Page 65 of Old Acquaintances

“That doesn’t count,” Serena says.

My jaw goes slack. “I kissed him. That counts!”

“That was not a kiss.” Serena crosses her arms. “It looked like you accidentally bumped your face into his.”

Wyatt insists, “Thirty seconds! With tongue.”

“What?” I growl.

“If he’s going to sleep on this couch, that’s the better bet. Thirty seconds. Tongue.”

I look at Tucker for help. He leans down to his elbows and shrugs.

“Ugh. Fine.” I slide to the floor beside him.

The side of his mouth lifts.

I turn back to our friends and order, “Everyone turn around.”

“What?” Wyatt laughs.

“I can’t do this with you all watching.”

“How’s this?” Serena covers her eyes with her face.

I add, “And someone time it.”

They grumble and laugh, covering their eyes and I turn back to Tucker. His chest heaves.

“I’ll tell you when to start the clock,” he says.

I’m sitting on my left butt cheek. My ears ring with anticipation. I make a motion to lower myself to him when his hand reaches for my neck.

“Now,” he says, and his mouth captures mine. I expect it soft and gentle, but he pulls me to him with the fervor of someone looking for an oxygen source.

Thirty seconds.

My hand rests on his leg and I let Tucker ravish my mouth as if he knows every nook and cranny of it.

Twenty-five seconds.

There’s nothing slow or tender in his touch. He’s holding me, consuming me, so intensely that I don’t have the chance or willpower to pull away from him.

Twenty seconds.

It’s as if Tucker’s trying to shut my brain off. He’s skipping steps, taking me to that place where I’m nothing but a puddle of want. He knows he can do it. He’s done it before.

I whimper, a rush of need in my core, my tongue darting past his lips. The hand on my neck slides down my shoulders. He cradles me to him, and I’m pressed to the cold, hard floor. I breathe into him as his right hand slides up my left thigh. It sneaks under the fabric of my shorts, massaging my skin. He lifts my leg to his hip.

I don’t hear anything but the sound of his breath. I don’t feelanything but his wet mouth, the rough pads of his fingertips, the muscle of his bicep holding my head. I’m not sure what my arms are doing until I feel his hair with one hand and his stomach with the other.

His hand moves higher still, dipping into my underwear and palming my butt cheek. I press my hips into his.

Ritchie says, “We’re not the kind of friends who have sex in front of each other.”

Tucker pulls his head up. His face hovers an inch from mine, eyes darting around my face. He continues to hold me tight.

Locked into his gaze, I breathe, “Was that thirty seconds?”

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