Letting out a long sigh, her lips press thin for a moment before her shoulders droop slightly. “Fine.”
She’s acting really odd, and I study her while she’s swiping the screen of her phone. I slide around to stand beside her, only to discover that my sister has sent her a buttload of photos she took of me and Noelle. There’re a handful of us on stage singing, which are actually pretty cool. But there’s one that catches my eye and it’s … unsettling as hell. It must have been taken at the end of the song she rescued me from because we’re holding our microphones at our sides and looking at each other with smiles. That in itself isn’t bothersome but … it’s the way she’s smiling at me—the look in her eyes that’s making it hard for me to breathe. What’s worse is that, I swear, there’s almost a similar look on my face as I’m looking back at her.
We both fall completely silent, staring at the photo on her phone until it times out and the screen goes dark.
“You know what? It’s really late and you probably have a lot of stuff to do tomorrow, including running your bazillion miles in the morning and I—”
My mouth crashes down on hers, partially to stop her from rambling on with shitty excuses and partly because it’s been too damn long since I’ve tasted her. As soon as our lips meet and I slide my tongue inside to tangle with hers, angling to deepen the kiss, a sense of calmness comes over me.
Breaking the kiss, I’m stunned to realize the harsh breathing I hear isn’t just hers but mine as well. “Come home with me, please?”
My breath holds in my chest as her eyes search my face before answering softly. “Yes.” And that’s all it takes to make my night complete. For this woman to agree to be with me.
For her to choose me … at least for tonight.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Noelle
“What am I doing?” I ask myself in the silence of my car as I drive down Atlantic Avenue, following Foster’s truck. “What. Am. I. Doing?” I repeat myself.
I know what I’m doing. I’m following my vajayjay’s lead. Okay, no, that’s not entirely true. I’m following my heart’s lead, too. Which is even more frightening because, well, it’s Foster Kavanaugh, for God’s sake. He’s dangerously lethal to my heart, and I should just drive off in the opposite direction, lock myself inside my house and get my shit together.
Instead, I’m pulling into his driveway to park behind him, turning off the ignition. Because that’s the smart choice. Yeah. Totally. Leaning my forehead against the steering wheel, my eyes fall shut as I mentally slap myself. If I’m going to do this, then this is it. I’m going to need to lay it all out there.
It’s now or never—even if there is a teeny, tiny part of me that wants to vote never.
The sharp sound of knuckles knocking against the glass of my driver’s side window makes me sit up straight with a jolt. Foster’s waiting for me on the other side, likely wondering what the hell I’m doing and why I’m not getting out of my car. Blowing out a long breath, I grab my purse from the passenger seat and slowly open the door with my keys in hand.
Foster offers his hand to help me out and as soon as I place my hand in his, his fingers tighten around mine, making me feel it. The same feeling I always get when he touches me. It’s crazy, but it’s a sense of relief, of calmness when you’ve been away for a while and finally come home. A sense of security of being back in your own place, your own space where you feel safest.
Home. That’s what Foster feels like.
Just once more, I bargain with myself as I allow him to lead me to his house. Just once more and then I’ll lay it all on the line. Because I know not only is it unfair to myself, but it’s also unfair to let him go on thinking what I feel hasn’t changed from when we first began. Because it isn’t. Not any longer. Not since my heart decided to become a key player in the deal.
Because I’m a coward, I decide to test the waters and show him—with my body, with my actions—what I feel for him. When we get to his bedroom, I reach up to bring his lips to mine, kissing him tenderly before my tongue slides inside to taste him. He tastes like the breath mint he’s likely popped into his mouth earlier along with a unique flavor I know to be his. The kiss turns feverish and I let my fingers slide over his head, over his short, close-cropped hair, reveling in the soft feel of it.
His hands hold my ass, pulling me closer, fingers sliding beneath my dress to caress where the back of my thigh meets my ass.
Foster draws away slightly, yet still close enough that his lips brush against mine when he speaks. “It drove me nuts to know you were bare beneath this dress. All night.” He takes my bottom lip between his, giving it a gentle tug. “All night, I wanted to put my hands on you, again. To see if you were still wet for me.”