Page 165 of Overcast

“No, but I have one hell of a pair of lips and a tiny crush that says I can make you feel something else.”

“A what?” I squeeze the water bottle, hearing the crush of plastic underneath my fingertips, and I quickly recant my actions to keep my shock in check.

“Oh yeah,” Mills continues nonchalantly. “I’ve been crushing on you since day one.”

I blush, that darn thing always comes at the worst times. “Um...you—”

“Never gave me a shot, though. I mean, I get it—” He lets out an inaudible exhale from his lips, but his chest heaves downward. “—Marty is all mysterious and shit but, I’m funny. And I’m not that bad looking.”

“No, but I’m not that kind of girl.”

“What kind of girl is that?” His eyes squint, and he tilts his head like I’m insane for acting like a girl who just time-warped out of the ‘40s. As though I’m waiting faithfully for my beau to come home from the war or some crap.

“The one who—” I wave a hand dismissively in the air. “—does things like that.”

“Who’ll know? We’ll see if we’re good at it, and if we are, you can think about it.”

“Think about what?” My heart begins erratically thrashing in my chest.

I’m not scared of Mills.

In fact, he’d be the last person I’d be afraid of.

However, I don’t know if I’m built to kiss two guys in one week.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to get back at Marty for some shit in the past.” He playfully winks at me, his boyish looks making him look completely innocent. “Call it brotherly love.” He peers around the encasement of trees around us. “Wanna thank me for taking care of you then?”

“Mills.” I narrow my eyes at his brown hair and the subtle stubble on his jawline. “Are you guilt tripping me now?”

He bends over, fighting back his smirk, and turns his face away, exposing his cheek to me. “I’m ready.”

I hesitate before moving, clasping both sides of his face and planting a soft kiss to the scruff of his cheek. He moves in my grasp, making our lips parallel to each others’. His gray eyes search mine, looking for permission because he’d never take without it.

That’s one thing I like about Mills, he’s always been nothing but respectful. Someone I wish I would’ve met sooner. A man that would be a better fit for me minus whatever it is that he does with Marty and the gang.

I abolish the space, connecting my lips to his because curiosity got the best of me and screw everything else.

I don’t owe anyone an explanation.

I never experimented or made huge mistakes growing up, so I’ll do them now. I’m already on a good path for it.

Mills’ mouth moves delicately, learning and feeling, his gentle approach making me feel comfortable in his space. Taking another chance, I open my lips wider, giving him the opportunity to take this joining to the next level or keep it PG-rated.

He takes it without hesitation, his tongue swirling around mine, and an urge to moan through his expertise of kissing flicks at my throat.

Damn Mills.

Hands find my hips as he straightens to his full height which is perfect. With Marty, I have to tip my feet to reach his mouth. With Mills, I still have to crane my neck, but this position of my throat being fully exposed and still being completely grounded to the dirt underneath me—I like it.

We find our rhythm, starting to get the hang of each other’s speed when he suddenly disappears to my surprising dismay. My eyes fly open, expecting him to be smiling down at me or looking at me like that didn’t do anything for him.

But instead, it’s Marty’s murderous features that stand in front of me, twisted in the most furious and defeated I’ve ever seen him. It hurls me back into our first week or so together, the look of destruction that lit up his face.

That’s how he’s looking at me right now.

And when I think he’s about to open his mouth to let me have it, he turns, his fist flying into Mills’ face.

“Marty!” I exclaim, stepping in to stop him, but they both merge further away from me.

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