I sit back and fold my arms, a physical barricade between my heart and the man eating popcorn beside me. Yes, I’ve had my reservations about the relationship with Zo, but I’m still with him. I can’t allow this thing seething between Jared and me, this thing that took up where it left off one cold December night a decade ago, to compromise my future.
My body has been reacting to Jared all day, like once I knew that night was as real to him as it was to me, all my defenses fell and I’m left with this dangerous vulnerability that could wreck my relationship, destroy my friendship. Hell, set back my career. If Zo, one of our biggest clients, walked away from Bagley because I cheated on him, Cal would have legitimate grounds to dismiss me, or at the very least hand the LA office over to someone else.
This calls for popcorn. I have a history of dealing with my emotions through food, but I can control it. I’m measuring it out and then stopping. I’ll eat a handful of this piping hot, buttery goodness. Just one taste.
Speaking of hands, mine brushes up against Jared’s in the tub of popcorn and a shiver skitters over my spine. I pull back, but he captures my fingers, not releasing me. I tug uselessly. He’s not simply holding my fingers hostage. He’s holding my whole life in his hands, and he doesn’t even know it. Or maybe he does but doesn’t care.
“Jared . . .” I’m breathless, helpless.
“Watch the movie, Banner,” he says, eyes fixed on Cary and Deborah. His right hand occupied with my left, he reaches into the tub with his left and keeps eating. I stare at the screen, eyes unseeing, ears unhearing. My full attention centers on the searing point of contact between our fingertips. Foolishly, I will myself to relax. I actually follow the storyline for the next few minutes, and I’m getting invested, wanting Cary and Deborah to figure it out, when Jared’s thumb ghosts over the thin skin of my wrist. It feels like he’s caressed the nerves beneath. It feels like he’s stroked my pulse because now my heart bangs like a mallet. My breath catches, hitches, stalls as he traces my palm. My mouth waters. Why is that even happening? Like my taste buds have been warned that soon I’ll taste him again. I give another halfhearted tug, but he doesn’t release my hand.
I don’t want him to.
“Fuck this,” he mutters, turning away from the movie. He cups my cheek and presses his forehead to mine, the smell of fresh popcorn wafting up between us. “I’m going to kiss you.”
“No,” I protest but don’t pull away. I’m paralyzed. I could physically move, but I’m held by the scent of him and the warmth of him and the promise of him. The taste of him so close.
“Yes, I am, Banner, because we both want it,” he says flatly. “And there’s no reason for us not to have it.”
“There is a reason. I have . . .” I pause and try to gather my scattered wits. “Jared, you know I have a boyfriend.”
“And if you haven’t figured it out by now, I don’t give a fuck.” He pushes his fingers into my hair, angles his mouth over mine, and licks my bottom lip once, sending a current of electricity over my skin. I squeeze my eyes shut, like that will somehow block the sensations quaking through every cell of my body.
His tongue laps at the corners of my mouth. He groans and captures my bottom lip between his, sucking at me, alternating force and gentleness, leaving me unsure which I want more. I clench my right fist on my thigh, the only sign of resistance I can muster, but it’s not enough. Not when he pushes the popcorn away and grips my waist and brings me incrementally closer until we’re pressed together and our hearts bang on each other’s chests, one demanding entrance from the other.
“Your heart’s racing,” he says, an echo from years ago. He drags our linked hands to his chest. “So is mine.”
“Jared, we can’t.”
“I am.”
He tilts my chin just so, tugs my mouth open, and kisses me. With his dominant nature, I expect an invasion. Maybe I could have resisted that, could have prepared for that, but his mouth tenderly begs, and our tongues desperately tangle. This propulsive force has me leaning into him, has my hand clawed in his hair. Has me fucking his mouth. And I can’t stop. I’d forgotten how he tastes, but this moment under a star-spangled sky, this moon hurls me into retrograde. Backward so many years to our first kiss when he exploded across my senses and detonated any coherent thought with one stroke of his tongue.
Air cools my leg when he lifts my skirt, his hand lighting up the sensitive skin of my inner thigh on the inevitable journey to my pussy. He barely brushes me through my panties, and my muscles clench, anticipating his touch. I can’t even manage to feel embarrassed that my panties are already soaked.
“I want to finger you,” he rasps over my lips. “Can I, Ban?”
Dios mío, ayúdame.
God, help me.
But there’s no help. No salvation. Only the sin of this moment, of my dreams. I want to wake up. When this happened in my dreams, I woke up and I was beside Zo. He was sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware that I was wet-dreaming about a man from my past. A man from my present. But Zo’s not here, and I can’t remember why I should deny myself what I know Jared will give me. What I’ve been aching for ever since he re-entered my life. I nod my permission quickly before I change my mind, widening my thighs to make it easy for him. He slips his thumb beneath the wet silk and runs it over my clit.
“Jesus.” I jerk, and his mouth is at my shoulder, his tongue soothing the burning, naked skin. With his free hand, he tugs one string of my halter until they both flop down over my breasts. His eyes never leaving mine, he strokes my clit again and slowly slides his middle finger inside. The erotic contact between our eyes is as potent as that one finger finding passage inside of me, over and over. With every unblinking stroke, I’m closer to giving Jared the surrender I promised Zo only he would have.
“Jared, we have to . . .”