Crash Into Me

other.”

“So?”

“So, you should kiss me.”

Her stomach fluttered. “Kiss you?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s your only condition?”

He appeared to consider adding a few more, but was smart enough not to push his luck.

“All right, then.” She leaned in to place a very sweet, very chaste kiss on his lips.

When she pulled back, his eyes were strange, as if her innocent touch had disturbed him deeply. “I meant a real kiss,” he said, clearing his throat.

“Oh.” Feeling self-conscious, she moistened her lips, leaned in some more, and waited.

Nothing happened.

When she opened her eyes, he had the gall to laugh.

“You’re not doing this right,” she complained.

“Neither are you.”

She bristled. “I’ve kissed boys before.”

“I know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw you at Lisette’s thirteenth birthday party,” he said. “We played seven minutes in heaven. You went in the closet with Mark Mahalo.”

She smiled at the memory. “Who did you go in with?”

He shrugged, throwing away a shard of driftwood he’d sifted from the sand. “I was in ninth grade then, too old for a junior high school gig, but I went anyway, because I didn’t get invited to any other rich girl parties. That same year, my dad would send me to buy him a pack of cigarettes every night. If he let me keep the change, I’d make about twenty-five cents a trip, and it took me a whole year to save ten dollars.” His gaze reconnected with hers. “I would’ve given every penny to go into that closet with you.”

The blunt admission was almost beyond Carly’s comprehension. She’d spent a thousand dollars in one afternoon, easily. Ten dollars was nothing to her. A tip for her hairdresser. But from the look on his face, she knew he was sincere, and his intensity excited her. “Now’s your chance,” she breathed, putting her mouth up to his again.

He leaned back. “This isn’t Lisette Bruebaker’s closet.”

She didn’t understand his hesitation. “You don’t want to kiss me anymore?”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to go at it like thirteen-year-olds.”

“Is that what I’m doing?”

“Yes.”

She retreated, hugely offended. “Fuck off, then. You’re the one that wanted to do this.” She stood, preparing to walk away in a huff.

Laughing again, he pulled her back down to sit by him. “And you’re the one who needs a fake boyfriend. Do you want me to help you out or not?”

“Not.”

“Fine,” he said, calling her bluff. “Have a nice life.”

Her mouth made a thin, determined line. “What do you want me to do?”

James couldn’t believe she was naive enough to let him dictate the particulars of their kiss. His heart started pounding with excitement, but he tried to play it cool. “First of all, you have to get closer,” he suggested, glad he’d taken the time to clean up a little before coming out to look for her. “You’re going to hurt yourself, craning your neck like that.”

Determined to prove herself, she crawled into his lap, put her arms around his neck, and pressed her breasts against his chest. “How’s this?”

“Better,” he said, gritting his teeth. “But you don’t want a guy to think you’re easy.” He put his hands on her hips and scooted her back a few inches, out of the danger zone, so she couldn’t feel just how affected he was by her proximity.

At his neck, she clenched her hands into fists.

“Simmer down, rich girl. I’m just telling it like it is.”

“Now what?” she growled.

“Now relax. You’re all tense.”

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. The movement caused her breasts to brush up against his chest again, and he almost groaned aloud. To cover, he cleared his throat and continued the lesson. “You have to work up to it. Maybe you could, uh, kiss my neck.”

Concentrating on the task, as if he were a Chemistry test that she wanted to ace, she bent her head to him and licked his skin, just above the collar of his T-shirt. “You taste salty,” she murmured. Her warm breath caressed his neck, cooling the wet mark her mouth had made.

He couldn’t hold back a low moan.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing. You’re doing well.” Too well. “I think we can move on.”

She closed her eyes and put her lips on his. Again, he didn’t take over for her. “Open your mouth,” she said, blinking up at him.

“Make me. Use a little finesse.”

She frowned in confusion, and he had to smother a laugh. He was pleased by her lack of experience, and not above taking advantage of it thoroughly. “Like this.” Very slowly, he traced the fullness of her lower lip with his tongue. When she sighed in delighted understanding, he pulled back. “See?”

“Uh-huh.” She stared intently at his mouth. “Let me try.”

She mimicked his actions so skillfully it required a monumental effort to keep his hands where they were at her waist. In seconds, she’d eclipsed his meager talent. Needing no further instruction, she slipped her tongue into his mouth and threaded her fingers through his hair.

He leaned back and let her have her way with him, forgetting that he’d orchestrated this scene and abandoning his earlier resolve to keep her away from the danger zone. When she deepened the kiss, wriggling in his lap, he couldn’t stop himself from cupping her cute little ass and drawing her closer, letting her feel what she was doing to him.

She gasped against his mouth then melted against him, acquiescing. In the blink of an eye, he was stretched out on top of her, kissing her like a madman and giving his hands free reign over her lithe body.

He must have been too rough, because when he slid his hand beneath her sweatshirt, she cried out.

James froze. “Sorry,” he said, rolling off her. He’d never meant to take it this far. “Carly-God, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

She sat up, running a hand through her disheveled hair. “Of course I’m okay. Sorry for what?”

His mouth dropped open. “For losing control, I guess. Hurting you.”

“You didn’t hurt me.”

“I didn’t? You made a noise.”

She blushed. “It wasn’t that kind of noise.”

“Oh.” He groaned in understanding, and pain. “I don’t think this boyfriend-girlfriend thing is going to work out.”

“Why not?” She stood, shaking sand from her clothes.

Because I can’t trust myself around you, he wanted to shout. Instead, he walked down the beach a few steps and shoved his shaking hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

“Come over tomorrow, for dinner. Around six.”

Pretending to be Carly’s boyfriend in front of her dad didn’t hold the same appeal as making out with her on the sand. And if his dad found out…

“You can’t back out,” she warned. “You’ve already collected your fee. And if everything goes well, maybe I’ll let you kiss me again.”

With that, she flashed him a grin and took off, sprinting down the beach, her hair wild and loose down her back.