Page 69 of His Best Friend's Baby

Julia took a sip from a glass he hadn’t noticed. The smell of Scotch drowned out the smell of eucalyptus.

“Are you drinking?”

Ice cubes clinked and clattered against glass as she set the tumbler on the armrest of the rocker.

“I found the bottle in the liquor cabinet, covered in an inch of dust. I couldn’t sleep.” Her voice was huskier, deeper. “Seemed like a good idea.”

Jesse caught scent of trouble on the wind and he set his empty bowl on the ground. The shadows, the light on her golden legs, the smell of booze and flowers. He felt doomed, reckless.

“Do you want some?” she asked, gesturing behind her as though the bottle were there somewhere.

“No. I didn’t know you drank.”

“I don’t.” She shrugged and sighed. “Tastes terrible.”

“Good a reason as any not—”

“I don’t think I can sleep here, Jesse.”

He took a deep breath. Another. A long steady exhale as though he were going into battle.

Calm your mind. Calm your heart.

“Why not?”

“The bed…the sheets, the pillows, even the towels in the bathroom, it all smells like you.”

And there it was. The match touched to the dormant flame. His body went hot, his skin felt too tight, too small to contain all of his impulses. She crossed her legs again and he bit his lip against the urge to run his hands up those smooth thighs, past her shorts…

“It’s killing me, Jesse.”

Stand up. Go inside. Leave. Walk away.

“It’s killing me to be in this house with you and not touch you.”

But he sat there, waiting for the inevitable.

She stood. “I’d better go,” she whispered.

She stepped in front of him to make her way inside, but he stopped her. He put his rough palm to the satin skin of her knee and she moaned.

All of the large and small reins he’d attached to himself strained. All of the locks he’d used to manage his feelings for Julia bent and twisted under the force of his desire.

“I can’t do this if you’re going to pull away from me,” she said. “It hurts too much.”

“I know.” He brushed the back of his hands up her lean muscles until his fingers slid under the hem of her shorts. “It hurts me, too.”

The locks snapped and he pressed on the backs of her knees with his fingers until she folded across his lap, straddling him. His hands curled around her hips to the flesh he’d admired for so long and he pulled her in closer until their bellies touched.

Her damp lips parted and, before she could say anything, he kissed her.

It was wet, her mouth open and hot and waiting for him. It was like sliding into fire. He went from fighting himself to fighting to get closer in a heartbeat. His hands slid from her hips to her back and pressed her as fully as he could against his chest. She was so small, he could wrap his arms around her twice. His fingertips brushed the soft sweet curve of her breast under her T-shirt and she moaned into his mouth.

She buried her hands into his hair and arched her hips against him. He could feel the heat of her through his jeans.

He wanted to touch her. He wanted her in his arms, naked and wet. For hours. Years. The rest of his life. These tastes, the desperate touches and soft squirms of her body against him, were torture. Torture he couldn’t get enough of.

“We have to go inside,” he murmured and, before she could shift or pull back, he simply stood. Julia, bless her, curled her legs around his hips so he could carry her.

He nearly pulled the screen door off its hinges with his urgency. He walked through the dark house to the bedroom he’d been using.

He bent, setting her on the rumpled sheets and, as if she’d read his mind, she didn’t let go. She pulled him on top of her.

He eased his hand down her shirt, pressing the thin cotton against her body. She was naked underneath, her nipple pebbled under the pink cloth. He leaned down and took it in his mouth through the T-shirt.

She hissed and arched, pushing her sex against his. She pressed kisses wherever they would land—his head, the side of his neck—and he wanted to smile at her clumsy fervor.

He understood it. Something about having her breast in his mouth made him feel like a teenager, untouched and blind with lust.

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