Awkward.

by Lily Kate

  “Allie...” He leans in, his lips a breath from mine. “You said you didn’t want me to touch you here again.” Jack runs his thumb along the same sensitive spot, sending flutters through my stomach. “Did you mean it?”

  I don’t pull away. I gasp as the spray of water sprinkles onto my shoulders, but I’m still not cold. My body is burning up, soaking in the heat from Jack, despite the goose bumps covering my chest. My hands reach for his shirt, tearing open the top buttons so my fingers can play across his chest.

  He watches, tense, as I inch my hands to the back of his neck, clasping there, the shoes dangling from my fingertips.

  “I asked you a question,” Jack says, and this time, the words are gritted out. “Did you mean it?”

  “No.” It’s no more than a breath, but it sends a message.

  His hand snakes behind my head, and tugs out the binder holding my bun in place. My hair falls free, salty and mussed, as his fingers rope through my locks and press me to him.

  I don’t know if it’s the fuzzy wine blanket I’m wearing, or the fact that Jack Darcy just went all Rambo hero to save my shoes. Maybe it’s the fact that his body feels like magic under my fingers—all muscular and strong and gorgeous. It could be the fact that he’s holding me, possessive, as if I’m the only thing he’ll never let go of in this world. Whatever it is, when my lips meet his, it’s a slow burn, a cautious tale that turns into a fury the second his tongue slips past my lips.

  He explores with a newfound determination, his hands gripping and grasping as he tastes. I can feel his arousal pressed against me, and in that moment, I’m convinced that Jack Darcy is the bomb at sex. I’ve never been more turned on in my life, and I’m in the middle of the frigid ocean at midnight, sopping wet and almost fully dressed.

  Jack moans and my insides alight with desire. The cold outside hisses against the burning lava in my veins, and I sink into the kiss as a wave splashes across our shoulders.

  The water pummels us, battles us back, and still Jack holds me tighter. I move against him in return. My nails dig into his back, but I can’t find a gentler way to hold him. It’s as if this passion has been simmering, boiling, bubbling over and erupting now in this kiss.

  “You taste amazing,” Jack murmurs. “I love kissing you.”

  “For the record,” I say, sucking in a deep breath. “You don’t suck at kissing.”

  “Thank God.”

  “But hell, you need more practice.”

  “I think so, too,” he says. “Can I—”

  “Just shut up, Jack, and kiss me again.”

  He does as I instruct. Suddenly, I can’t tell where my breathing ends and his begins. I dive back into his lips and soak it up; this is probably the last chance I’ll have to kiss Jack Darcy, and I want to remember every taste of him.

  When he lowers me onto him, his erection pressing at my entrance, only a thin layer of lace between us aside from his pants, I groan and fall into him. His hand loops through my hair and pulls it back. My neck is exposed, and he leans in, tastes it, dripping kisses down to my collarbone as I lean back and press deeper into him.

  I have half a mind to tell him I’m on birth control. We could get this out of our systems right now, judging by how much we want one another, but just as I’m about to say this, a wave rips over us and drags us under water.

  Jack’s mouth leaves mine, and the absence is sheer pain. I need more of him, so I clutch at him, his shirt ripping as the undertow flips us around. Never once, even for a second, do his hands leave me.

  Then we press through the surface again, and Jack’s got a shit-eating grin on his face. “This is a freaking disaster.”

  “I guess I love disaster.”

  “Me too,” he murmurs, leaning in for another kiss.

  It’s in this moment, however, that a follow up crash of water swipes my shoes from my hands. I cry out and immediately regret it. I did pay full price for the shoes, but at this point, I’d rather have Jack.

  He, however, does the noble thing and dives after my shoes.

  By the time he resurfaces, I’ve waded my way to the shore, feeling like a sopping, sheepish puppy, as I wring my dress out. My hair is probably straggly around my face, and the cold has finally set in.

