Chapter 9 #2
Maybe even see me the way I’ve seen him for months now. Hell, longer than that.
It causes my chest to tighten, and I don’t know how to feel about that.
“Kee,” he whispers, still searching my face.
I lick my lips, not missing the way he instantly tracks the movement.
My blood heats, and I swear, I better not be seeing things. So I do it again to be sure, and yep, his eyes follow again.
Shit.
Is it because he’s drunk? Is that the only reason he’s looking at me like he wants to shove his tongue down my throat? Or is it possible he’s been feeling this tension between us too?
Goddamnit. I hate this. Not knowing. The questions that always ran through my mind whenever our eyes would meet this past week. Looks I swear were a little more than platonic.
But fuck it. He’s shit-faced, and I’ve had a few beers myself. If anything, I can blame this on the alcohol tomorrow.
Decision made and before I can think twice—or more importantly, bitch out—I shift and allow my body to crowd his.
I lean over him, one hand planted firmly on the arm of the couch, the other resting beside his waist. The movement has my knee sliding between his legs and as I lower my body closer to his, my pulse races.
“What’re you doing?” he breathes out the question, barely loud enough for me to hear.
If I wasn’t hovering inches away from him, my chest brushing his, I probably would have missed it entirely.
I’m not too focused on his words right now though.
Not when I can practically taste the liquor lingering on his lips from here.
“I don’t really know.”
Truthfully, I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know why I’m even bothering to take the chance, only that everything inside me is telling me I need to. If only to know for sure.
As much as I hate to admit it, the way it felt to kiss him back at the end of high school has been permanently ingrained in my brain.
I haven’t been consumed by it or anything like that.
Intentionally, at least. But ever since DYD came up at that party and then the video…
it’s there again, fluttering in the background like white noise I can’t seem to get rid of.
I just wanna figure out why this is happening. Because while I’m definitely attracted to the guy I’ve been chatting with on Toppr, I sure as fuck don’t get this feeling when we talk.
So, is it only Pen?
The words that slip out of my mouth next, without my permission, make me think it might be.
“You’re the only guy I’ve ever kissed,” I tell him, fingers of my free hand dancing over his jaw.
They coast along the sharp angles, tracking to the spot below the left side of his mouth where the dimple I’m obsessed with pops when he smiles.
Currently, it’s nowhere to be seen. If it was, I don’t think I could stop myself from licking or biting at it, consequences be damned.
I work to swallow, ignoring the way my stomach ignites as his stubble scrapes against the pads of my fingers, or how the thought of my lips on any part of his body has my blood heating beneath my skin.
Touching him like this, even though it’s nothing overly sexual, has every inch of me on fire. Or maybe it’s the way it feels to have his hard, lithe body pressed against mine that has me all worked up.
But this is Pen. My best friend. And while I’m confused as hell, I don’t want to scare him off. So I do my best to keep my thoughts tame and away from how good he feels.
That’s before I catch that same look in his eyes. A hint of lust and interest mixing with the fear, sending any thought of keeping things tame right out the goddamn window.
I hear the slight intake of breath as I move my fingers over, tracing his lips.
They part slightly and I feel his hot breath coasting over my skin.
Every sensible part of myself, every ounce of my self-preservation, is screaming at me to stop this.
Stop what I’m doing. Get up and go to my room and forget this night ever happened.
But I can’t.
I have to do this. I have to prove it was just a fluke. It was the connection we share from years of friendship, nothing more.
I have to know if he’s the exception to the rule.
“Fuck, Pen. All of me wants to kiss you again.” His eyes widen slightly as I say it, but again, I just see lust and confusion in them.
He swallows, and it takes all my willpower to not lean in and lick his Adam’s apple. But my self-control isn’t strong enough from keeping my stupid lips from spilling more thoughts that’d be better kept to myself.
“I’m done holding back. Not when refusing to give in only makes it worse.”
