“You look beautiful tonight. I mean, bombshell beautiful,” he whispered.
I should make him stop saying these things. He was feeding my addiction to him.
“What are you thinking?” he asked when I didn’t respond. His hands roamed down to my waist then slid up my back again.
“I think I like dancing with you more than I should,” I replied. His lips brushed my neck, but in the mayhem of sensations assaulting me, maybe I imagined it.
The song ended, and I started to pull away. “Not yet,” he said. “Can we stay here, like this, for a bit longer? I don’t want to go back.”
Those words had more meaning than he’d intended, didn’t they? What did he mean like this? Like Ash and Luke—lifelong friends—but closer, touching, on the brink of something?
Luke
She felt so good. This felt so good, so right. Did she feel it too? I didn’t want to be here anymore. I wanted it to be just Ash and me. I didn’t want to talk to all these people who were part of my working life. Ash was my real life.
The music changed to something more up-tempo. She pulled back again, and this time I let her. “Wanna get out of here?” I asked.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay and celebrate your win?”
“Have you still got that tequila you brought back from Mexico at your place?” I asked.
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Let’s go and have a celebratory shot.”
She grinned, and we headed out, my hand at the small of her back. I didn’t want to lose contact with her, not for a second. We didn’t stop to say we were leaving; we just headed to the exit, found a cab. I was nervous. I’d been to Ash’s place a million times, but tonight was different. Tonight, she wasn’t just Ash my best friend, she was Ash the bombshell. Ash who I had slow danced with. Ash who I’d almost kissed. Ash who I wanted to kiss.
“So, thanks for inviting me tonight,” she said, almost as if she was trying to find something to say.
“I’m really pleased you came,” I said. I meant it.
“I’ll be your fill-in date anytime.” She grinned at me. She was so beautiful. The light collected around her, making her glow.
I took a beat just to savor that incredible smile. “You’ll never be that, Ash.” Her eyes narrowed, just slightly. If I hadn’t known her, I wouldn’t have noticed. “You’re no-one’s understudy.”
“I just meant—”
“I didn’t invite you tonight because Emma and I’d split—I asked you before that happened. I asked you because there was no one I’d rather spend an evening with.” I meant it.
She didn’t respond, so I searched her face to see if she’d understood. I found a mixture of confusion and apprehension on her face. Was I coming on too strong? Did she not feel this?
The cab pulled up to her building before I got a chance to ask her. I followed her into the night air and into her building. We were silent in the lift. Every atom of my body wanted to pull her toward me, but I resisted. I didn’t want to scare her. I’d hate to spoil our friendship if she didn’t feel the same way. I couldn’t live without her in my life in one way or another—but in that moment I wanted her to be my whole life.
“So, tequila,” she said as she flung her bag on the hall table, kicked off her shoes and made her way to the kitchen. I followed her, pulled out two shot glasses from the cupboard above the refrigerator and then grabbed limes, quickly cutting them into slices. I knew her kitchen almost better than I knew the one I’d shared with Emma. Ash produced the tequila and the salt, and we settled ourselves in the living room, sitting on the rug, our ingredients set out in front of us on the coffee table.
We exchanged glances, as if we knew we were at the starting line. I raised the tequila bottle as a question and she nodded.
“We should do a truth or a dare before every shot,” she announced.
I grinned. Perfect.
“You start,” she said.
I carefully poured out the shots, trying to formulate a question that would open the door without scaring her off. “Did you find Isaac attractive?” I asked. I wanted to know the answer. What was her type? Was it Richard? Isaac?
Me?
She frowned and regarded me carefully. “He’s good looking,” she said as my heart sped up. It wasn’t the answer I’d wanted. “And funny, which is important. I guess a little.” Jealousy gnawed at my gut and I tried to take a deep breath without her noticing.
“Do you have a type?” I asked. My attention was focused on her lithe legs as she shifted to sit cross-legged in front of me.
“Hey, you can’t have two questions in a row. Do your shot.”
I grinned, licked the back of my hand, poured on the salt and did my shot. I felt Ash’s gaze on me. What was she thinking? I closed my eyes as the tequila burned a trail down my throat. What was she going to ask me?
I watched as she refilled my glass. “Your turn,” I said.
She ran her index finger across her bottom lip as she considered her question. Blood sped to my cock at the thought of her mouth on me.
“What do you want me to ask you?”
I held her gaze. She was clever. She’d asked me a question without asking me a question. She was holding back, and I understood that. This was new, shaky territory that we were in. The corners of my mouth twitched.
“Ask me something . . . intimate.”
Did her breath catch?
She searched for the salt, and I picked it up as she reached for it. Instead of giving it to her, I took her hand, turning it to expose her palm. I leaned forward and licked a line across her wrist. She tasted as sweet as she smelled, and I had to hold myself back from pinning her to the floor and devouring her whole. Her eyes were fixed to mine and her mouth was parted. I poured salt across the wet mark I’d made, but didn’t let go of her hand.
Slowly she bent her head, her tongue echoing the path I’d just made, and reluctantly I let go of her hand. She threw back her shot.
Keeping her eyes on mine, she licked her fingers free of lime juice.
“Your turn,” she said, shifting forward, her dress revealing the curve of her breast. I had to suppress a moan. She was so fucking beautiful.
“When you put on that dress tonight, did you want me to notice you?”
She looked away and whispered, “I always want you to notice me.”
My stomach flipped. She was raising the stakes. Quickly, I did my shot. I wanted to know what was next.
“Why are you here?” she asked, looking directly at me.
It was a good question. The ultimate question. Why was I there? I was there to risk everything. I could fob her off. Tell her we were celebrating, rather than mention how I wanted to spend every last moment of this evening with her. It was as though this urge to be with her had broken free within me and now was overwhelming my every thought, my every action.
“Because I want to kiss you,” I said. It had been true since I’d first seen her in that dress; it just wasn’t the whole truth.
Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away. “All of a sudden?” she asked, suspicion in her voice.
“Hey, you can’t have two questions in a row. Do your shot,” I said, using her words against her. “Do you want me to help?”
“I think I can manage this time.”
I needed her to digest what I’d said. I wanted to give her time to think about whether or not she wanted to kiss me. Would I have to convince her to kiss me back?
Without sparing me a single glance, she went through the tequila ritual, squeezing her eyes shut at the burn of the alcohol.