  “Your shoes, Cinderella,” Jack says, extending a hand with both heels dangling from his fingers. “Sorry about that.”

  “You didn’t have to—”

  “Worth every second,” he says. He leans in, as if to kiss me once more, but instead he kneels, and eases first one shoe into place, and then the other. “Can I take you home, princess?”

  He extends an arm and, despite the pit in my stomach, I loop mine through his. I wish our moment together had never ended. I would’ve turned into a popsicle rather than be dragged apart from Jack Darcy, but alas, reality has returned.

  “Of course,” I tell him. “Thank you, Prince Charming.”

  Chapter 17

  JACK

  “Hang on. This is the route to your home,” Allie says, squinting as I exit the highway a few miles from my condo. “Not mine.”

  “And?”

  “And you asked if you could bring me home. You’re not bringing me home. You’re bringing me to your home.”

  “Does it matter? I thought that was implied.”

  “Uh, yeah, it matters, seeing how I’m not all that sure that I ever agreed to come back to your place. What did I agree to, anyway?”

  I’m not sure, which is why I choose silence as an answer. Back on the beach when I’d asked Allie to come home with me, I’d been filled with the most intense need for her, something so strong I’d never imagined it could exist in this lifetime.

  I’d do just about anything to have her, to make her mine, including an ocean-floor rescue for a pair of shoes that I could’ve just bought the next day for her. However, Allie doesn’t ask me for much, so when she’d asked for the shoes back, a part of me had liked it. Liked that she leaned on me, asked me for help, and yes, the look in her eyes when I’d succeeded at the mission hadn’t hurt either. In fact, it’s one look I need to see again.

  “You always stay over at my place,” I tell her, shifting in the driver’s seat. “Your car is parked at my condo, and you’re not driving home tonight.”

  She frowns, the logic not lost on her, and I’m proud of my brain for coming up with that one on a moment’s notice. I don’t give a rat’s ass where the car is—I could’ve dropped her at home and figured that out later, but the truth is that I’m not ready to let Allie swing away from me. I want her body back in my arms, my hands on her waist, and my lips taking hers. Nothing less will satiate me.

  As for the disaster date? I’ve already forgotten about it. Only the lightly stained, now soggy shirt, is a remnant from the evening. Normally, I’d have ruminated over the whole thing, dissected every second to understand what I’d done wrong. I couldn’t have, wouldn’t have...moved on. Not like this.

  That is the power of Allie Jenkins. That’s why she’s my best friend. There’s only one person in the world who can make me forget the stresses of my career, the life and death choices that weigh on my mind at all waking hours.

  “This wasn’t a date,” Allie clarifies while I’m still muddling around in my thoughts. “And if I’m staying at your place, I insist on taking the couch.”

  “You always insist on taking the couch.”

  “Yeah, well, I mean it this time.”

  “You meant it last time, too.” I give her a smile, taking an extended moment to watch her out of the corner of my eye. “Take the bed.”

  She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, hands down. Her cheeks are flushed pink from the aftershocks of wine, and her hair is curled and springy from the ocean. She smells a bit like salt, and I have the desire to run my lips along her pale neck, tasting her like a margarita—or something more romantic.

  I realize a few seconds later that Allie’s still talking. She’s come up with some long-winded argument about why sh
e should sleep on the couch, and I should take the bed, and I don’t bother to pay much attention.

  “Sure.” I eventually agree, though it doesn’t matter all that much to me; she’ll fall asleep first, on the couch, and I’ll move her to the bed. “Whatever you say.”

  “Did you just agree with me?”

  “Sure,” I say again. “You take the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

  She frowns, contemplates my offer. “Jack!”

  “I’m kidding. Whatever makes you comfortable. You’re not driving home tonight, and your car is at my place. That’s why I invited you back. Nothing more.”

  I glance over to see if there’s even the slightest whiff of disappointment at this confession. It’s not the truth. The truth is that I invited her back on the impulse that maybe, we could be more. That maybe, there was chemistry between us that neither of us have felt before.

