Page 25 of The Close-Up (Hollywood Renaissance 1.50)

“Except I did. Twice. The second time your mother said she thought it best I not call again. Not for Cliff.” I hold her stare. “And not for you.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised. The punch was on every sports channel. Reporters were in our front yard. Colleges that had made offers withdrew them immediately.” She shakes her head and sighs. “If they weren’t talking about how bad Cliff had screwed up, they were talking about how you stepped up.”

“I’m sorry.”

I’m not sorry for anything I did, but for how things went so badly for him.

“Talking with you, going out with you—anything with you right after it happened,” she says, “would have felt like a betrayal to Cliff.”

“I get it. You had to focus on your family.” I shrug. “To be honest, so did I. My mom was only getting worse, and the bills weren’t going anywhere. I had to make the most of that opportunity for her and my sisters.”

“Which is exactly where your focus should have been. I mean, yeah, you and I had a great conversation on that roof and—”

“We did more than talk,” I remind her with a wry smile.

She had said I was the first to make her come. That should count for something.

Her eyes snap to mine, a slow smile kissing her lips. “True, and it was…great. It really was, but he’s my brother, and he was at his lowest point. Going out with you would have been salt in the wound.”

“I get that,” I say, nodding. “I wish things could have been different, but I get it.”

“You’re a trigger for him. When you got drafted into the League, he was so bitter. He went on one of his worst trips that week. And when you won your ring…” She shakes her head and closes her eyes. “It was bad. When they did that stupid documentary, he was so upset, we almost lost him.”

“What do you mean?” I ask with a quick frown.

“He overdosed,” she says, her voice hushed, her eyes haunted. “He flatlined, and they revived him. It almost killed Mama, too.”

Hearing that, I’m horrified. I know it’s not my fault, but guilt saws my insides nonetheless. I push away from the table and move to face her, standing in front of her still seated on the table’s edge. “I had no idea.”

“He’s lost everything, Naz. He has two kids with a good woman, but she left when he spiraled again. She had just been through too much. She’s with another guy now, and Cliff is finally getting access to the kids again. He’s piecing things back together.”

“I reached out a few times in the past, but he was never receptive.” I take both her hands in mine. “But if there’s anything I can ever do to help, let me know.”

“Maybe give up on this idea of us going out,” she says softly, half-hopefully.

“We shouldn’t have to.” I tighten my grip on her fingers and shake my head, holding her eyes with mine. “I get why then it was bad timing, but maybe now…it could be right.”

She sucks her teeth but makes no move to pull her hands away. “It’s not worth the drama it’ll cause if Cliff finds out.”

“Not worth it to who?” I ask, stepping closer, filling the small space between her knees. With one finger, I lift her chin, caressing the tiny indentation bisecting the delicate surface. “I’d like to at least see if it could be worth it to me.”

Even now, this close, the pull between us is strong, vital. I lean forward, never dropping her eyes from mine, giving her plenty of time to pull away, to push me away, if she chooses.

She doesn’t choose.

The shorter the distance between our lips, the closer I get, the shorter her breaths come, shallow pants that lift her breasts and coast past her full lips. I’m so close now, we exchange a ragged sigh, my mouth hovering over hers.

“I’mma kiss you now,” I whisper. “Unless you tell me not to.”

Her silence stretches between us, and her lashes drop to cover the emotions swimming in her eyes—curiosity, lust, need.

Guilt.

I press a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth, nibble at the full curve of her bottom lip, lick the delicately drawn bow at the top. She gasps, her mouth opening the smallest bit. I take immediate advantage, licking into her, seeking and finding the sweet, slick interior. She moans, and I suck on her tongue, at first gentle, and then incited by the whimpers slipping from her throat, harder.

I cup her face between my hands, thumbing the smooth skin of her cheeks. The cadence of the kiss changes, intensifies as our movements become more hurried, more desperate. I slide my palms down her neck, over her shoulders and back.

“You feel good,” I mutter against her lips.

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