldn’t.

I should have done anything but let my lips fall to hers in an accidental kiss that had me wanting to do it over and over again. Lord, help me.

Her lips on mine.

Her breath as she gasped my name.

It changed everything.

I knew it.

She knew it.

I was tangled in her web, and I had to break free even if it meant leaving and never looking back.

So, I did what I had to do. I jumped up, ruffled her hair, then laughed it off right as Colton ran down the stairs.

My last words to Chloe: See you later, squirt. Except I didn’t. I haven’t seen her since, and her coming here reminded me why.

“Hey, Jake, can I borrow some of your cologne?” Colton barges into my room and heads straight for my dresser. “I may meet up with Zoe later and she loves this shit.”

“That’s because it reminds your girl of me.”

“Fuck you.” Colton picks up one of the footballs and throws it at me.

I catch it. My knee may have taken me out of the game, but my reflexes are on point. “It’s cute you want to play, but I have a final to study for.”

“You had four hours to study. Now, it’s time to play tour guide.”

Fuck me.

I’ve been laying here going over my notes, but all I can think about is seeing Chloe. I wonder if she looks different. Colton was on the phone with his mom one night when Chloe mentioned she wanted to go blonde. Her mom threw a fit and asked Colton to ask me what I thought. I told her I thought she was perfect the way she was.

I meant it. Lord fucking help me, I meant it.

“Earth to Jake!” Colton slaps me on the shoulder.

Shit.

Colton is standing by my bed and I’m thinking about how perfect his little sister is and how she’s eighteen and how—

No!

I can’t go there. If I do, I’ll never be able to show my face at the Prescotts again. I know me. If I allow myself to imagine, I’ll want—and wanting is bad.

For me.

For her.

For my friendship with Colton.