Page 14 of Send It
“Let’s go inside,” I say, ruining the moment before something happens.
I can see the disappointment in her eyes as she opens her door and staggers down the driveway into my house.
When we get inside, she grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and nearly downs the entire thing.
“Thirsty?” I ask, and she smiles.
“You could say that.”
I shake my head and smile, “See that is exactly what I’m talking about.”
She crosses the kitchen and hops up on the counter, her feet hanging over the ledge. “I can’t help it, I have a flirty personality.”
“You weren’t flirty before I ripped you away from Jackson.”
Her eyes burn into mine, “Because you showed up with Brielle.”
It all starts to fall into place, “You cozied up to Jackson because you wanted to make me jealous?”
“It worked, didn’t it?” She smirks, her eyes glassy from all the alcohol. “I don’t want Jackson.”
The air instantly gets heavy between us, and I slip between her legs. “What do you want, baby Bane?”
Her hand slides behind my head, and threads in my hair. I try my best to cram my feelings down, but the way her breath is hot against my neck makes the hair stand on my arms.
“I want you, Colson.”
My entire body ignites with a desire that I’ve never felt.
“Liquid courage?” I ask, tilting my forehead against hers, and she shakes her head.
“I hate you, but I want you.”
I get it.
I hate that I love her, too. Things would be so much easier if I could forget this feeling.
“You don’t hate me,” I say, leaning in closer, our lips almost touching. I feel her breathing turn shallow, and I swear I can feel my heart beating in my fucking ears. “In fact, I don’t think you hate me at all.”
Her eyes fall to my lips and it’s like she’s begging me to kiss her, and honestly, my strength is dwindling, and despite my best efforts, I cave.
My lips fall so gently against hers, and time stops.
I rarely lose control, but I’ve lost it. My body, my mind, my emotions. Nothing is within my reach at this moment.
As the kiss deepens, her thighs tighten around my waist and the only thing separating us is our clothes.
This is the closest I’ve ever been to Lincoln, and instantly the guilt starts to creep into the corner of my mind. The only thing I can think about is what will happen if her brother finds out, or worse, comes walking in.
Jerking away, I create distance between us, “We can’t do this.”
Her cheeks are flushed, and the confusion is evident. She hops off the counter, her converse hitting the tile with a thud. “Can’t or won’t?”
I feel like my heart has sunken into the very pit of my stomach, “Both, Linc. It’s Reiss we’re talking about, he will flip his shit.”
“I can make my own decisions,” she argues. “I can talk to him, Colson.”
“No!” I nearly shout, “No, I mean… he’s not gonna be okay with this. Thisisn’tokay.”
