Page 61 of Beautifully Devoted

“Kiss him.” The smirk on her face is downright wicked.

“What are we, twelve?” I slam the rest of my beer, set it on the table, and stand up so fast she’s forced to take a few steps back so I don’t knock her over. Then I offer my hand to Cam and pull him up so he’s standing slightly behind me, hand still clasped in mine. “I’m not going to perform like some circus animal just because you don’t believe me.”

“You’d only have to perform if this is all an act,” she retorts, which…is a good point. But I’m doing this to spare her feelings, so I dig my heels in.

“Believe me or don’t, that’s up to you. But I’m not going to cheapen what we have by jumping through a bunch of hoops to convince you it’s real.”

“I don’t believe it. This is obviously bullshit.”

Damn. I expected her to be too shocked to call me out. Now what?

“Look, I’m sorry this isn’t what you wanted to hear, but it’s true.” I try to step around her, but she blocks my path.

“Even he knows you’re lying.” Anna points a finger at Bennet. “What kind of asshole makes up a story about dating his best friend instead of just saying he’s not interested?”

Well, fuck. I sort of thought the story would be letting her down easy, but maybe I am an asshole. No better than the guy who spawned me. How do I fix this?

“I—” Nothing else comes out because I’m suddenly being pulled by the waist of my shorts, and I stumble right into Cam’s chest with a thud that robs me of air.

Did he just manhandle me? That’s kinda… Wait, am I standing on my own or is he holding me up?

Chests pressed together, my eyes travel from his mouth—mere inches from my own—to his whisky-brown gaze, and my breath catches all over again when I realize underneath the protective expression he usually wears when he steps in on my behalf, there’s a hint of desire. It’s faint, but to me it’s unmistakable, and the shockwaves it ignites have me as amped as I get before a game.

My heart thumps louder than the bass coming through the speakers, and the music around us morphs into a persistent hum. Conversations grow indistinguishable. Faces become a blur. There’s only Cam and his plump lips, so close I could touch them with mine if I rock my weight onto my toes, and the urge to do it is so overpowering I nearly do.

I hold still though, waiting to see what he has in mind.

I’m half-expecting him to crush his mouth to mine in a brutal kiss intended to save me from my own ramblings, because saving me is what he does. But instead of smashing our faces together he pauses, his intent stare holding me captive for a beat before it falls to my lips.

“Should I stop?” He arches a brow as his eyes find mine again.

My gaze settles on his mouth. “Hell no.”

With exaggerated slowness, he leans in just enough to brush his lips against mine. It’s so soft, so tender, I almost wonder if I’ve imagined the contact. But the spark of electricity that jumps between us, kicking my heart into overdrive, tells me we are touching.

Kissing.

And even though it’s slight, only the barest of pressure, it might just be the hottest thing I’ve ever felt on my lips. Utter bliss.

I need more.

Leaning in, I up the contact slightly, and feel his breath catch. I whimper, whimper, and lean in for more.

He meets me halfway, opening his mouth just enough that the tip of his tongue can slip past his lips to glide along mine. My chest does this weird thump that feels like it’s going to burst from such a slight tease, and I tilt my head and open my mouth so I can taste him to the fullest.

There’s a hint of cheap beer and the burritos we had for dinner in his kiss, but there’s also the leather and wood aroma that’s so distinctly Cam, which all combine in this heady mix that has my dick stirring behind the waistband he’s still got a hold of.

It’s official, this is hotter than the berry crap most women slather on their lips.

I just barely stop myself from laughing as that thought crosses my mind—fruity shit always tasted good to me before—but Cam tastes better.

Lost to the most intense kiss of my life, I’m vaguely aware of a gasp next to me, but I can’t be bothered to see what it is. Cam’s lips are on mine, his tongue licking into my mouth, and I’m fucking floating.

Why have we never done this before? Fuck, we’ve been missing out. I could come from this alone.

The hands that had been frozen at my side find their way to his waist, and I cling to him to keep myself upright as I chase his tongue, suddenly ravenous for the taste of him.

Something akin to a roar rumbles between us, and while I’m ninety percent sure it came from him, I can’t swear it didn’t come from me since I have this near primal urge to claim my best friend’s mouth. To fuse myself to him until I come or pass out, whichever happens first. I don’t even care which, since it feels so good. So right.

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