Speed Dating (Preston's Mill Book 2)

by Noelle Adams

“What are we going to do?” Her voice wobbled slightly because the idea of pulling back from Jace was absolutely heartbreaking.

  He sighed and stroked her hair again. “We’ll figure it out.”

  “I don’t want to lose you.”

  “You’re not going to lose me. This, I promise you.”

  She relaxed and snuggled against his warm body, pulling the blanket back up to her shoulders. She believed Jace. It sounded like he meant it.

  He was smart. If both of them were committed to this friendship, then they would be able to work things out, even if one or both of them started a romantic relationship.

  Things would be okay.

  They had to be.

  Her world wouldn’t be right unless Jace was in it.

  Jace settled on a cable channel that ran old sitcoms, and they watched them for a while.

  Eventually, Isabella’s eyes grew heavy. She knew it was time for her to go home. She couldn’t sleep on the couch like this with Jace.

  But she didn’t want to move. She didn’t want to pull away from him.

  So she stayed wrapped up in his arm, in the blanket, until she finally drifted off to sleep.

  Six

  Jace woke up, but he was sure he was dreaming.

  Isabella was in his arms.

  The last thing he remembered was them watching the TV with Isabella snuggling up beside him. Now they were lying down, a tangle of arms and legs and covered in a blanket.

  It was amazing.

  Doing his best to not wake her, he let himself indulge in the fantasy. Gently, one hand skimmed up her back and then into her hair while the other held her securely against him. With her head on his shoulder, he inhaled the florally scent of her shampoo before placing a light kiss on the top of her head.

  A small groan escaped before he could help it.

  This was torture.

  Staring up at the ceiling, Jace mentally cursed himself. He had known that Isabella was falling asleep—knew there was a good chance of her not being able to drive home—and he hadn’t done a thing about it. Now, here he was, stuck in the most delicious form of hell, and it was all his own doing.

  Idiot.

  So what was he supposed to do? There was a good chance she’d be pissed when she woke up. Not that he’d done anything inappropriate—they were both fully clothed—but he couldn’t help but worry that she would be upset with him for letting her fall asleep on his couch.

  Okay, she’d done that a time or two in the past, but never for the whole night. So maybe rather than being upset, she’d be embarrassed that she’d done it. That he could work with. He could play it off like it wasn’t any big deal and then move on.

  Damn, but he was tired of moving on. Mainly because he wasn’t. He was torturing himself because he was too afraid to do anything to rock the boat of this friendship. Something was going to have to give—soon—and he had a feeling this could be point of no return. It all depended on how Isabella reacted when she woke up in his arms.

  He was making himself crazy with this inner conflict. So rather than continuing with speculating, Jace opted to return to the facts. Fact: they were best friends and had been for years. Fact: there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her. Fact: he felt closer to her now more than ever—and not just because of their current position on the couch, but also because she was coming to him to share her thoughts and dreams on an almost daily basis.

  It just sucked that those hopes and dreams related to the date she’d just been on.

  Other men aside, it still had to mean something that after every date, she came to him. It could mean that she was willingly torturing him, but he quickly pushed that thought aside. Isabella didn’t have a mean bone in her body, and she had no idea how her dating other guys was killing him. This whole dating experiment was important to her, and he was the one she kept sharing it with. Why? Because he meant something to her.

  Now if only she would allow him to be more than a buddy, a pal, a…confidant.

  Confidant wouldn’t be bad—he could live with that—if it meant they were exclusive and romantically involved.

  He groaned. God, he was sounding pathetic even inside his own head! What was it going to take to get him to…

  Beside him, Isabella stretched and let out a very sexy sounding moan.

  And if he wasn’t already turned on, that little sound definitely would have done it.

  He only prayed that she wasn’t aware of just how turned on he was. Although, with her thigh precariously close to his straining erection, it was only a matter of time.

  Great.

