Chapter 17

Our lips meet. It feels right. It feels real.

I don’t push him away. I can’t. I refuse to.

He slides one of his palms to the center of my legs and rolls fingertips over my khakis, hardening me. His other palm finds the back of my head, and he brushes fingers through my hair. The kissing continues, and we heavily pant, needing and wanting each other, creating a fresh, and different relationship together.

I pull away from him, pant. “What are we doing, Car?”

“Caring for you,” he whispers, wiping spittle away from his lips with the back of his right hand.

“Is this what you want?”

“Since I first moved in. You drive me mad. I have more than a crush on you. You’re all I think about these days. The question is, do you want this like I do?”

I don’t have to think about it and say, “I do care for you and…”