My Best Friend's Ex

His hand tightens on my jaw, the other one curling around my neck. His mouth opens as his nose grazes my face. Fuck me. Fuck me. Just do it. Just kiss me. I can’t take it any longer.

Our breathing quickens, our breath caressing one another as the air around us ceases to exist. With one more pause, Tucker presses his thumb into the back of my neck and then his lips graze mine, teasing me, tantalizing me with what’s to come. It’s a whisper of a kiss, a brief glimpse of our connection, and when I think he’s going to end everything with just that light touch, he presses further but never too hard. He keeps his lips soft, his need in control. It’s sexy as hell, to the point that I’m forced to wrap my legs around his waist and clench hard.

Lightly he nips my lips, runs his tongue along them and tastes each corner, as if he’s trying to memorize this moment. There is no memorizing for me. It’s impossible when I know this moment will be forever engrained in my brain.

Wanting more, I glide my hands tentatively up his chest. He groans from my touch and starts to work my mouth a little faster. When I press my hands over his pecs, he groans louder, and his mouth picks up pace. I match each kiss with his, our mouths sliding against each other until his tongue parts me, begging for entry. There is no denying his demand. I open my mouth and collide my tongue with his, the force of his kiss taking control. I try to keep up now, matching each thrust, each groan, every lick of his tongue.

This kiss is everything.

From the pit of my stomach I know this moment will top every first kiss I’ll ever experience. From the way he presses his body into mine, to the hold he has on my neck and face, to the way he equally matches my kisses with his, it’s undeniably the most sensual moment of my life, as well as the most misguided judgment of my life.

And just as I settle in for a long night of kitchen make-out time, Tucker removes his mouth from mine, but not before placing a final kiss on my lips. Hazily, I open my eyes to meet his. When I expect to see that charming grin of his, instead, I see a look of uncertainty.

Uncertainty?

Uh, not the kind of thing a girl wants to see after experiencing by far the best kiss of her life.

Uneasy, I ask, “What’s wrong?”

He steps away from me and grabs the back of his neck while his other hand rests on his hip. God, even standing there, looking unsure, he is the sexiest man I’ve ever seen.

“Tucker?”

With his head still turned down, he looks up at me. “Shit, Emma.” Oh no. “I lost control . . .”

And there it is, regret. Wow, that was a lot quicker than I imagined it would be. I would have at least given him the night.

I hop off the counter and put on a big smile. “No problem. I get it.” I pretend yawn and stretch my arms over my head. “You know, it’s getting late and I’m not really that hungry. I think I’m going to call it an early night.” I start to walk away and then turn to him. His eyes? They still look uncertain.

He wishes he didn’t kiss me. Does he want me to leave? Do I just go?

“Let’s just say this never happened, okay? A lapse in judgment. I’ll see you in the morning. Night, Tucker.”

I make my way to my bedroom, listening intently for him to quickly follow behind me, to tell me he was just kidding, that he actually wants to continue kitchen make-out session, but he doesn’t follow me. Instead, the house fills with an uncomfortable silence, while inside my heart and head, I’m screaming. In frustration, in anger, in humiliation.

Disappointed and more than embarrassed, I shut my bedroom door and go straight to my bed where I bury my head in my pillow.

Do not cry, Emma. This is not something you cry over. This is merely an experience that ended sooner than you expected.

Despite my self-talk, my nose starts to sting, the moment in the kitchen playing over and over in my head. Why did he stop? Was I a bad kisser? Was I not what he expected? Did I disappoint the hype he might have had in his head? Was it because I’m not her and never will be?

I can’t stop the stinging feeling in my nose and before I know it, tears start to leak from the corners of my eyes. The tingling, burning sensation of having Tucker’s hands and mouth all over me is quickly washed away by a vat of utter mortification.

There had to be something—

My door opens and without turning around I can feel Tucker’s presence. I have my back turned away from him so he can’t see the devastation I’m feeling.

“Emma.”

I don’t think I have the strength for this . . .





Chapter Fourteen


TUCKER

Fuck.

The grip on the back of my neck is so tense that it almost feels like I’m about to move all of my vertebras out of place with one swift movement.

What the hell do I do?

I kissed her. I fucking kissed Emma Marks. The sweet, compassionate, slightly spicy Emma I grew up with, and I only have myself to blame.

It’s been a monumental buildup from the moment I saw her at the bar, to her impersonating Playboy models, to her blatant staring and thick-dick comments, to the way she practically hums with pleasure when I invade her space. Tension, sexual frustration, and yearning built and fucking built until I could no longer resist her.

I’ve wanted to fuck you since the moment I saw you at the bar.

What was I thinking? Hell, I wasn’t thinking, I was acting on pure instinct, on desire, on everything I’ve been holding back since the moment that incredible woman walked back into my life.

And I pushed her. Fuck, did I push her. I wanted to see how far I could go, how many innocent touches I could get in, how many times I could crowd her space just to catch a glimpse of her scent. She might think it wasn’t fair to her, but it wasn’t fair to me either.

But tonight, seeing her in those matching pajamas, bright-eyed, beautiful, and innocent, fuck, I couldn’t hold back. I had to know if she wanted to fuck me. From her body language, the way her eyes would peruse me every chance they got, or the hitch in her breath when I walked by her, I knew there had to be something there, but I had to hear it from her lips, those sweet, plump lips.

Christ.

I run both hands through my hair and glance toward her bedroom. That kiss, fuck, it’s still making my body hot. And then like an asshole, I pulled away, unsure of every little nip and press of my lips I gave her.

It’s not that I don’t want her, that couldn’t be further from the truth. But it’s hard, giving in to the desire coursing through me when thoughts of Sadie still lurk in the back of my mind, taunting me every goddamn day of my life with what could have been, the future we missed out on, the world we could have created just between the two of us. The world she didn’t want. Doesn’t want.

Get over it.

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