Henley’s cheeks are flushed, the scattering of freckles on her face highlighted by the rosy effect of alcohol and the buzz my touch offers her.
Her tits push against my chest, the hard cut of her nipples visible through the silk line of her dress.
I watch the way her eyes remain fixated on my lips. The flare of desire and regret swirling into something dangerous.
“We can’t.” Her tongue darts out to touch my top lip, and I swallow down the growl rumbling in my throat.
“We could,” I counter. “We just likely shouldn’t.”
She tastes like champagne when her lips close the distance between us. The sweet tease of bubbles that, when paired with Henley, sends me to insanity.
Our kiss isn’t rushed. It’s not panicked, but it’s in no way delicate either. It’s dripping with lust, overruled by an overwhelming need to consume.
The soft roll of her tongue hits deep in my mouth, and I groan.
She pulls back. “We should stop,” she says as she reaches up, her teeth biting into my bottom lip and pulling on it painfully.
A rumble echoes from my throat.
“Today isn’t ours.” I let her tongue lick along the seam of my lips.
She’s right. Of course. But today never seems to be ours.
Not at seventeen.
Not at nineteen.
Not at twenty-two.
And not now.
Life has pushed us apart for years. And the sad reality is, it’ll do it again.
“Tomorrow might be,” she whimpers, the hope in her voice a serrated knife in my gut.
“Tomorrow in the future. Later,” I push, trying to make her understand.
I caress her lips. “So when all of this.” I kiss her again. “Settles inside you, keep loving me, okay? Don’t let yourself hate me for hating what we’ve done.”
Tears shine in her eyes, and she nods. “I could never hate you.”
“You’ll hate me by hating yourself.”
Her chin wobbles.
“Before I kiss you, Henley, really kiss you, promise me. Vow that you won’t hate me.”
“For keeps.” She closes her eyes, letting her tears fall.
“For always.”
I don’t waste another second. Hands bracketing her jaw, I pull her mouth up to mine.
She opens up to me like a flower in full fucking bloom.
She tastes like the rain and the sun.
She tastes like the wind in our faces and second chances.
She tastes like home.
My home.
The truth is, I’d give up everything if she only asked me to. I’d give up my hopes, my dreams, my aspirations. I’d let it all go for her.
But she hasn’t asked. And she likely never will.
Hands wrapped in the lapels of my jacket, she pulls me more heavily into her mouth. Needing more.
Our lips fit like they’re two halves of a whole. Carved to fit only one another.
Her tongue is warm. It’s soft but insistent as it rolls against mine with needy whimpers and impatient moans.
My feet move of their own accord, pushing her against the wall on a strangled groan. Hands at her hips, I pull at the silk of her dress, needing to touch of her skin. Needing to feel it in my palms. Grabbing the supple flesh of her ass, I squeeze.
Her lips break away from mine on a stuttered breath, and I chase her lips back down, l refusing to part.
She’s a feather in my hands, and I lift her without the slightest exertion. Fitting her against the thick line of my cock—now pushed aggressively against my pants—I crowd her again, thrusting myself against the damp scrap of material between her thighs.
“Oh, God.”
Our mouths inch apart, our eyes catching in a more intimate way.
Confident my hands have her, she opens the small bag between us, pulling a condom from the purse before dropping the bag to the ground.
I don’t let myself think about the fact that the small foil packet between us was likely intended for Alex. I refuse to let my mind go there. Instead, I step us to the side, reaching out to hit the emergency stop button.
As she drags the packet against my lips, Henley’s eyes don’t falter from my mouth. I catch the packet with my teeth, and she pulls at it.
I spit out the foil left in my mouth, and she pulls the rubber from the small square, letting the empty packet fall to the ground.
I don’t move my eyes from her face as her hands begin tugging at my belt, unbuckling it to free my top button. Her teeth catch her bottom lip as she pulls at my zipper, and my breathing comes on quicker.
She doesn’t hesitate in pulling out my straining cock, rolling her thumb over the crown, making me jerk against her hand. A small smirk pulls at the corner of her lips, her teeth releasing it from capture.
Sliding the condom over my length, I finally pull my gaze from her face, watching as her middle finger pulls at the lace covering her pussy. I growl as she comes into view, her bare lips glistening with the anticipation of what we’re about to share.
Head to her entrance, she glances up at me through her lashes, and I let her sink onto me slowly.
Her eyes close in pained pleasure, the intrusion of my cock filling her completely.
“Deep,” she whispers, her hand coming up, her fingers dragging across my lips.
I suck them into my mouth, and she whimpers.
Her legs aren’t wrapped around my waist. She lets them hang loosely over my forearms. Sliding my arms outward, I open her wider, and she falls heavier on my cock.
“Jesus,” she breathes.
I roll my hips in an upward thrust, refusing to look away from her face.
I need to catalog every blink of pleasure, taste every shocked exhale.
I don’t just want to fuck my best friend.
I want to fucking consume her.
I want every breath of pleasure, knowing it belongs to me.
“Brooks,” she pleads.
“Henley,” I answer with two quick thrusts of my hips.
“Brooks,” she cries. “More.”
I’m so torn.
I want to taste her.
I want to fuck her so hard that when she moans from this moment on, it’s my name that breaks
