Page 50 of Sugar Coated Secrets

“But…we can’t. We’re…friends. It wouldn’t be good for either of us.”

“Oh, it’ll be good. I can guarantee that.”

“But we decided we’re not going there.”

“I changed my mind,” he says, as if it’s no big deal.

“You can’t just change your mind.”

“I can, and so can you.”

My heart drums in my ears and flutters erupt inside me. “It’s impossible. We’d have to be together for one thousand days.” I’m only here for two weeks, less than that now.

“Not if we kiss more than once a day, and I’ll give you bonus points for doing more.”

“More?” My cooch twitches like it’s excited at this idea. Traitor.

“Yes, more.” He tilts his head like he’s deciding which angle to come at to get his first kiss.

“I don’t know…” Am I considering this? I close my eyes.

He uses his finger to uncurl my hands, which are in tight fists. I hadn’t realized I balled them up. His strokes are soft and provocative against my palm. I feel the caress between my thighs.

“I’ve been thinking about your situation,” he whispers near my ear, while stroking my fingers. “Now that you’re trying new things, maybe you should try the single life on for size. Have you ever just dated without the need for more?”

I consider his questions, but it’s hard to think now that his finger is caressing my wrist, just under the hem of my sweater. “I’ve dated, but the expectation that it will lead to something more was always there.”

“This could be good for you.”

I grasp for any reason not to do this because it’s sounding like a really good idea. “At my condo, you said you wouldn’t touch me and that you wanted to respect our friendship.”

“I do. But I hadn’t kissed you back then, and honestly…” He moves close enough so that I can feel his breath on my ear. “I can’t get that kiss out of my mind.”

Him, too? My eyes spring open. I blink at the trees ahead while Easton brushes my hair behind my shoulder and runs his nose ever so gently along my neck.

Shivers break out over my skin. I need to process this new information and decide what to do before I give in to this without rational thought.

“How long do you want the kissing and messing around to go on for?”

“Do we have to put a time limit on it? Can’t we just have fun?”

A cool breeze blows dried leaves across the blanket and onto my lap, distracting me enough to gain clarity. I lean away from his dangerous lips. “Fun that leads to nothing.”

“That’s the point,” he says, as relaxed as ever. “The stress and pressure of dating for more are eliminated when you mess around for fun.”

And like that, my clarity is muddled again. “I’ve never thought about it like that.” I definitely put pressure on myself and the guys I date, because I’m always worried if it will last or work out or leave me heartbroken.

“Dash texted,” I blurt, grasping at any reason not to agree with Easton’s proposal. “He still wants to marry me.”

“What?” He stiffens. “When did he text you?”

“Yesterday.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“Not over the phone, just through texts.” Brief texts where I told him I needed time to think.

He runs his hand through his rumpled locks. “How do you feel about it? I mean, do you want to go back to him?”

---