Raging Heart On (Lucas Brothers #2)(22)

"Maybe you should stop drinking now," she cautions.

"I'm not drunk, not even close. Since when did you get hung up about sex? It's something we should be able to talk freely about."

"I'm not hung up about sex. It just feels strange to talk about sex… with you."

"You mean you can put me on a potential donor list, but not actually talk about sex with me?"

"Well, that's different."

"How so?" I ask her, genuinely interested, plus this stops her from talking, or even thinking, about my brothers.

"Well, I mean there's not much talking during sex. But, to just graphically discuss everything..."

"Honey, I don't know what you're used to, but there's definitely talking during sex."

"I…"

"And graphic details make f*cking fun."

"It does?" Kayla asks, and she has no idea what she's doing to me. Her pale face is heated. Her brown hair is pulled back in a ponytail high on her head, but there are pieces of it framing her face. Her eyes have this huge softness to them that stirs something deep inside of me. She looks innocent and beautiful. So innocent, a man can't help but want to be the one to introduce her to things she's never experienced, and claim that innocence for his own. Fuck. It's like I've opened this giant Pandora's Box where Kayla is concerned and no matter what I do, I just can't get away from it. I want my best friend.

I want her so bad, my damned balls are blue right now.





CHAPTER 15


KAYLA




“Christ, those ass-clowns you’ve been with have showed you nothing,” White mumbles, taking another drink. I’d argue with him, but he’s mostly telling the truth.

"White, I'm thinking we should leave."

"How do you expect to make this work if you don't really know what to do with a man?"

"I know what to do," I argue, not liking the way he's making me feel. I might not be as practiced at sex as he is, but I know the essentials and that's all I need for this.

"It's not about what to do, Buttercup. It's about letting yourself go. It's about showing a man you have what he wants. What he needs."

"I don't think we should discuss—"

"I'm on your list. I think it's the perfect thing for us to discuss. If we do this, then we need to be able to communicate about everything."

"If we? You mean… you want to…?"

“I sure as hell would rather it be me than any of the other *s on that list."

"Your brother is not an *."

"He's an idiot when it comes to women, and those other men are not men at all. That leaves me."

"But you don't think of me like that," I remind him, trying to cap the excitement bubbling up inside of me, but failing.

"I think that's where you need lessons."

"Lessons?"

"On exactly how to seduce a man."

"I thought we were discussing you and I having sex, I don't think I understand what you're saying."

"I'm saying that up until lately… this point, I've always seen you as asexual."

"Well, that's reassuring," I grumble, feeling embarrassed all over again.

"It's just the truth. So, you need to make me see you as a woman."

"Make you see me as a woman?"

"Yep."

"And how do you figure I do that, White Hall? Rip my shirt off and show you my boobs?" I grumble. I mean, how more humiliating can this conversation get? The man that I've been all but grieving over for half my life says I need to make him see me as a woman. I wave the waitress down and order a sangria. I'm going to need something to survive this. Luckily, White doesn't make any snide remarks about my drinking this time. No, he's busy staring at my boobs like he's about to agree to my offer. "No. Absolutely not. I'm not about to take my shirt off in the middle of a crowded bar, White Hall Lucas!"

He swallows and looks up at me with a strange look on his face. "If you're going to say no to everything, Kayla, this is going to be almost impossible," he says.

I sigh. The waitress brings my drink and I sip it before I respond. His idea isn't a bad one, and of all the names on the list, White would be my choice—in more ways than one.

"Fine. What do you suggest? That doesn't involve me stripping naked in a crowded bar," I warn him before he can respond.

"That limits my choices," he says.

"Welcome to my world."

"Fine. Then you should kiss me," White says, like that's the most normal thing in the world.

"Kiss you?"

"Yep. Kiss me and kiss me like you mean it. Kiss me like you do a man you're inviting into your bed."

"Fine. Let's go."

"Go?"

"Home, so we can try this crazy idea of yours."

"No. Here."

"Here?"

"Yeah. Kiss me here, Buttercup. Kiss me right now in this bar and make me forget about all the other women here but you."

My eyes go huge. I can't help it. Talk about pressure. Does he have any idea what he's asking? Kiss the man I love for only the second time in my life? The first time we shared a kiss, I was sixteen and I thought it was the best kiss in my life. White obviously didn't feel the same and that begun our long history of me secretly wishing my best friend was my boyfriend. As I grew older, I knew he loved me, just like I always knew my love for him was different than anything he would ever feel for me. Now I need to forget all of that and just kiss him. Kiss him so he forgets all the other women in the room. Why do I do this kind of stuff to myself? Wouldn't I rather pull my fingernails out with tweezers? Slather myself up in honey and lay on an anthill? Anything?