Chapter 21
Finally.
It’s the lone thought bouncing around in my skull as I feel the soft, curious press of Aubrey’s lips. I don’t move for a moment. My mind is too busy, too lost to instruct me on what to do next.
She’s right here, pressed so close to me that I’d bet she can feel my heart pounding against my rib cage, excited but downright terrified. Her perfume surrounds me, and I breathe it in through my nose, shivering slightly.
Eyes squeezed shut, she’s unaware of the way I’m staring down at her.
Or maybe she can feel how confused I am.
How with every second that our lips remain pressed together, I sink deeper and deeper into a pool of the unknown.
The dark water drifts over my shoulders, coaxing me to dive beneath the surface and see what’s waiting.
Heat pulses where she’s touching me, her fingers branding my hip and neck. I’m throbbing deep beneath my skin as she presses harder and shifts impossibly closer to me. Her chest glides across mine, and my breath hitches in my throat. The pink tint on her cheeks deepens, her lashes fluttering.
Suddenly, I’m moving.
Aubrey’s lips glide to the corner of my mouth when I fist the thin, tight material of her dress and grab her waist. A soft, surprised sound escapes her before I steal it, kissing her more firmly than she kissed me.
Curiosity floods my system and mixes with the instant satisfaction, creating something that has me shutting the front door and pressing her up against it.
She’s so fucking soft. Warm and plush and so, so out of my league.
I feel the curve of her hip and strain to breathe past the moan caught in my throat.
Her body arches away from the wall, and every inch of her presses against me, short-circuiting my brain.
I want more, and fuck, I shouldn’t. She’s not mine to touch like this.
To kiss and taste . . . even if she’s not doing a thing to stop me.
No, she’s not pulling away.
The fingers winding through my damp hair curl and pull as she drags me closer. I let her, not anywhere close to done here. Not yet. Consequences be damned.
The backs of my fingers climb the length of her silky-smooth throat before I cup her jaw and tilt her head back just enough that I can deepen our kiss. Heat blooms beneath my touch. I run my tongue along the length of her bottom lip, tasting what’s left of her lip gloss for the very first time.
Artificial strawberries fill my mouth, and I fight off a grin at the sweetness. It’s so innocent. A blaring contradiction to the sharp-tongued, headstrong woman kissing me like she’s trying to take me apart piece by piece.
I trace the dip in the centre of her chin with my thumb and drag my hand higher up her waist. It fills my hand in a way that makes my head spin. She’s a dream of round edges and satin skin. I’m so firm against her, my body crafted by a career in sports, yet together . . . we fit.
My cock presses uncomfortably against the front of my shorts, stiff and aching.
I keep myself held back enough that it won’t dig into her, but the lust zapping through me won’t dull.
Instead, it’s reminding me that everything is changing.
Guilt tries to pull me away, but I can’t move. Not in any direction but forward.
The fingers on my hip dig deeper, desperate, and I groan.
It’s loud, too loud for either of us to pretend we didn’t hear it.
I don’t think I care right now, anyway. The only thing I know is that I want her to make me do it again.
I’ll do just about anything for her to keep her hands on me, her scent in my nose and heat battling against mine.
Her crown touches the wall, and I shift closer, our bodies completely aligned. The firm press of our middles sets me ablaze. The backs of my eyes flash with white starbursts, and I jerk forward, digging my rigid length against the pulled fabric between her legs.
I release her waist and press my hand to the wall beside her head before I touch her more than I should.
My chest heaves as I drag my tongue over the swollen length of her bottom lip one more time, then pull away.
She releases a low, displeased noise before swallowing it, keeping her eyes shut as I stare at her.
From this close, I can see everything. Every pore and freckle, the baby hairs at her temples that she’s never been able to tame, and the cluster of lashes on her left eye that are just the slightest bit lighter than the rest. I settle my forehead against hers and inhale to clear the mud from my thoughts.
It’s impossible, though. Not when I’ve still got her face in my hand and my cock nestled against her body. My previous confusion hasn’t been settled. Her sudden presence was surprising enough, but I wasn’t ready for this.
“Are you still angry with me?” I rasp, hardly recognizing the sound of my own voice.
Her face scrunches as she squeezes her eyes shut harder than before. The silence around us is starting to eat at me. My skin itches with discomfort. The guilt I battled off makes another appearance, and I’m weaker now. Less confident in my actions.
“Aubrey?”
She untangles her fingers from my hair and lowers her hand. It falls between us, her nails ghosting over my chest as she opens her eyes and stares at where we touch. I capture her chin between my thumb and forefinger and lift it, forcing her gaze up to mine.
The sheer panic waiting for me makes me flinch.
