Anyone But Rich (Anyone But..., #1)(34)

“Since we seem to have a hard time reading each other,” he said. Each word sent a puff of his hot breath against my lips. He was so close now. “I’m about to kiss you. I didn’t want any confusion this time. I’d also prefer if you didn’t punch me again. That really hurt.”

“And I’m about to let you,” I whispered.

There was a world outside this moment, but none of it felt like it mattered. There’d be consequences and drama and maybe even tears, but trying to think about that was like worrying about the price of gas when I was eighty. It was so impossibly distant and so impossibly irrelevant.

Rich was here. His lips were parted and soft and so, so inviting. What else mattered?

He kissed me, or I kissed him. I didn’t know who made the final plunge across those spare, electrified inches between our lips, and I didn’t care.

I could taste the citrusy aftertaste of the cocktail on his lips and on his tongue. I felt like I’d been on a deserted island for years and somebody had just handed me an ice cream cone—except I was making out with the ice cream cone and not eating it, but that wasn’t the point. The point was it had taken only one taste of him to know how starved I’d been for this moment. I was ready for the moment when his strong arms were going to pick me up and carry me off to a bedroom somewhere, but just as quickly as it began, it was over.

My lips were tingling all over, and my cheeks were red and alive from where his stubble had brushed against me.

He lifted me easily, and wrapping my legs around his waist felt frighteningly natural. I felt us teetering backward, but I couldn’t make myself care about where we were going or why. My brain was too wrapped up in his kisses and following the burning path of nerves that trailed everywhere he touched me.

My back bumped against a wall, and his hard body pressed harder into mine. My hips slid down until I could feel the bulge of his arousal against me. Fallen tree or standing tree, it was big. I didn’t need to investigate to know that.

Suddenly it all felt very, very real. I’d crossed over the line of getting caught up in the moment and then fallen headfirst down the hill of irreversible decisions. I was tumbling and tumbling deeper into him, and I couldn’t find the will to even try to stop. I wanted this. Consequences be damned, I wanted Rich.

His hand found the hem of my shirt and slid up my stomach to find my bra. He gripped me there as his hips started slowly rocking into me. There was a music in his movements, like we were tangled in some silent dance, but we both instinctively knew the beat.

He tore his mouth from mine and kissed his way down my neck as his touch became more hungry. His hand found its way inside my bra. I barely felt the way my bra was digging into my back as he forced his hand under and cupped me there. A switch in my brain had flipped where every sensation that came from Rich was good—better than good. It was ecstasy.

And then it was gone.

I realized I was standing on my own again, back against the wall. The pleasant pressure of his manhood throbbing against me was gone, and all that was left of his kisses was the pulsing tingle on my lips. Rich stood inches away from me, eyes down and jaw flexed.

“Wow,” I said.

“Sorry.” He was biting his lip, and he did it in the way only hot guys could. There was nothing vulnerable about the gesture. It was predatory and full of dirty promise. “As much as I’d love to take this further, you’re probably tipsy.”

He was offering me an out. I could see it in his face. He was absolutely ready to dive back in. He wanted to dive back in, but he also knew we’d both been swept up in a moment. I felt my respect for him swell. He was a good guy. Yet I knew convincing myself that Rich wasn’t the enemy was only part of the battle. One third of it, to be exact. Until Iris and Miranda believed it, letting this go on with Rich would be like dropping a nuclear warhead in the center of our friendship.

I closed my eyes and summoned up all the advice I’d ever been given about drugs, alcohol, and sex as a teenager. Just say no. Just say no. Knowing his touch was only one whispered word away was pure torture, but I grimaced and forced the right words out—the ones that wouldn’t destroy my friendship.

“You’re probably right,” I said. I was proud of myself for agreeing with him. My vagina had been driving my brain like it had both hands on the wheel—if vaginas had hands, at least. I’d been ready to let it drive the whole thing over a cliff and watch it all burn down if it meant I got to have one more minute of Rich’s hands on me, but distance was good. I was already seeing more clearly, and I knew it didn’t matter how much we’d misunderstood each other in the past. What mattered was my friends. Miranda and Iris would never forgive me, and coming clean about the kiss was going to be bad enough as it was. At least now I could say we’d stopped it before it got out of hand.

“Damn. I was hoping you’d try to convince me you were sober.” He was grinning, and his cheeks were flushed. I couldn’t help letting my eyes wander down to those lips and feel a sense of wonderment that they’d been on mine only seconds ago. It was amazing how a few minutes of conversation and maybe a few too many sips of alcohol could change things.

“No. You’re right. This isn’t a good idea.”

“So no codirector lessons for tonight, I take it?”

“Not until your slutty grandma is out of my system. No. Thank you for tonight, Rich.”