Ah, there was the rub. She hadn’t expected anything at all from him except to hear her. She certainly hadn’t expected to lose her best friend. “I see your side of things, Charlie. I honestly do. But try to see mine. I opened up my heart to you. I put everything on the line, and you never said a solitary word. You just turned your back and walked away without any explanation. You should have told me about Megan. I had to find out from the papers, and by then you were gone.”
“I didn’t want to hurt anyone else. I didn’t want to hurt you, Anna.”
“Mission so not accomplished. Tragedy strikes, and you don’t talk to me about it.” Twelve years of radio silence. “Tragedy strikes, and your response is to never speak to your best friend again.”
“I’m speaking to her now.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. We’re not best friends anymore. Maybe we never were.”
Placing his palms on her shoulders, he turned her body until she faced him. “If we’re not best friends, why are you the only person who knows that it was my dad who broke my nose—twice? Even Nate thinks it was a football injury.”
Twelve years of radio silence.
Lifting one hand from her shoulder, he traced her lips with his finger, softening her heart but not the pain. The blue blaze in his eyes smoldered into a deep pewter. The liquor, no doubt.
She, on the other hand, hadn’t had a drop to drink, and yet her temperature had been set to slow smolder ever since they’d walked through the front door of Charlie’s apartment.
“Please, Peaches…” As his finger continued to scald a path across her lips, he opened his knees until his thigh touched hers. Palpable heat radiated between their bodies, incinerating her fear into the white-hot ashes of unfulfilled longing.
She’d wanted this man since the day she’d been old enough to recognize physical desire, and now, at least in this particular moment, he wanted her too. Like that faraway night when she’d told him she loved him, a blast of courage overtook reason. But whatever happened between them tonight was going to be on her terms.
“Shut up, Charlie.” She slipped her hand under his T-shirt, and the muscles in his abdomen tightened reflexively. His skin was hot and slick, and she curled her fingers into the abundance of springy hairs beneath her palms, testing herself, unsure how far she wanted to take this.
He groaned and then lifted his arms for her, clearly wanting more. She wanted more, too. Grasping the hem of his shirt, she yanked it over his head, tossed it aside, and let her eyes linger on the cut muscles of his chest, then drift to his jeans where his burgeoning arousal was evident.
“I want you, Anna.”
As her eyes lifted to meet his, her heart rose in her throat, and her pulse began to pound in her ears. Watching his face darken with need, she raised her hands from where they’d fallen on her lap and reached out to touch him, sketch the outline of his erection with her fingertips. His sharp intake of air, the long hard shape of him made her even more reckless, and she squeezed her hand around him, crossing her legs to ease the pressure building between her thighs.
“That’s so nice.” He half spoke, half groaned. “When you first raised your hand, I thought you might slap me. But this, this is such a nice surprise.”
Covering her hand with his, he pressed it harder over him, and then he whipped his other arm behind her back. She caught the lingering scent of whiskey on his breath as he drew her close. When he bent his head and brushed rough, wet lips over the nape of her neck, thick pleasure poured through her like honey through a comb, filling her hollow places, replacing what was empty with what was sweet.
Instinctively, her eyes closed, and her body arched up to meet him, her control dissolving, their desire infusing the air with an unmistakable musk. Massaging his fingers into her hair, he tugged until her neck tilted back, giving him more access to her body, which was already straining to meet him. He flicked his tongue in and out of the tight space between her breasts. “I’ve missed you, Anna,” he whispered, warming her skin with his moist breath.
A tightness in her chest warned her it was time to call a halt to this hedonistic game they were playing, lest she be drawn in to those old, powerful feelings again—but there was something she still wanted from him. Something she still needed from him.
As he nipped his way back up her neck, her skin buzzed with delight. Speaking soft and low in her ear, he repeated those wonderful words, “I want you,” and then pressed his cheek against hers. Their noses bumped, but neither one laughed. And that’s when it happened.
At last.
Tenderly brushing her lips with his, he licked her mouth. Ravenous for his kiss, she opened for him, and he drove his tongue inside her mouth, stroking over hers rhythmically, with mounting urgency—showing her exactly what he wanted to do to her. His breath became her breath. His need became her need. His heartbeat became her heartbeat—as if their bodies had already joined, and yet, they were only kissing.
Only kissing.
She'd waited for this kiss for twelve long years.