Page 95 of Friends Don't Kiss

He lifts his head, looking at me with amusement. “Vajayjay?” he repeats mockingly. Lowering his gaze, he adds, “Thisis the ultimate cupcake. Don’t care what silly name you want to call it. This here is my cupcake.”

His lazy tongue strokes kindle my arousal, but then he seems to have a different idea and licks his way up to my neck, then cups my whole body in one arm and pulls my back against his front. “You okay being the little spoon?” he asks as he wraps a leg over my hips and strokes my arm.

What is he talking about? “The what?”

His stroking halts a beat before resuming, but he doesn’t answer my question. “I’m not too heavy, am I?” he asks instead.

“No, I’m good,” I answer, wiggling my ass to be deeper inside his hold.

“God you feel so good,” he says, propping his head on one hand, the other caressing my shoulder, my breasts, my hip, then back up all the way to my head. I feel him harden a little against me, and it makes me want him again.

But without transition, he says, “Dude has a nice place here.”

We’re both looking in the same direction. The bedroom area on the mezzanine opens on the vast living area below, all natural wood and exposed beams. A comfortable sectional is an invitation to cuddle and read all day near the wood-burning fireplace, looking outside to the evergreens heavy with fresh snow. I’m just now noticing the bedroom—deep white duvet, fluffy white faux fur area rugs on blond hardwood floors, soft pastels of deer, wolves, and bears on the walls. “The best.”

He drops a kiss on the edge of my ear. “You like?”

“Love it. Don’t you?” I ask, twisting my neck to look at him.

He has a dreamy smile on his face. “Yeah.”

“I don’t ever want to leave,” I whisper.

He cups my hip. It seems to be his favorite place to rest his hand. “Pretty sure we can stay as long as we need to.”

“It’s not like we can go anywhere,” I add. The race car is barely visible under the snow now, and you can’t tell the access road from the rest of the forest floor.

“What kind of birth control are you on?” he asks out of the blue.

I flop on my back to look at him “The Pill. Why?”

His gaze roams my face. “Bad periods?” he asks.

It’s just like Colton to know about these things. “The worst.”

He pushes a lock of hair behind my ear. “Does the Pill help?”

I shrug. “Kinda.”

He stays silent for a little bit, caressing my belly. “You hungry?” he asks.

“Starving.”

thirty-four

Colton

WhileKiaratakesaquick shower, I open a can of soup and heat it on the stovetop, setting crackers and cheese on a plate. We also have sliced roast beef and a chicken jambalaya the woman at the deli insisted we try, but I’ll let Kiara decide if and when she wants that.

I’m not real hungry right now, especially not when I see her come out of the bathroom wrapped in a plush white robe that’s big enough to cover her feet, the sleeves rolled so much they look like floaters. “It’s all yours,” she says.

I kiss her lips, wanting her again. I was dying to shower with her, but I know better than to ask for too much, too soon. Kiara’s virginity is—was—not so much about anatomy as it is about trust. She knew where all her relevant parts were. She knew what to expect when I made love to her.

But she’s still a virgin when it comes to intimacy.

My body hums at the thought of everything I want to do to her, with her—that I will do. Starting with taking a bath together. And showering together.

This place has a Jacuzzi bath, and I’m not letting it go to waste.

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