  “Mmm, Jace.” She sighed, and everything in him went still. Was she saying his name because she had opened her eyes and saw him, or was she sighing his name because she was dreaming about him? Too afraid to move or speak, he waited. Isabella shifted against him, her knee gently nudging his arousal, and he almost bucked right off the couch. “Jace?” she asked sleepily.

  He prayed his voice didn’t crack like a hormonal teenage boy. “Hey, sleeping beauty,” he said softly, thankful for how calm he actually sounded.

  Isabella lifted her head and blinked at him, her eyes still heavy from sleep. “What… what time is it?”

  Jace looked over at the wall clock and then back at her. “A little after six.”

  A soft gasp was her first response.

  Then a loud yawn.

  “Sorry.” She relaxed against him. “I can’t believe I fell asleep.” Then she chuckled.

  “What? What’s so funny?” he asked softly.

  She chuckled again. “I can’t believe I fell asleep and kept you pinned on the couch so you couldn’t go to bed.”

  Okay. He could work with that.

  Hugging her closer, he said, “Well, it wasn’t so bad. I got caught up in the TV, and then it just seemed like too much effort to get up and walk all the way to the bed.” He gave a careless shrug. “It’s not the first time I’ve fallen asleep in front of the TV.”

  “Mmm.”

  They lay in companionable silence. Jace was too afraid of breaking the mood to speak, and he figured Isabella was struggling with maybe a gracious way to get up. Hell, if it were up to him, she could stay like this all day, and he would be perfectly content with that.

  “Can I ask you something?” she finally said, as if following through on whatever she’d been thinking.

  “Sure.”

  “I’ve been out on several dates already.”

  “Right.”

  “And there’s one thing that worries me.”

  He let out a quiet, nervous laugh. “Just one?”

  She laughed with him before going on. “Well, they’ve all been kind of disastrous and ended with me practically running for the door.”

  “And?”

  Lifting her head, Isabella studied his face for a moment. “And not once did any of them kiss me goodnight.”

  Jace’s heart hammered in his chest. Part of him was relieved by her declaration, and another part of him feared where she was going with this.

  “Did you really want any of them to?” he asked after a minute.

  She shook her head. “No, but it’s kind of been a while and…”

  “And?”

  She let out a small huff. “Okay, don’t laugh.”

  “Never.”

  “You know how you think you’re a good kisser, but you never really know because it would be rude for someone to just come out and say you’re a bad kisser?”

  “Wait, who said I’m a bad kisser?” he asked in total confusion. How did they even get to this?

  This laugh was bit throatier, and Isabella reached out and cupped his cheek. “Not you, silly. I’m saying that I always thought I was a decent kisser—Brock never complained—but we were so young when we dated, and then with the other guys… I don’t know. It’s been a while for me, and I’m sort of wondering what I’d do if one of these dates ended with a kiss.”

  “But that’s how a date is supposed to end.” He sat up
and raked a hand through his hair with an edge of frustration. “Are you saying you don’t want to kiss anyone goodnight?”

  “You know what? Never mind,” she sighed, lying back down.

  “No. Come one. I’m still half asleep, and I guess I’m not following what you’re talking about.”

  Another sigh. She looked up at him, and he could see the uncertainty in her eyes. “What if I’m not a good kisser? What if that ends up being a deal breaker? What if I’m throwing out some sort of vibe that makes guys not want to kiss me?”

  Was she serious? Was this really a thing?

  “Uh, Bella, are you crazy? Are you sure you’re really awake? Because you’re not making sense. Why would you even think such a thing about yourself?”

  “It’s not crazy to be insecure about certain things,” she said stiffly, looking away from him. “I just want to find someone that I connect with and don’t want to be the one to ruin it because, you know, I’m too nervous or uptight about my kissing skills.”

  If he was dreaming, he really wished he’d wake up right about now because this conversation was beyond bizarre.

  “Bella, maybe—”

  “Will you kiss me?” she said quickly.