Before she can say anything, I’m releasing her and taking two steps back. She’s still plastered to the door, and as the heat between us dies off, I’m hit with the full force of what’s just happened. Ice water runs down my spine, freezing my blood.
“I need to go,” she whispers, already spinning around.
Panic races up my throat, seizing it around a single word. “Wait.”
She pauses with her hand on the doorknob.
The tension in my muscles is obvious, but so is the way she’s still so pink.
From her head down to her toes, I can see that what I just felt wasn’t one-sided.
At least not entirely. There’s a tremble in her knees that wasn’t there when she showed up, and as wrong as it may be, I’m relieved.
“At least let me drive you home.”
Her shoulders slump forward. “Please don’t. I’m going to call an Uber. It’s what I should have done earlier.”
“Earlier?” I ask, unaware of the few inches I’ve moved.
Jealousy. That’s what’s beating at my chest like an angry fist.
It’s the same sensation I felt the entire time I was watching and listening to her date. The genuine enthusiasm in her replies and curiosity in her questions. She didn’t ask them just so she could find something to fill the silence, and that carved a hole right through me.
Then there was the hand holding.
I push my tongue against my teeth before blowing out a rough breath.
It shouldn’t have bothered me. I was the one who chose Malik for her, and he turned out to be everything I thought I wanted for her tonight.
Yet, I’d have preferred he be a complete and utter jackass.
Then, Aubrey would have gone home with me, and I wouldn’t have spent the last two hours working myself into a stupor in my gym, trying to burn away the thought of what they might have been doing.
I wouldn’t have been so flooded with hormones and adrenaline when I opened the door and saw her.
We wouldn’t be here at all right now.
Aubrey’s voice is breathy when she says, “Earlier, when I asked Malik for a ride here. Going home would have been . . .” Smarter.
“Right.”
“I’ll wait on the driveway until they get here.”
“Don’t use an Uber, Aubrey. I can drive,” I argue, pushing harder.
She opens the door, shaking her head, short strands of loose black hair swinging. “Please, don’t. I really need to just be alone right now.”
“This doesn’t have to change anything.”
It’s a terrible, pathetic lie.
“Good night, Finn.”
“I’m serious. We can pretend it didn’t happen,” I rush out, desperate.
Spinning on her heels, her face crumples as she croaks, “That’s what I’m doing.”
“Alright.” I nod, stumbling forward a half step. Her eyes track the movement, the panic lingering in her blue eyes intensifying again. It cuts deep. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. None of it should have happened. Not the water thing, or our fight in the washroom—”
“Please stop. It’s my fault. All of this. I need to go.”
This time, she scurries through the doorway and rushes down the porch steps.
I follow, trying to give her space but finding it impossible.
Watching her leave has always felt wrong in one way or another.
We’ve been best friends for so long that she’s become the one constant in my life.
She’s the reassuring voice in my head and familiar touch in any intimidating environment.
I miss her even when we’re in the same city, and instead of her sitting on the couch beside me, eating ginger beef and drinking wine, she’s up in that fancy condo of hers only a few minutes away.
There’s a piece of me that aches every time we have to say goodbye and makes me wish that she could just stay attached to my side every day, all day. It’s been that way since we were just kids.
But this gnawing in my chest right now is different. It’s raw and angry and frantic. I don’t know how to soothe it. And the further she gets from me, the worse it becomes.
The broken porch light allows her to slip into the shadows, her figure rushing down the long driveway.
I reach out and grab the railing, squeezing until my knuckles burn.
The strain in my shoulder pulses before I force myself to relax and watch as she slows near the curb, her phone screen lighting up the night around her.
I hate that I can’t see her face. The reminder intensifies the pain in my chest. Yet I sink into it, watching in silence.
Minutes pass, but I don’t so much as twitch.
By the time headlights are flooding down the street, she’s glanced back at the house four times, like she’s checking to see if I’m still here.
I haven’t been able to see her expression, to learn whether she’s as torn up as I am or if I’m well and truly as fucked as I fear I could be.
I’m left with nothing but pain and regret as she opens the back seat of the black car and slips inside.
It pulls away slowly, creeping down the empty street.
I linger on the porch, knowing that she won’t come back tonight.
Still, I wait. Maybe I’m truly as helpless as I feel, because by the time I finally turn around and head inside, one glance at the clock tells me I stood out there for an hour.
Sixty minutes of heavy silence and a thousand new unanswered questions.
I don’t go up to bed like I should. It’s the gym I step into instead. My weights are still on the bar above the bench I’d been lying on when she showed up, so that’s where I start.
Over and over, I lift the weights, and I don’t stop until I’m too exhausted to think about what happened here tonight.