  Her brow furrows slightly, but then she blinks and that’s it. It’s gone, any worry or doubt that might’ve been there. The piece of me that wishes for more has been put back in its place once again.

  “So,” I say. “How would you rate that kiss?”

  Her face colors red out of the corner of my eye, but she does a fine job of fighting away the embarrassed flush and gritting out a smile. “I’d say you’re better than average, Darcy.”

  “Better than average? I don’t settle for better than average. I don’t stop until I’m the best.”

  She crosses her arms and sits back in her seat. She doesn’t appear to have a comeback this time.

  “If you feel like practicing—”

  “Jack...” There’s a warning glint to her tone.

  “I’m kidding,” I say, though it hurts me some to admit it. “Don’t make things awkward, Allie.”

  “You already made things awkward.”

  “I was just rescuing your sandals. I think it was you who was so overcome with relief and gratitude at their safe return you had to attack their rescuer.”

  “I didn’t attack you, and more importantly, they’re not sandals!”

  I bite back a smile. “Then what would you call it if not attacking?”

  “You’re the one who...I don’t know what you did to me.”

  “What did I do to you?” When she glares at me, I shrug and offer a polite smile. “You told me I’m supposed to learn from these dates. If I don’t get feedback, I won’t improve. What’d you like about the beach?”

  She’s taken to staring down each and every passing car with such a violent expression the other drivers look a bit frightened when they pass us.

  “Forget it, Jack.”

  “Allie—”

  “Forget it.”

  I go silent and pull into the parking spot designated for Jack Darcy underneath my condo. I had to add it on when I got the car this week, since my motorcycle sits in a spot next to the other bikes. I figured it wasn’t very manly to go out with a woman and have to borrow her car, so I took care of it.

  I slide out of the car and move to open Allie’s door, but she hurriedly scrambles out first and slams it shut. She storms to the elevator and pounds her finger on the call button. When it arrives, she stomps inside and hits the button for the top floor without waiting for me to step through.

  “I’m sorry if I said something wrong,” I say. “Can we forget about it? I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “You didn’t upset me, Jack.” When she finally speaks, it’s soft, a little subdued. Completely unlike the Allie I know and love. “It’s not your fault. Let’s forget it.”

  With that, we wait in silence for the elevator to reach my place. Out of the corner of my eye, I survey her wispy hair, her clingy dress, each and every generous curve on display. It’s not that I haven’t appreciated her figure before, but in this small space, after finally having her in my arms and feeling her move against me, I can’t help it. I lose my breath.

  “Jack, are you okay?”

  “You are so gorgeous,” I breathe. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t say that, but... Theo is an idiot.”

  Her eyebrows crease, and I debate another apology. If she doesn’t head home after all this, I’ll be surprised.

  Luckily, she surprises me. Instead of pushing her away, my admission seems to have softened her. We’re already so close, the elevator constricting despite the now-open door. We can’t seem to move, to breathe, to break the line of sight that connects us.

  Then, Allie’s hand reaches for the back of my head and pulls me close, her lips connecting fiercely with mine as she inhales me. This time when she kisses me, it’s as if I’m the air she breathes. As if this moment is all she needs, this connection a craving that isn’t yet satiated.

  I’m perfectly fine with satiating her craving. Better yet, I’d prefer if she’d never be satiated of me, and I could hold her forever, make her mine, have her for eternity. I’m desperate for her, cherishing every moment and relishing every touch. I have no idea how long this, us, will last, so I brand every moment into my memory for some later date.

  My hands find her bottom again, and I lose control of my mental capacity. I grip her hard, lifting her as she wraps her legs around my waist. Her arms hold my neck so tightly I couldn’t pull away even if I wanted to, and we crash against the back wall of the elevator.

  “You’re not...” she gasps against my lips. “A bad kisser, Jack Darcy.”

