Page 3 of While You Sleep

“You think so?”

He nodded, his gaze dipping to my lips.

I called on all my courage. “Then why haven’t you kissed me?”

His gaze sliced back up to mine. “I wasn’t sure you’d want—”

“Kiss me,” I said.

His lips curled in a cocky grin, then he cupped the side of my face and pressed his lips to mine. I’d been kissed twice before. Both times had been at parties my father had thrown. My first kiss was with Ethan McGory, the son of one of Dad’s friends. The other had been with a guy he’d hired to work the bar a couple years later, his name was Luke. Those kisses had been okay, nothing exceptional. I’d had high hopes for Brian, but as his lips moved over mine, there were no tingles or sparks—then I felt guilty for thinking it.

I tightened my arms around his neck and slid my tongue over the seam of his lips. He groaned, his tongue thrusting into my mouth like a dart aiming for my tonsils, then it was tangling with mine, but it was too wet and way too sloppy.

I pulled back, and he stared down at me hotly before pressing another soft kiss to my lips.

It took everything I had not to drag the back of my hand over my mouth right in front of him. “I’ll be right back,” I called over the music. “Ladies’ room.”

I turned to grab Fi, but she and Steve were sucking face, and the way my friend was basically climbing him, the building could come down around us and neither of them would notice.

I strode across the room, and as soon as I was sure I was out of Brian’s view, I wiped my mouth with my sleeve and rushed into the bathroom.

Disappointment filled me. Don’t panic. Maybe he was drunker than I thought? We’re a good fit. We had all this stuff in common: movies, books, and we both loved to cook. I just had to give him a chance. We were going out on Thursday. I’d let him kiss me again then, and I was sure it’d be better. I’d finally found my courage; this couldn’t all be for nothing. It couldn’t. What if I never found the courage again? What if I never met anyone else who could take me away, take me from my life.

What if…

I slammed the door on those thoughts. I was spiraling, going places I didn’t need or want to go.

Quickly using the bathroom, I washed my hands and was fixing my hair when Fiona’s text dinged on my phone, telling me to hurry up, that a good song was playing. I grinned. I needed to be more like my best friend. Fun and free. But you’re not free, you’ll never be free. Shaking my head and those thoughts out of my mind, I shoved the door open and rushed back out—and slammed right into a wall.

No, not a wall—a man. And I didn’t just bump into him, my front literally smashed against his. I tried to scramble back and, oh my god, my hand brushed his junk. I tilted my head back, my face aflame. Shit. Not just any man, it was the guy with the tattoos and the pretty green eyes.

“Um, I…sorry.”

He flashed a grin that made my insides melt. “No worries.”

His voice was deep and had a raspy quality that lifted tingles across my head and down my arms.

“I ah…saw you…before.”

He studied me for several long seconds. “Yeah.”

He was still close, really close. Nerves exploded in my belly, and when I got nervous, that’s when the verbal diarrhea happened. I knew it, I hated it, but there was no stopping it, and the alcohol wasn’t helping. “I’m just here with friends. I needed to dance, have a drink. I spent the weekend with my family, and well, you know what family can be like?” My face was so hot now, I had to stop myself from fanning my cheeks. “I mean, if you have a family, I shouldn’t have just assumed. Sorry, that was…god, sorry…” I cringed and slammed my mouth shut.

“Family can be tough,” he said, those green eyes studying me in a way that set off little sparks all over my skin.

I nodded. I’d been right, his lips were sculpted perfection. “Sorry, I have a habit of babbling when I’m nervous.”

“And apologizing.”

“What? Oh, yeah. I do that too.”

“Why are you nervous?” he asked.

“Um…” Because you’re so incredibly hot I’m having trouble standing upright.

His gaze kind of darkened. “That guy you’re with, you know him well?”

I blinked up at him. “Yes,” I whispered. Why did he ask me that? And why was I whispering? Probably because this suddenly felt weirdly intimate.

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