He squeezes my ass, his gentle touch turning rough as he snatches me closer. The area between my legs throbs and I moan at the slightest contact of him hard beneath me.
A hand slides through the slit of my gown, warm palm grazing my bare leg. He doesn’t need to ask for permission; I hike my leg up to his waist and the satin falls open. I’m exposed up to the hinge of my hip bone and it only fuels my need for more—I need his hands, his mouth everywhere. He knows what I need, he always does. His palm glides all the way up to find the bare skin of my ass.
“God, you’re sexy as hell,” he groans.
I writhe into him and his body shifts to meet me, both of us chasing that friction. When we find it, he smothers my moan as our mouths meet again. Our lips and tongues tease and chase as our bodies rock in tandem.
The frantic passion that started this turns wild, daring. My lips swell from the intensity of our kissing, but I don’t want to stop. I never want this to end. Because, right now, it feels like he’s mine and I’m his.Finally.
My hand moves down his chest and over his belt. I palm him through his pants, applying a bit of pressure, and he groans. His breath catches in his throat and I smile against his lips.
Then, something shifts. Time stops.
No.Hestops.
Labored breaths land heavy on my neck. His hands come to the wall on either side of my head and the leg I had wrapped around his waist drops to the ground. Every point of contact suddenly gone. He pushes off the wall like a warm blanket being peeled off me inthe dead of winter. I’m left motionless before him, breathless and waiting.
A raw current of vulnerability spears through me when he averts his gaze. The man that just kissed me into oblivion, touched me in ways nobody else ever has, can’t even look at me.
He rakes a hand down his face before he sputters, “I’m…I’m sorry.” My heart sinks. “That was a mistake.”
“What?” I breathe.
“I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”
Before I can stop it, he walks away and he doesn’t look back.
Chapter Ten
DO YOU WANT ME TO LEAVE?
Connor
Gretchen needs you.
Talk about my personal kryptonite. Even if I’m three years too late to play the I’ll-always-show-up-for-her card, a week and a half of Gretchen’s radio silence still wasn’t enough to stop me from getting on this plane.
“I don’t want her to be alone,”had been Drew’s words to me earlier. While I rushed to wrap things up at the office, I asked my best friend to explain the situation to me. He didn’t have much to offer other than that he suspects Gretchen is hiding something.
The guilt nearly destroyed me on the spot.
If Drew knew half the truth I’ve kept from him, he wouldn’t have asked me to come, that’s for damn sure.
I made him a promise. A promise that I broke three years ago in colossal fashion.
But she had kissed me back. Like,reallykissed me. For long minutes that felt like an eternity and the blink of an eye all at once,that balcony was heaven on earth. Until it wasn’t. Until my guilty conscience grabbed me by the balls and I stopped it.
I told myself that it was the right thing to do as Drew’s threats and warnings from years past echoed furiously in my ears.
What Drew’s cautionary voice didn’t account for at the time—and that I learned too late—is that, while Drew is my best friend, Gretchen was an unexpected bright spot that had been slowly, innocently burrowing into the deepest corners of my heart since we were kids. We both grew up and suddenly, my heart wasn’t just a heart anymore. It was a Gretchen shaped ball of hope. And that hope fell dead in my wake with each step I took in the opposite direction.
The jolt of the plane hitting the tarmac startles me awake. The haunting melody of James Morrison’s “Don’t You Forget About Me” drifts through my headphones. The higher powers-that-be must have my name on their bingo card today. I press theskipbutton.
My gaze turns toward the window. In the distance, beyond Phoenix proper, a sea of orange-red hued mesas pierce the blue sky above. The late-June heat practically rises off the rock formations in every direction.
I toggle off airplane mode on my phone and wait for it to recalibrate to the new time zone. Gretchen landed a few hours ago. Surely she’s been in touch with Drew by now, but I still don’t have any messages from her.
The fasten seat belt sign goes off and everyone rushes to stand. I’ll never understand the wholelet’s stand up so we can waitplane debarkment philosophy. As the sound of passengers collecting their luggage from the overhead bins fills the cabin, I remain in my seat and navigate to my texts to let Gretchen know I’ve landed.