  Little hitches in her breathing send me into overdrive. I’m more needy for her than I’ve been for anyone in my entire life. In theory, it’d be a horrible idea to sleep together. Allie had wine, she’s sort of my instructor for all things romance, and above all, we’re friends.

  None of that helps.

  “You’re a good teacher,” I say, nuzzling her neck as I press her hard against the wall. “And you feel incredible.”

  At this Allie arches toward me, her hips rocking against mine with such vigor that I lose my balance and take a step backward. I manage to spin, and catch the pair of us before we crash against another wall.

  The door begins to close, and I somehow thumb for the Door Open button before propelling us both through it. Once in the hallway, I stumble toward the door with Allie still wrapped around me, her eyes closed as she drags lips of fire across my neck.

  I fumble through the lock on the door, eventually succeeding and kicking the door shut behind me. It slams loud enough to wake the entire building, but neither of us care.

  “The couch,” Allie gasps. “Closer than...” She pauses, her fingers grasping my tie as she yanks my head toward her. “The bed.”

  I’m too afraid of speaking, too afraid of agreeing aloud in case it somehow ruins the mood, jolting us both back to reality. This is my fantasy come to life, and I do not want to wake from this dream.

  Cradling her against me, I ease us both onto the couch and pull her onto my lap. Somehow, in the mix of the moment, Allie adjusts, wiggles me underneath her and climbs on top so she’s straddling me.

  My mind is blown. After months of no sex, having the woman of my dreams perching over me is a near miracle, and I’d say that my feelings of desire are an understatement. I’m coming apart at the seams with need for her.

  “Allie—” I feel the need to warn her. To let her know that once things go further, it will be increasingly difficult to go back.

  I don’t ever want to go back, but if she doesn’t want this, I will stop. As painful as it might be, I will walk away to save her as a friend. I will not throw away a lifetime for one night.

  Her lips, however, cut me off mid-sentence, and let’s face it...I’m an adult male. There’s no way I have the self-control to stop her from taking the lead and dragging me right along with her. There’s a fire in her eyes, a wildness fueled not by wine, not by desperation, but with the same emotions running rampant in my own veins.

  A frenzy, a buildup of a lifetime of teasing and trust. A hint of love, the sort of love that exists between friends, brings us deeper together, pulls us under the surface of this ocean and drags us
through the swirling waters of whatever tonight means. Tonight, it seems, is about the need to connect, to let go of the rules, to let nature take its course.

  Then, she pulls away ever-so-slowly. Allie raises her hips, watching me with unbridled passion as we separate. She’s perched over me, our gaze unbroken, her hands digging into my shoulders so deeply I can feel each and every one of her nails.

  The moment is suspended between us, frozen in time, this tipping point that will be nearly impossible to return from if she chooses to move us forward. I’m ready, and I wait for her signal to continue.

  It comes in the form of a small smile, the slightest tilt of her head. With that simple movement, she bites her lip and propels us into the throes of what we both seem to need.

  Her body eases back onto mine, and my fingers find her hips, locking there so tightly I fear she’ll bruise. But she presses me to hold her tighter, resting her hands over mine and showing me what she likes. Once I have her in my arms so tight I’ll never let go, she returns her arms to my shoulders and her lips to mine, and she moves against me.

  She grinds against me and, despite the barrier of our clothing, she has pushed me closer to climaxing than I’d like to admit. I still have my pants on, and I’m about ready to combust. This has never happened before.

  “I need you, Allie,” I grit out. It’s an animal-like growl, and I’m not proud that I sound like a bear coming out of hibernation, but it’s all the motor skills I have at this point. “I need to touch you.”

  In a soundless answer, she throws her head back and raises her hips to me. She whispers a please, and it about sends me over the top.

  Her words, her movement, the way she needs this as much as I do is the sexiest thing of all. I run my finger along the edges of her panties, stroke the barely-there lace fabric, and tease a cry from her lips that has me ready to take her now.