“Safe is boring.”
I don’t give her a chance to protest. I slide a hand around the back of her neck, relishing the pleasure of skin-to-skin contact—hers smooth and silky, mine rough and calloused—before I tangle my fingers in her hair and pull her close, stopping when our lips are a breath apart. I shouldn’t be doing this. We shouldn’t be doing this. But she doesn’t pull away, just keeps those big brown eyes fixed on mine, and it’s so fucking hot I know safe is the last thing she wants, even if she’ll never admit it.
Just one kiss. One taste of the forbidden fruit.
We’ll get it out of our systems and move on.
The air is practically humming with electricity as I bring my other hand up to cup her cheek. I close the gap between us, brushing my lips against hers. I expect the kiss to be slow and gentle, but when she parts her lips, a small sigh escapes, and my control slips. The kiss explodes like wildfire, a desperate mating of tongues and desire as her lips incinerate the last of my restraint.
Carter’s mouth is soft and welcoming and every nerve in my body is screaming for more. I don’t know how long we go on like that, mouths searching for sweet salvation. It could be minutes; it could be hours. But when she finally pulls away, her lips red, swollen, and thoroughly kissed, reality comes roaring back into focus and I know I’m fucked.
One taste of Carter will never be enough.
Kennedy
“Rise and shine.” The insistent whisper-hiss is followed by a not-so-gentle shake. I give a tug on the comforter and bat aimlessly at the hand clutching my shoulder. It’s my only day to sleep in. I am so not getting out of this bed. “What is Austin Reid doing on our couch?”
Shit.
Panic slams through me as I try to think of a good explanation. Truth is, there’s no good explanation for making out with Reid on the couch, so I stall, taking the time to wipe the sleep from my eyes. Part of me had hoped he’d just sort of shuffle out in the morning and we could avoid this whole awkward morning-after disaster.
Clearly that was wishful thinking.
Becca’s watching me expectantly, a devious grin on her face as she waits for details.
Best to stick with the truth.
Just maybe not the whole truth.
Yes, I’m a hypocrite. But it was a onetime thing. No repeat performances. And definitely no post-kiss obsessing with my bestie.
When I finally meet her eyes, Becca’s practically vibrating with excitement. “I can’t believe Austin Reid is on our couch. God, he’s so hot. Even when he’s sleeping. Wait. Did you hook up with him last night? Please tell me you hooked up with him. Was it amazing?”
As a matter of fact, it was. The guy damn near set my panties on fire—with just his mouth—and it was all I could do not to rip his shirt off and lick each and every one of those perfectly sculpted muscles. But I can’t say that, so I stuff the guilt down deep and gesture to my fully clothed self, then at the empty bed. “Does it look like we hooked up?”
Not exactly a lie, but not the whole truth either.
“I knew it was too much to hope for.” Becca sighs dramatically and inches back toward the door, sneaking a peek down the hall. I’m not sure if she’s checking to make sure he’s still asleep or if she’s just plain old checking him out. I bite the inside of my cheek. Probably the latter. “Only you could have that sexy man beast over and not make a move. So, what’s he doing here then?”
I climb out of bed and grab a sweater off the back of my desk chair. Reid’s not getting another free pass to the peep show. Even if he is the world’s best kisser. No wonder the women on campus are lining up for a taste. Just the memory of his lips on mine brings a rush of heat to my cheeks.
I turn from Becca, hoping she won’t notice my telltale blush. “He stopped over last night. We watched some TV and he fell asleep. No biggie.”
“He just stopped over on Saturday night to watch some TV?”
Okay. I totally get why she sounds skeptical. It does seem unlikely given he’s one of the hottest guys at Waverly. Toss in my aversion to football players, and my story’s like a house of cards.
“And then y’all decided to have a sleepover?” she asks, pointing from me to the general direction of the living room. The smirk on her face says she’s not buying.
I shrug and wrap my sweater around my body, making sure there’s no nip action. “I got up to use the bathroom and when I came back, he was asleep. Maybe he passed out.”
Even as the words leave my mouth, I know they’re bullshit. Reid wasn’t drunk. And I may have been in the bathroom longer than I thought, having a mini-meltdown, because, seriously, what was I thinking letting him kiss me?
Or, okay—real talk—kissing him back?
“I cannot believe Austin freaking Reid is sleeping on our couch!” Becca’s squealing now and if I don’t calm her down, she’s going to wake him up. Which would probably be fine except for the part where we sound like crazy fangirls. Or fangirl, I guess, since it’s just Becca.
Whatever. I just need her to bring it down a notch.
“Shh! He’s going to hear you,” I whisper-yell. “And you cannot tell anyone about this. They’ll get the wrong idea and I do not need that kind of drama. The media is already a circus and Coach will kick me off the team
