“I love it…” I pause for a long moment. “Ez, you could’ve told me you mixed up the date on the invitation. I would’ve forgiven you.”
“I wish I had. I was just too embarrassed. And ashamed. I had been planning to ask you out the night of your birthday.”
“I would’ve said yes.”
An angry tone fills his voice. “If you had said yes, maybe you wouldn’t have dated Ben.”
I loved Ben while we were dating, but I’d be a lot better off if we had never gone out. I wouldn’t be living with a terrible secret that’s my shadow.
Ezra just told me his big secret. I should tell him mine. But what if I tell him I covered for Ben and then he spills the news to Oliver? Oliver might tell Dad. I can’t even imagine how upset my family and friends will be that I lied. Especially given how it’s affected Dad’s campaign. Unraveling this mistake might cause more trouble than just staying silent.
Bad news is only interesting for so long. The press will get over it soon.
I shake my head to clear my thoughts—I came to Ezra’s place to get my mind off the media, not to rehash what happened. I look down into my box of birthday gifts. “I can’t wait to use my soccer ball pens.” When I gaze up at him to say thank you again, his eyes are low-lidded and filled with longing.
Without a word, I set the birthday box down on his coffee table and gently press my lips to his.
When I was younger, I imagined that kissing him would be like an electric shock. But the spark I once dreamed of turns out to be lightning.
I pull away, and we stare at each other for several heartbeats. Then he crushes his mouth to mine.
Our lips are warm, full, and hungry. His hands trail up and down my arms, caressing my skin. My hands are everywhere. I pull him hard against me, leading him to the couch. We land in a tangle of arms and legs. I kick off my boots, and he lifts me onto his lap so that I’m straddling him. He continues to kiss me as he wraps his arms around my waist.
“Tee,” he says breathily. “We need to talk.”
“So talk.”
But he doesn’t. He’s too busy using his mouth for other, more important things. I sweep my tongue between his lips, loving this. Kissing Ben was always good, but kissing Ezra feels vital.
The first time I set foot in the Louvre in Paris, saw its grand passageways filled with art and history, I thought, This is it. Now I’m alive. But that was just a precursor for this moment, because it feels as if my heart is beating for the first time.
We kiss, each of us unleashing years of pent-up attraction, until he suddenly pulls back. His gaze grows heated as his fingers gently caress my breast through my shirt. Having a guy’s hand there has never done much for me, but with him, it’s different. I unbutton my shirt so he can have full access. His lips part in breathless excitement when I reveal my bra, baring myself to him. His warm hands send sparks scattering through me. I push my hips into his. Pull his T-shirt off over his head. Cup his cheeks. I can’t get close enough. I need him to touch me everywhere.
He slowly unzips my jeans. If I’d known this would be happening, I would’ve worn something sexier than my white underwear with the little blue dogs on them.
He laughs, gently tracing the waistband, making me shiver. “I love these.” He leans his head back and stares up at me. “Have you considered becoming a vet?”
“I’ve never thought about that.”
“Maybe you should. I bet you’d enjoy it.”
“Like how you enjoy working with your hands?”
“Yes.”
“Well, what are you waiting for? Use those hands on me.”
With a relaxed smile, he kisses me again and flips me onto my back, then edges my jeans down and onto the floor. He discovers the bluebird tattoo on my ankle, kissing it once before his lips begin working their way back up my legs and between them.
His hand joins his mouth, and together, they fly me out of this world.
? ? ?
In bed with Ben, I spent a lot of time worrying about whether my stomach was flat, if my boobs looked awesome, if I was making him feel good and doing the right things with my hands.
It is not like that with Ezra. There’s no time for thinking. I’m too busy kissing his neck. Too busy exploring his chest and abs. I make noises that should be embarrassing, but they’re not, because I’m not self-conscious like with Ben. All I care about is giving him the same pleasure he gave me. He threads a hand through my hair, and his eyes flare as they meet mine.
When we’re finished, we lie crushed together on his couch, staring at the ceiling, silent except for our heavy breathing. I’m in my bra and panties, and he’s in his boxer briefs. I’ve never gone from zero to sixty with a guy in one day. I figured I might feel guilty or maybe a little naughty, but I just feel good. Happy.
Grinning, I reach out to pull him in for another kiss and maybe round two, but he suddenly sits up and leans over, putting his elbows on his knees.
“You okay?” I ask.
Ezra drags a hand through his dark hair. “Oll is going to kill me. He told me that if I ever fuck with you, he’d fuck me up.”
I smile at my brother’s protective nature. “It’s none of his business what we do. That was great, by the way.” Ezra’s still looking away from me, so I get up onto my knees, press my chest against his back, and wrap my arms around him. I kiss his ear and neck. “Want to go to your bed?”
“This was a mistake.”
I stop breathing. “What?”
“Look, I was just trying to be there for you as a friend. I thought I could keep my feelings under control.”
I give him a little smile. “I’m glad you didn’t.”
“I don’t want to lead you on. I’m not right for you.”
We can’t end now. We can’t. “Why don’t you let me decide who’s right for me?”
He twines and untwines his fingers nervously. “Your life isn’t right for me.”
The air conditioner rattles on, blasting cold air over my body. I shiver. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m not going back to college. I won’t ever take over my father’s company. I’m never going to fit in at our families’ parties again. People will talk about you like they do Jack Goodwin, wondering why you’re slumming it with me.”
“Slumming it?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s ridiculous. And rude toward Savannah. Screw them. Who cares?”
“I care. You’re gonna go to college and do whatever you want with your life, and all I’m ever gonna be is a construction rat.” He finds his jeans on the floor, steps into the legs, and zips them up.
I start rasping for breath. I just went down on him—I would’ve slept with him if he’d asked. And now he says this?
I grab my jeans and yank them on. My foot gets caught in the fabric, and I have to sit down to jerk it free. “This sucks. You care more about what other people think than about giving us a chance.”
“I’m sorry,” he replies quietly. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I just want something different for both of us.”