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He grins, encouraged by my tone, but he doesn’t budge. “I wouldn’t mind having your exact location in the palm of my hand for whenever I want it. But nice try—I’m still walking you home.” To my dismay, he lets go of my arm and continues walking.
When we reach my apartment on the sixth floor, I half expect him to be out of breath, but he doesn’t even seem to have broken a sweat. And why would he, considering the amount of time he spends at the gym? And while he doesn’t look like he’s physically exhausted after going up six flights of stairs, when I slide my keys into the lock, ready to kick open my door, when I look up at him over my shoulder to thank him and wish him a good night, I do notice he’s almost panting. His cheeks flush as one of his hands grips the frame of my front door, arm tense as if he were losing his hold on himself and his grip on everything around him.
“Will?” I gasp when his pupils dilate as he leans in closer. He isn’t touching me, yet I feel the heat of him all over my body.
“I had a good time tonight,” he manages to say after appearing to struggle through his words.
“Me too. Thank you. For coming to see me.”
“Anything. Anytime. Whenever you need me, I’ll be there.”
In all honesty, for a moment I almost forgot why Will and I even met up in the first place. Why we broke our rules and decided to leave our virtual relationship behind in place for an actual, in real life one. He made me forget about anything else that wasn’t him.
“Right. Work. Thank you for listening to me.”
He reaches out and pushes a strand of hair behind my ear, following his movements with his eyes as he does. “You okay, then? For me to go?”
I catch his hand by the wrist before he can take it away, move it down to the nape of my neck where he digs his fingers into my hair.
“Do youwantto go?” My eyes widen as I see the shift in his expression from sweet and caring to hungry and animalistic. Is this happening? I mean, he sort of rejected me at the bar, but now…
His eyes study me as he leans forward, almost pressing me against my front door. His hand moves to cup my jaw this time, forehead pressed to mine. I feel the inevitable crimson blush spread up my chest and neck, travel all the way to my cheeks.
He moves his lips to my ear and whispers: “Do you know how many times I’ve imagined running my tongue over that perfect fucking skin just to taste your blush?”
A breath gets caught in my throat, though no oxygen appears to make it into my lungs. I drop my keys and bag on the floor, freeing my hands to clasp them behind his neck. His hands fly to my hips beneath my open coat and he pushes me against my door with a thud, fingers digging into me. And that’s when it feelit.Pressed against my stomach, hard and long. And it feelsincredible.Our lips are less than a centimeter apart now. The heat radiating from them almost burns. I ache, I whine, as he teases me, pressing a small kiss on the corner of my mouth, running his tongue on my bottom lip. I can barely breathe when he presses me harder still. He is predator and I am preyand I fucking love it.
“Please,” I beg him.
“Please what?” he murmurs, placing a kiss against the side of my neck. I close my eyes and swallow as I feel his teeth graze the delicate skin before following it with a kiss.
“Youknowwhat,” I whine, two seconds away from bursting into tears. I’ve wanted this man for what feels like a lifetime. And for some unthinkable reason, he’s here in my arms, and based on theveryhard and very,verypromising erection pressed up against me, he wants me, too.
While he’s kissing my neck, gliding his nose up and down, telling me he never would’ve imagined I smelled this good—So fucking good, Bridge; better than I ever could’ve dreamed—I still haven’t been able to do more than hold on to his broad shoulders for fear of passing out. “Will,please, god.”
“You are…” he huffs, his hands digging into my hair, hips pressing me into the door. “Youare.” He practically growls the word, like my existence alone is enough to drive him wild.
Finally, he takes my face in his hands and presses his lips to mine, parting them with his. I can’t help the moan in the back of my throat when he nips at my top lip before soothing it with his tongue, or when I lick the inside of his mouth and he answers with a growl. I can’t help the way one of my legs wraps around his hip, the skirt of my dress riding up and exposing my thigh. The way I try to relieve some of the tension with friction. I can’t help the heat that builds between my legs and I thinkOh my god, this is going to be the best sex of my life. The best sex ever that anyone has ever had. I just know it.
But something breaks through the fog of lust, a noise I’m all too familiar with. I hear the scratches and the wailing coming from the other side of my apartment door and some motherly instinct I didn’t even know I had manages to pull me away from thoughts of devouring this man. Ginger is howling aggressively, begging for food.
“Shit,” I say when I pull away, trying to catch my breath. “I—I have to feed her. It’s almost ten o’clock. Way past her dinner time.”
Will looks a mess, with his hair mussed, perfect lips red and swollen. His shirt somehow untucked and coat half pushed off his shoulders. When didthathappen? I watch him try and process my words—it takes him a while to get there. “Ginger?”
“Yeah.” I clear my throat, run my fingers through my hair.
“Right. Your cat. Okay. I… Do you want me to go then?”
“No!” I say, a bit too enthusiastic. “I mean… No. Come in. It’s not the most luxurious apartment around, but it’s home. And I don’t want you to go.”
He grins and reaches for my hand. “You don’t?”
“No. Come inside; let me introduce you to Ginger.”
WILL
Yes, he kissed her. Yes, he now gets to live for the rest of his life with the knowledge of how Bridget feels in his arms and the way her lips feel against his (twelve out of ten, by the way). But it doesn’t mean anything. Not yet. Especially not after they decided a while back ago to keep things in the friend zone.
