“Yeah.”
“I do. It’s a great word, really. I love how it can be used in so many different ways. Like a noun for example. As in, he doesn’t give a fuck. Or an adverb, like, this book is really fucking interesting. Or even as an adjective, like….” Sweeping my fingers through her hair, I let them slide down the side of her face and cradle her jaw. “You are so fucking beautiful. The most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.” Her green eyes glitter with what appear to be equal parts surprise and happiness, and her cheeks stain pink. I glide my thumb over the edge of her lip, anxious to taste her again. “That last one is true—”
She cuts me off with her lips, advancing on mine, soft, seeking. She kisses me slowly. It’s the sweetest fucking kiss, sweeter than I’ve ever been kissed before. Filled with lips and tongue, meaning and desire—and something that makes my pulse rate spike. It makes me hard, too, but I think I could be happy just kissing her like this for a very long time.
She tastes like life.
Like truth.
Like tomorrows.
She makes me believe that maybe these things are possible for me.
A hunger shoots through me and I release her hand to snake my arms around her waist. My palm presses against the small of her back, urging her body closer as her warm tongue tangles with mine. Her peach scent is dizzying and it consumes me as I take control and deepen the kiss, plunging into her mouth. My hand travels up past her spine, her neck, slipping into her hair and tugging at the soft strands. She lets out a breathy moan as her fingers trail over my biceps and come up to frame my face. I shudder, startled by the effect her touch has on me. The way she holds me makes my heart beat way too fast and I don’t know if it’s fear or something else.
I ease out of her mouth, sucking on her lower lip before dropping my forehead against hers. Heavy breaths fall between us, and I don’t have to see her to know she’s smiling—I’m smiling too.
“Vance,” she breathes. “I should probably go in now, or else….”
I’d like the ‘or else’ option. But all that comes out is this one word. “Yeah.”
Reluctantly, I drop my arms and she backs away. “My friend Troy wants to hang out tomorrow night. Avery is going to be there, and I was thinking maybe….” She draws her lip between her teeth then lets it go. “Maybe you could come and bring Julian if he wants?”
“Absolutely.”
She blasts me with one last smile and I wait until she unlocks the door before heading to my car. I’m about to get in when her voice stops me. “Vance?”
I turn around. “Yeah?”
I hear her grin into the darkness. “That was the best fucking kiss I’ve ever had.”
STILL SMILING, I strut into the house. Julian is sitting on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table reading a sports magazine. Considering we haven’t seen each other all day, the scowl surrounding his mouth is unexpected. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Where have you been?” A bite threads his tone and I have no clue what I did to deserve it.
“I was with Ember.”
His gaze is still fixed on that damn magazine. “Hmph, hmph.”
I flip my keys around my finger and rack my brain for what could be eating him. “All right, Julian. What gives?”
He lowers the magazine, eyes boring into mine. “Why don’t you tell me?”
“Is that supposed to be fucking code for something? What did I miss?”
“I don’t know, Vance. What did you miss?” He drops his feet to the floor with a hard thud and when I don’t pick up on the hint, he elaborates. “Dr. Sherwood’s office called here.” He tosses the magazine onto the table. “Twice.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” He stands up, raking a hand through his unruly hair. “You missed your appointment. Why?”
I feel around for the phone in my back pocket then remember it’s gone. “It slipped my mind.”
“Bullshit,” he spits, and I haven’t seen him this angry since… Mom. “The thing that consumes your life slipped your mind. I’m not buying it.” He huffs out a breath and some of his irritation along with it. “Listen, just… get in there, okay? So you can know what you’re dealing with.”
I bite my tongue hard enough to taste blood, but give him the answer he needs to hear. “I will.”
“Promise?”
I groan. “Yes, Julian. I promise.”
He nods and his features relax. “Okay, good.” Then he starts for the kitchen. “I ordered a pizza earlier,” he calls back. “You want some?”
“Depends. Is it a real pizza?” I trail behind him as he reaches up to snatch two paper plates from the top of the fridge. He hands me one.
“It’s a salad pizza.”
My face contorts and I wince, tossing my plate onto the center island. “I’m good, thanks.” I open and close a few cabinets to check for SpaghettiOs. “If you want a salad, have a salad. Salad is not meant to be on top of pizza.” Finding one can hidden in the back, I slide it out and pop the top.