“Give in,” he repeats in a whisper, almost in reverence. Or maybe anticipation. As if he likes the idea as much as I do.
I nod. Swallow. Tamp down the nerves.
And lean in.
“Please, don’t deck me for this later.”
Before he has the chance to protest, my mouth descends on his until they mold together.
Tentative at first, but quickly growing more confident in what’s happening.
His lips are soft against mine, softer than I remember them as I tilt his chin up toward me.
A soft groan manages to slip past our fused mouths, but I’m not sure who it came from.
I think it was him, but honestly, I don’t even care.
One of Aspen’s hands grabs at the front of my shirt, the other coming up to the back of my neck. The blunt tips of his fingers scrape against my skull as he kisses me back, slowly and seductively.
It feels so damn good.
My heart hammers in my chest, pounding a mile a minute, as my brain attempts to play catch up with what’s happening. Namely, that I’m kissing Aspen again for the first time in what feels like a lifetime. Only this time, it’s a real kiss. And he’s letting me.
Not because of a dare, but because…fuck. Because he wants to?
Goddamnit.
Whatever it is—whatever has taken over all rational thought from either of us—it’s emboldened me enough to keep going. Asking for more. See how far he’s willing to let me take this.
My tongue slides against the seam of his lips, seeking permission as much as it’s coaxing. He surprises me yet again when his lips part barely a second later, granting me the access I’m craving.
The taste of whiskey on his tongue is instant as it brushes along mine, and this time, it’s definitely him who lets out a low rumble from deep within his chest. A sound I wanna hear again and again.
I’d give my last breath to never forget the feel of it against my mouth.
It sends a bolt of lust straight to my balls, and when his tongue starts tangling with mine inside his mouth, the need within me builds astronomically.
And that’s what it is. Need.
It’s a yearning I’ve never felt before. One that consumes me to my core and only builds the longer we’re like this.
My hips move of their own accord, sinking down against his as I fuck his mouth with my tongue. The fingers that were gripping my shirt have now slid beneath it, and holy—
He thrusts up into me, and I’m floored to feel that he’s just as hard as I am. Long and rock solid, and when our dicks brush against each other beneath the confines of our clothes, I moan into his mouth.
“Fuck,” he mutters against my lips, his breaths coming out in ragged pants.
Part of me worries he’s about to break this off and push me away. Honestly, I wouldn’t blame him if he did, especially with how things just went from zero to sixty in no time at all.
But then he keeps kissing me. Like a man starved. Greedy for more.
I must be too, and soon enough we’re clawing at each other, nothing more than desperation and unbridled lust driving us.
A tiny part of me wonders if he even knows it’s me. Or if he thinks I’m Bristol. Maybe some other girl he picked up at Stagger.
Those thoughts are quickly put to rest when his hand cups my jaw and he breaks away to nip at the skin there. “Goddamnit, Kee. What’re we doing?” he mutters against my jaw before taking my mouth with his again. This time, it’s him who thrusts his tongue in my mouth, making it impossible to think.
“I don’t know,” I breathe into his lips, shaking my head as I grind down against him. The groan it elicits from both of us is intoxicating. “Just don’t stop.”
Truthfully, stopping isn’t an option at this point. Every single thought is now circulating around Pen and his lips and the blissful torture that is his body against mine.
Both his hands fly to my hips, digging in at my waist as he pulls me down against him. Each and every bump and grind of his cock is enough to send me over the edge, but I can already feel this is going too far, too fast.
But even though I know I need to break this off soon—mostly because I have no clue how drunk he is still—at least something came out of this moment. Well, besides the single greatest kiss of my life.
That fact in itself confirms what I’ve been wondering these passing months.
I’m not as straight as I thought I was. Especially when it comes to Aspen Kohl.
He might be like a brother to me, but this goes way beyond that. Past friendship, and right into desire.
Because I want this. I want him.
I’ve never been more sure of anything.
I just have no idea what it means for our friendship.