International Player(27)

“You taste so good.” His low timbre rumbled through my entire body as his lips left mine and he finally released my face.

I pressed my palm to his chest. I needed some room to breathe, time, space. I had to think. That wasn’t an almost-kiss. It had actually happened this time. And it had been . . .

“We shouldn’t,” I said. I knew how deep my feelings for him had run, how long it had taken to get over him. I didn’t want to open myself up again.

He picked up his shot glass and took another sip, this one bigger than the others. The glass was nearly empty.

“You’re so beautiful, Truly,” he said. “And I really like spending time with you.” His hand dipped under my hair to the back of my neck, his thumb tracing the outline of my jaw.

How was this so easy for him? Was it because it was nothing? Was this what he was like with other women?

I didn’t want to be just one of those girls who floated into his world for a few months and then disappeared. He meant too much.

“Noah?” I said.

“You want to leave?” he asked, a flash of disappointment crossing his face.

“No,” I said, trying to slow everything down and regain control. But he leaned forward and kissed me, more urgently this time. The sweep of his tongue, the press of his fingers—it was all just more than before. Intense, passionate, powerful.

I pulled away. “But that’s the problem, Noah. What are we doing?”

As if my words pierced his skin, his brow furrowed. “Kissing, Truly.”

“But why?” None of this made sense. Was he just drunk or horny? I just didn’t understand how we were here. Kissing.

He exhaled, his eyes shutting in a long blink. “I just can’t not.”

I sighed, and he brought his forehead to mine. “You’re so beautiful, so kind and good . . . Do you not want me to kiss you?”

I slid my hands over his and tilted my head up. It was what I’d wanted since I’d met him.

He pressed his lips against mine again and the question faded into the background. All I could think about was how his body felt, how his skin was as smooth as I’d always imagined, and how he smelled—like lemons and the beach.

His tongue grew more insistent, and he twined his fingers into my hair. How was it possible that this beautiful man wanted to kiss me?

No matter how hard I tried, there was no way I could ever resist him.

The music changed from sultry to upbeat, and I melted further into his kiss.

Noah was the only man I’d ever wanted to see me as sexy, but all these years had gone by where we’d just been friends. What had changed? The hunger in Noah’s eyes, the way he looked like he wanted to devour me, could almost make me believe that he wanted me. Almost.

He dipped the tip of his finger into his glass, then painted the alcohol across my lips before ghosting his tongue along the same path.

“I never knew drinking tequila could be this sexy,” I said, copying him by coating my index finger in my drink and sweeping it across his lips. I paused for a second, and he leaned toward me, encouraging me, inviting me. I couldn’t help myself; I leaned forward and licked him clean.

He groaned and caught my tongue with his, pressing and pushing, taking and giving. My breathing came out ragged and uneven, and heat rose between my thighs. How could a public kiss be this hot? What was I doing, giving in to the kisses of a man who could only ever hurt me?

Playing with fire.

Setting myself up for a fall.

Opening my heart to someone I knew couldn’t give me what I needed.

But I didn’t care. Not right then. It was just kissing. It was just tonight.





Fourteen





Noah


We had only kissed last night but it felt like more. As I sat facing the changing rooms at the office of the stylist, a tray of champagne on the table in front of me, it still felt like more.

Despite resolving to keep things about the foundation, last night something had snapped within me. Seeing her up on that stage, it was as if her devotion to all the good causes, her commitment, her desire to do right by so many people had all reached a crescendo. Seeing her on stage, giving a speech, dressed in an evening gown that left me speechless and unable to take my eyes off her, I was proud, overcome—defeated.

I’d wanted her.

And then her heat, the way she tasted and softened last night under my touch? It was passion and purity all wrapped up in one.

I should have held back, but I’d selfishly taken what I wanted without a thought for the consequences. I’d almost done the same just before I left for New York. But this time was different. There were even more reasons I should have held back. This time I wasn’t going anywhere. We were friends, our lives entangled, and that made things complicated.

“There’s no way,” Truly mumbled through the door to the changing room.

“Come out and let me see,” I called. “You’re hungover. You’re in no place to judge.”

The girl still couldn’t drink, which was why last night had stopped at kissing.

I grinned as I remembered carrying Truly up the stairs to her flat. She’d insisted she could sleep in the bar. In the Range Rover. Or on the pavement—wherever it was that we were on route back to her place.

“Shall I come in?” asked Natalie, the stylist Veronica had set me up with.