Chapter 16

Ian

She smiled, nailing me right in the chest. "Only joking."

"Something tells me he'd be a little upset if he saw us right now." If she were mine, I would tear the other guy's limbs off.

"We're not doing anything wrong."

"Just the same, I wouldn't want my girlfriend climbing in bed with another guy. Ulterior motives or not."

"You don't have a girlfriend. You have girlfriends. Plural."

I didn't bother commenting on that. None of them were her.

"What do you think of Matt moving to Charlotte?" Her tone was so tentative I knew she wasn't completely comfortable with the idea. Not for the first time, I wondered why she was with him, other than companionship. They didn't seem to have any chemistry.

Despite the fear she didn't feel the same way about me, I cared too much about her to admit the truth before. I was the only family she had left. I'd been her quiet protector, her sounding board, her supporter, and shoulder to cry on. If she were to lose me, literally or metaphorically, it would kill her. Again, I thought about what Rivers had said. She'd just given me an opening. Maybe he was right. We were both at a different place in our lives now than when I'd first fallen. Perhaps being honest wouldn't derail almost thirty years of friendship.

Consequences be damned. "I need to talk to you. There's something I've been meaning to tell you." I winced. Not exactly how I wanted to begin.

"Really?" The way she drew out the question relayed her anxiety.

I looked down at her, cradled in the crook of my arm. Her dark caramel strands were drying to more of a cornflower and her pale lashes shadowed her cheeks. So damn beautiful. I couldn't just lay the truth on her, but she needed to understand I was serious about an impending talk. I'm not sure if I did it to hold myself accountable or to prepare her, but I closed my eyes and kissed her forehead. "We'll talk at Seasmoke, okay?" If this was a mistake, it couldn't be undone, but we'd deal. Somehow.

She leaned up on one elbow, and when I opened my eyes, she was staring down at me, her face close to mine. I could count all the cobalt specs in her irises, mingling with the twilight and stormy blue. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear that was relief in her eyes. Hope, perhaps. This wasn't her at all. Anyone said the word "talk" and she normally turned into a basket case.

Her gaze traveled over my face. "What's going on?" Her voice was husky. Tempting.

Earlier, I'd suspected she figured out what I'd been feeling, based off our discussion the other night and my reaction at Rick's house. I had no doubt now. None. She knew. The way she looked at me...it was something that should have been forbidden between us, something never tested or divulged.

Heat.

Carnal...freaking...desire.

She swallowed, the click like a shout in the room. I don't think she was breathing. I'm certain I forgot how. We were close enough to share air, for me to draw in her scent. My body tightened in response. She smelled like rain and lilac and everything pure in the world. My jaw clenched, gaze locking with hers.

She lifted a finger to brush a strand of hair from my forehead, her touch lingering longer than necessary. And then, she...bit...her...lower...lip. I followed the movement with my eyes, breath trapped in my lungs. Her hand faltered on my forehead as if suddenly unsure or becoming aware of what she was doing. Yet she didn't move away.

"Don't," I said, the ragged, hoarse voice not my own.

Don't touch me like that and not mean it. Don't use me because you're afraid of where your relationship with Matt is going. Don't do this now, finally, and then run away.

She swallowed again, her gaze lifting to the hand she stroked over my face. Slowly, inch by excruciating inch, she trailed that finger down my cheek, dangerously close to my mouth. Every goddamn nerve in my body lit like a fuse, burning, cindering.

"Summer," I ground out the a warning through a painfully clenched jaw. I grabbed her hand, intent on pushing it away, but found I wasn't capable. Christ, I wanted this so bad my heart hurt and lodged itself in my airway "Don't." My last plea before I lost my mind, begging her to decide.

Her leg shifted under the sheet, just a slight movement. The sound of her skin sliding against the cotton ramped my pulse to stroke levels. Then her leg brushed my thigh and the room vacated of air, of sound, of anything but her and me. Her gaze dropped to my mouth and that was it. I had no idea if she came toward me or if I closed the distance. All I knew for sure was I was toast.

Our lips met, a gentle feather touch, testing the waters of lunacy. Her warm breath exhaled a sweet caress over my mouth as uneven and ragged as my own. My muscles shook from the restraint, locked painfully rigid. I tried to keep still, to let her run the show, but the effort was killing me. Refusing to close my eyes, I watched her, suspended in a state of no-effing-way and this-was-happening.

Hyperaware, I was conscious of every part of me connected to her. Her breasts crushed against my arm. Her stomach pressed along my hip. Her leg tangled around mine. Her hand over my pounding heart. Her hair curtaining our faces. The heat from our bodies melding. And Christ, her mouth teasing the hell out of mine.

She paused a fraction of a beat, then her lids fell closed and she tilted her head, immediately deepening the kiss from barely there to fevered hunger. She ate at my mouth, driving me effing mad with tiny nips, alternating them with languid licks and sucking my lower lip. A weak, needy sound came from her throat-half protest, half encouragement.

There was my permission. Christ. I was only a man, after all. Flesh and blood and, at the moment, filled with more testosterone than the NFL. If I had to pour fifteen years of wanting her into one kiss, hell, I'd do it.

I drove my hand into her damp, rain-scented hair and, grabbing a fistful, I angled her head for better access. My tongue swept inside her mouth, colliding with hers in a slow dance that had me so hard it would leave a permanent zipper impression on my shaft. She tasted like peppermint and chocolate, smelled like sin and innocence wrapped into one perfect bundle. I eased back for air, thought screw it, and went right at her.

Heaven strike me, she was better than any warped fantasy I'd conjured in my head. Warm, soft, eager. Seeking more, I rolled, pressing her into the mattress, covering her body with the weight of mine. Her talented, gifted hands threaded in my hair as she arched into me.

I froze, a tether of rational thought connecting my body to my brain. My best friend was underneath me, my mouth devouring hers. Breathless, I broke away, lifted my head. Her heavy lids rose, exposing lust-saturated blue eyes clouded in desire. Her exhale skated over my jaw and stalled.

Then she started to come around, bit by bit, her eyes clearing, until I was forced to sit up and lean on my haunches, severing all contact. The loss was pain. Sheer pain.

Eyes wide with shock, she lifted a trembling hand to her swollen mouth. After taking a moment to recover, her gaze darting everywhere but at me, she tugged the shirt I'd loaned her over her knees and sat up. Her lips parted twice before she uttered anything. "The rain stopped."

Rain. Rain? Was she kidding? My heart was still racing, my pants cutting off circulation, and she wanted to discuss the weather?

She looked at me and quickly away. "Now that we got that out of our system-"

I stilled, then laughed with no amusement. Out of our system? Not even close.

As if seeking something to do with her hands, she settled a palm over her forearm and began kneading. Her nervous tell. "I better go."

She got as far as the doorway before I recovered. "Summer." She stopped, but didn't turn around. "We'll talk at Seasmoke."

Without a word, she left.