Page 61 of Let It Be Me

I give her a slow, experimental kiss. When I slide both hands around her waist, her body feels totally natural in them, yet I still half expect to be slapped away like a naughty kid. “Do we tell people?”

She looks thoughtful. “I’m not sure what’s to tell yet.” Her voice is soft, fully contained by the single inch of space between us. “Plus, don’t you think this is the best secret we’ve ever had?” She brushes her lips against mine and flicks her tongue out to taste me. I catch her there, her bottom lip in my teeth, her body squeezed tight in my hands, and I push her down onto Reeve’s bed and climb on top of her. Maybe I said I’d never touch his bed, but once again, I was wrong.

Thisisthe best secret we’ve ever had, I think as my mouth explores her tongue and her ears and all the sweet, innocent parts of her that I’ve spent hours staring at and never thought I’d know the feel of under my own lips. Even if we’re in my friend’s dark, cluttered bedroom and our clothes stay on and the gentle, PG-13 nature of it makes my dick strain painfully, the fact that everyone downstairs assumes we’re either fucking like we have a hundred times before or bickering like we have a thousand times before makes kissing my best friend by far the best secret we’ve ever had.

TWENTY-THREE

ruby

A thrillingand uncomfortable undercurrent of energy has been alive inside me in the eighteen hours since Lorenzo and I kissed—since I told him the truth and somehow, for once in my life, got exactly what I want.

As I wait for him to come over, I pour that energy into cleaning my small apartment: gathering laundry, dusting my bedroom, changing my sheets. As I’m vacuuming under the bed, I spot a dust-covered slip of hot-pink paper: Wythe’s comments that I hastily scribbled down.

I still don’t know why I did it. I was angry when I wrote it, but that’s not all. Ever since she gave me shit for not working hard, I find myself liking Wythe. Maybe I like anyone who sees promise in me. My mind goes to the email I spotted and quickly deleted from my inbox this morning, a newsletter from the food sciences department with Shreya Wythe’s name in the headline. I grab my phone, find the newsletter in my deleted folder, and read the short interview with Wythe.

Afterward, I compose an email to her before I can have second thoughts. I don’t assume too much friendliness because I’m pretty sure she doesn’t like me. But I suspect she wants to. Icheck my spelling and grammar twice before hitting Send. Then there’s a knock at my door.

My whole body warms when I find Lorenzo standing there. I can’t stop smiling. And are those ... nerves? I’ve felt a lot of things for Lorenzo, but I’ve never felt nervous.

“Brought you something.” He holds out a small box with a bright yellow ribbon. His smile is faint and a little shy, a smile I’ve seen him give to others but never to me. My insides flutter.

“Gifts already?” I take the box and wave him inside. “Is this the sort of thing I’m supposed to open in private?”

“Nah, figured I’d work up to that.”

I hesitate just inside the doorway. Normally we’d head for my couch, but this isn’t normal. There’s something new here that didn’t exist before. There’s me and Lorenzo, and now we’reus. Not the us that everyone has always known but the new kind, the kind that exists only when no one else is watching. It was never intended to be a secret, but the secret is practically the best part.

I lead him into my bedroom and sit on the edge of the bed. He follows me closely, then watches as I open the box.

“Kvikk Lunsj!” I cry, pulling out the four bars of chocolate wrapped in red, yellow, and green packaging—basically the best candy ever invented. “Where did you even find these?”

“The European market.”

“I’ve never seen them there.” I hold one bar up to my nose and inhale the sweet cocoa scent. I discovered Kvikk Lunsj on a family vacation to Norway years ago and have tasted them only a handful of times since.

“Must be your lucky day.”

I smile, a little self-conscious but in a good way. “So is this what it’s like being one of Lorenzo’s girls? Showered with gifts all day?”

“Is this what it’s like being one of Ruby’s boys? Led to the bedroom first thing?” His hand slides over the bed toward my thigh.

“Only the ones who bring me gifts,” I tease.

His eyes flare in mock shock, and he squeezes my thigh hard, tickling me. I jerk back, letting out an incredibly unsexy snort. Lorenzo laughs, and then I’m lying back on the bed and he’s looking down at me like he wants to roll right on top of me.

“What I wouldn’t give for two good shoulders right now.” He shoves a few pastel stuffed animals off the bed without breaking my gaze.

“Guess you’ll have to be the one on your back.”

I stack two pillows and he lies down against them. He draws his finger slowly under my chin, and I can feel what’s going to happen next, but it doesn’t happen yet. He hesitates and I stay where I am, gazing at him, anxious to do what we’re about to do—kiss and maybe more—but scared too. He cups his good arm around my waist and pulls me close.

“Come here.” His voice has dropped an octave.

I straddle him, remembering the last time I did this and how certain I felt then. Lorenzo draws one hand slowly from my shoulder to my belly to my thigh in a teasing threat to tickle me again, a flicker of a smile on his lips. My body tenses, but it’s not about the tickling. His eyes follow his hand, and I can’t get enough of the look in them as he watches himself touch my body. Like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Like he’s half expecting me to stop him at any second. I cover his hand with mine and slide it slowly back up my body until he’s cupping my face, and when I lean down, he lifts his head and kisses me like he can’t wait that extra second it would take me to reach him.

I might be on top, but he’s setting the pace. Soft and slow kisses; god, Lorenzo is the master of slow seduction. His hand tangles in my hair on the side of my head, and I ache to feel thathand slide down my body and inside my shorts, but he grips his fingers tight like he’s using all his strength just to stay anchored there. Lorenzo has always had the kind of self-control I could only dream of. I focus on the sweet warmth of his mouth and the masculine feel of his jawline under his stubble. For now it’ll have to be enough. Being with Lorenzo always makes me feel like we have forever.

A familiar ping of an incoming text sounds from Lorenzo’s phone. Then a second. He pauses. “Were we supposed to do something?”

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