Page 66 of What if I Told You

What the…

Catching me off guard, I nearly fall backwards against the cabinet but he steadies both of us with a wrap of his strong arm around my waist and then backs us up so I’m effectively trapped against the kitchen counter. The bottle slips from my hand and tips over on the counter but August is quick to push it into the sink, his other hand never leaving my body.. I brace my hands against his rock-hard chest, letting them slide down his abdomen until I’m clutching the fabric of his soft t-shirt.

His lips move against mine hungry at first, like he needs every breath I have inside me. I willingly part my lips for him and he softens, moaning against my mouth.

He. Just. Moaned. Against. My. Mouth.

This is really fucking happening.

August Blackstone is kissing me.

With his thumb on my chin, he repositions my head to the side and takes full advantage of the better access, dipping his tongue into my welcoming mouth. I swipe my tongue against his and he moans again.

And suddenly I’m not so sure this is a pity kiss.

Because he’s not stopping.

And he’s using tongue.

Oh, my God, August’s tongue.

Finally letting myself take a little of what I’ve wanted for a long time, I tighten my grip on his shirt and kiss him back with a little more fervor and a lot more desire. And every moment of it is the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced.

He tastes like beer and pizza and I don’t even know if this is real anymore or if I’m dreaming all this but just in case it is a dream, I take advantage of the moment while I can. I sneak a hand up the back of his t-shirt, gripping his muscled back, and he responds by pulling me closer against him. Close enough that I can feel his growing length beneath his sweats.

Dear Jesus…how did I not know just how big my best friend is?

What I wouldn’t give to touch it.

To give it a squeeze.

To see it with my own two eyes.

His lips are so soft as he moves against mine, sucking in my bottom lip, caressing my tongue with his, and holding me to him as if I might really be his.

The feeling is remarkable and one I wish so badly I could revel in.

I wish I could be his.

After all these years spent as best friends, August knows me inside and out.

He knows everything about me.

And I know everything about him.

It’s like we were meant to be together but have denied ourselves all this time.

This kiss gives me hope.

Hope that maybe crossing the line from friends to lovers wouldn’t be the end of the world.

Scary? Yes.

Doable? Perhaps.

“Fuck,” he mutters, pulling himself from me just as swiftly as he started, his forehead resting against mine. His breaths fast and sharp as his chest heaves. He bites his top lip as he stares at the ground, refusing to look at me. And he doesn’t say a word more.

Yeah that’s what I thought.

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