  “Uh, what?” There was no way he heard that right. No. Way.

  “Would you kiss me?”

  “Bella, I don’t think…”

  She sat up and looked him squarely in the eye, her expression pleading. “Jace, I trust you. There’s no on in the world I trust more. So, if we kiss and it’s not good, you’d tell me. Right?”

  “I don’t think—”

  Placing a finger over his lips, she stopped whatever he was going to say. Hell, even that small touch had him getting harder than he thought possible.

  “I know it’s not going to be great. I mean, I know we’re not attracted to each other that way, but I guess I’m asking if my… technique is okay. Does that make sense?”

  None of this made sense, and he had to hold his tongue from saying that to her. She wanted him to kiss her? He would do it. And not because she was asking—although that in and of itself was an answer to a prayer—but because this was his chance to prove to her that he was more than just a guy who was her friend.

  But what if his kissing technique sucked?

  Oh, God. How did this get so complicated?

  “You’re thinking too hard about this,” she said lightly. “This shouldn’t be a big deal, right? We’ve shared just about everything else. How hard could this be?”

  She had no idea.

  “And I don’t want you to feel bad about telling me if I’m not a good kisser. I really want to know, okay?”

  “Bella, maybe…maybe…”

  “Wouldn’t you want to know if you were a bad kisser?”

  Right now? No. Absolutely not.

  There was no going back. He was going to kiss her, and Jace already knew there wasn’t a chance in hell of her being a bad kisser. It was impossible. But if he was, he didn’t want to know.

  “Okay,” he said after a minute. “But here’s the thing, we’re not critiquing me. This is about you.” Good save. “I don’t want you thinking about me.” Liar. “Just focus on the kiss, okay?”

  She nodded and then licked her lips.

  Killing. Him. Slowly.

  Isabella looked at him anxiously. Was he just supposed to swoop in and do it? Lean in slowly? Grab her?

  As if reading his mind, she laughed softly. “I think we should just sort of pretend this is the end of a date and we’re kissing goodnight. It would be a slow, sort of—”

  She never got to finish.

  Jace didn’t want this to be a clinical play-by-play. He wanted her. He wanted to finally know what her lips felt like against his. Cupping her face, his lips claimed hers, and she completely melted against him.

  Slowly, he pulled her to him until they were almost back in the same position they had woken up in—except now she was almost sprawled out on top of him. One of his hands raked up into her hair, anchoring her to him, and Jace was aware of one of Isabella’s hands doing the same to him.

  Same. Page.

  It didn’t take long for the kiss to go from chaste to erotic. As soon as his tongue gently teased at her lips, she eagerly opened for him. And within a heartbeat, he went from kissing to being kissed. Hungrily.

  Damn.

  Isabella had some serious kissing skills.

  And she was destroying him.

  Over and over they came together—tongues dueling, lips claiming—and Jace didn’t care if he never breathed again just as long as they kept doing this.

  She shifted, straddled him, and he knew there was no way to disguise the effect she had on him. So he went with it—arching up slightly and rubbing against her—and was surprised when she moaned and did some rubbing and grinding of her own.

  Was this it? Were they finally going to do this?

  Lifting his lips from her, he trailed kisses along her jaw as he panted her name over and over.

  “Jace, please,” she gasped, pressing impossibly closer to him.

  Flipping her over, he sprawled out on top of her, and immediately claimed her lips again. God, she was so sweet, tasted so good. He wanted to kiss every inch of her. His hand left that glorious mane of hair and began to move—caressing her cheek, the slender column of her throat, until he finally cupped her breast.

  Isabella tore her lips from his and purred his name.

  Yes! Yes! Yes!

  He knew they’d be good together. Knew that if she just gave him a chance he could prove to her…

  “Oh my God!” She stiffened beneath him. But it wasn’t the good Oh my God that he was hoping for. Nope. This was more like What the hell have I done?

