Chapter 21 #2
“Okay, fine, you’re not drunk,” I lament with a smile that I can feel all the way down to my toes.
“So . . .” she starts, her eyes glittering with teasing mirth as she bites her lip and looks up at me. “Show me what a real
kiss from Luke Fletcher feels like, then. Better I find out now than on our wedding day in front of all our friends and family.”
I hum a noise of discontent because that’s exactly what I am. I am discontented at the idea of kissing her, because if I kiss
her the way I want to kiss her, I won’t want to stop.
But if I act like a good boy, like her friend, like the respectable man my mother raised me to be and walk into my room without
tasting her lips when I had the chance . . .
I will regret it for the rest of my life.
“You want me to kiss you, Addison?” My voice is strained and husky, revealing just how badly I want this.
She closes her eyes, letting my words wash over her. A shiver trembles through her body before she blinks up at me and answers,
“Yes.”
Exhaling sharply, I grab the bill of my hat, turning it around so the brim is no longer in my way when I do what I’ve been wanting to do for the better part of our friendship.
In one fluid motion, I close the distance between us, backing her up as I press my arm against the wall above her head, caging
her in.
All humor drains from her face as she looks at me like she’s never seen me before. Her minty breath is labored as her eyes
score my lips, anticipation heady as my other hand finds her waist, my fingers twitching along the inch of her hot skin exposed
between the bottom of her sweater and her jeans.
This is it. I’m finally going to kiss my best friend.
My jaw aches with restraint as I whisper against her lips, “This is how our first kiss should have gone.”
She inhales sharply as I crush my mouth to hers, her whole body tensing and then relaxing beneath me as I take in her essence
like a starved fucking animal.
Her fingers dig into my sides as I spread her lips apart with my tongue, sweeping in to claim the inside of her. I want to
taste her, consume her, savor her in every way possible. Leave no stone unturned in case this is the only time she’ll ever
let me do this. I’ve thought of this moment way too many times to hold back now.
She whimpers as her hands move to my back, pulling me in as her tongue plays with mine.
Fuck yes, she wants this just as much as I do.
She arches into me and I thrust my tongue deep in her mouth, my cock aching as it thickens inside my jeans. I marvel at the
sensation of her soft pillowy lips gliding against mine, catching on my mustache in a way that lights my fucking skin on fire.
My mind reels with the reality of what’s happening.
I’m kissing my best friend. I’ve finally crossed that forbidden bridge I wasn’t supposed to cross, and now that I’m here, my mind begs for more.
I imagine her naked in my bed just ten feet away, my scent all over her, but instead of my tongue in her mouth it’s my cock in her cunt and my name on her lips as she cries out her orgasm.
My kiss grows frenzied and erratic with my wandering thoughts, so I pull away to nip down her jaw, my tongue sliding against
her throat, tasting the scent of her and burning it into memory.
“Luke,” she cries out my name like she’s making my dirty thoughts come to life. The tone of her voice has me digging in harder
on her neck, sucking and biting her flesh, moving to the other side next, desperate to consume her whole fucking being.
I suddenly understand the psyche of vampires.
The urge to devour something so delectable, so tempting, so innocent and soft and hard in all the right places is a fucking
head trip. I want every single part of her to be mine.
She moves her hand to my chin, forcing my head back up to her face. Her hooded eyes stare desperately at my lips, so I take
my sexual deviance out on her mouth again, her tongue equally as feverish as mine.
We kiss like our lives depend on it. Like we both are aware of what we’ve been missing out on, day after day, night after
night in all the years we’ve been friends. To have had something that feels this good right at our fingertips all this time
and not have given in is an exercise in saintlike restraint.
When we finally come apart for air, I press my forehead to hers, refusing to let even an inch of space come between us, savoring
the aftershocks of this reality, inhaling in her scent, her breaths, her heart and her soul.
My cock thumps against her heat, letting her know exactly what this kiss did to me.
All of me.
She’s fucking perfect.
She’s my wife.
And I want nothing more than to fuck her up against this wall right here and right now.
But irritating reality pinpricks my mind, and I realize that if I want this to be more . . . I need to take this slow. She’s
not here with me yet, but I can see glimmers of her getting there. And I know that if I push her too hard and too fast, she’s
going to run.
This is a marathon, not a sprint. My feelings have been alive and well for a while now, but this is all new to Roe. She isn’t
there yet and I need to give her time because fuck do I want her to be here with me.
I pull back, my cock weeping against my zipper as I stare at her slackened body shoved up against the wall like my own personal
plaything.
“What are you doing?” she asks, out of breath.
I swallow the knot in my throat. “I gave you my first kiss . . . and now I’m going to bed.”
“You’re what?” she gasps, her lips and neck raw from my whiskers. God I love that look on her.
I lick my lips and point to her door. “You should be a good girl and go to bed too.”
She huffs out a weak laugh, her brows pinched in confusion. “What if I don’t want to be a good girl?”
I close my eyes and shake my head. “Go to bed, Addison.”
She stares at me for a long, heavy moment. I don’t often use her first name with her, so she knows I mean business and she
doesn’t seem to like it. Shoving a hand through her hair, she pries herself off the wall and turns unsteadily, gripping her
doorframe for a moment before peering back over her shoulder at me.
“Good night, husband.” She stares back at me, daring me to come after her. Daring me to change my mind and eliminate the space between us and take her in her fucking bed.
But I am the patron saint of idiots, so I stay exactly where I am. “Good night, wife.”
With a soft sigh, she closes the door and disappears from my sight, and I thump my head back against the wall behind me, hating
myself more than I ever have in my entire life.