  Jace felt her slight shove and misjudged where he was. No sooner had she moved than he found himself face down on the floor as she stepped over him.

  Wow. Never had a woman so disgusted by my kisses that they shoved me to the floor, was his first, irrational thought.

  She was going to hate him. He’d gotten carried away, and now he’d ruined everything. With a sigh of defeat, he stayed in his position and waited.

  “I am so sorry,” she said, her face hidden behind her hands. “I…I don’t even know what to say. That was… oh God.”

  Wait. She was apologizing?

  Carefully, he turned his head to see her more clearly.

  “Oh, God. Look what I did to you.” She turned away.

  It would have been great if she’d offered him a hand, but, okay, fine. He could still look cool and collected as he scrambled to his feet.

  Sort of.

  “Bella,” he said, standing up—and ignoring the tent of his sweatpants.

  But she was walking toward the door to collect her purse and coat. “I…I don’t even know what to say.”

  “Bella, talk to me,” he pled, hurrying after her. Grasping her shoulders, he forced her to face him.

  “I really need to go,” she said, but wouldn’t look him in the eye. “That was… I mean… it was a stupid idea. I never should have asked.”

  “It wasn’t a stupid idea,” he argued, feeling more than a little annoyed at her response when just seconds ago, she was writhing in his arms and sighing his name. “There’s nothing wrong with what just happened.”

  But she pulled away. “No, I… it was. I’m so sorry. It was my fault. And I need to go.” Then she did meet his gaze. “Please.”

  And with that one devastated look, he stepped back and nodded. He would deny her nothing. Without another word, she opened the door and walked away, leaving him standing there wondering which of them she was really more upset with.

  Seven

  Isabella was so flustered and confused as she left Jace’s apartment that she ended up driving aimlessly around town.

  She didn’t even know where to go.

  Her phone rang once, and she knew it was Jace. She ignored the call and decided not to return to her own apartment, since Jace might end up heading
over there if he couldn’t get her on the phone.

  She didn’t work until the afternoon, so after making a circuit around Preston three times, she finally ended up pulling into her parents’ long driveway.

  They lived in a comfortable brick ranch on the outskirts of town on a street with just three other houses on it. She’d lived in this house until she was eighteen. Every time she walked in, it felt like a warm hug—comforting, familiar, known.

  She knew from the cars in the driveway that two of her sisters, Tori and Carla, must be here. She headed toward the kitchen, where the family usually gathered.

  Isabella stopped in the doorway when she saw that her mother was the only one in the kitchen, and every surface was covered with baking apparatus.

  “Hello, dear,” her mother said, glancing up from the dough she was kneading. “I’m happy to see you, but don’t you dare come in.”

  For her mother, baking was serious business, and any onlookers had the potential to sabotage the works. Isabella gave a faint smile, feeling better at this familiar warning. “I won’t. I just stopped by to hang out.”

  “Tori and Carla are on the sunporch. I’ll be done in about an hour.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  Isabella backed away from the kitchen and headed to the rear of the house, where she found two of her three sisters sitting on the old couch, peering at Tori’s tablet.

  Carla glanced up and smiled. “Tori is having trouble deciding on flowers for the wedding,” she explained. “Come look at the options.”

  Pleased with the distraction, she came over and sat on Tori’s other side, leaning over to get a better look at the possibilities.

  Isabella had had the flowers for her wedding picked out since she was in junior high.

  Not that she was any closer to getting married now that she’d been back then.

  Pushing away the feeling, she focused on the decision at hand. “I like them all.”

  “So do we.” Tori sighed and leaned back. “I narrowed it down to the good ones, and now I just don’t know. It would be nice if Jeff wanted to participate in the planning, but he has nothing to say but, ‘Anything you want is fine with me.’”

  Carla chuckled and even Isabella smiled at her sister’s aggrieved tone. “I guess a lot of guys don’t really care that much about flower arrangements,” she said. She turned to her other sister and asked, “Are you feeling any better?”