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“I’m sorry about that.”
“No you’re not.”
I shake my head. “You’re right. I’m not. And I am sorry about that.”
He tucks my hair behind my ear. I lean into the touch and turn my head, lips brushing his wrist. Not on purpose, but on purpose all the same.
“Princess.” The word is guttural. Pained.
“Please, Hollis.” I rest my cheek in his warm palm, and he doesn’t pull away. An ache is heavy in my chest and pulsing between my thighs.
His eyes close, and for a moment, I fear he’ll turn me away. Again. But when they open, there’s such longing. And conflict. So much conflict. But he moves closer and leans in. “I shouldn’t,” he murmurs.
His calloused fingers are gentle against my cheek. His eyes move over my face, and my heart ricochets around in my chest. I don’t dare move or breathe or say a word.
This is really happening. Hollis is going to kiss me. Finally.
His lips brush over mine, and I’m melting and on fire at the same time. That insidious ache flares between my thighs. Heat rushes through my veins as he pulls my bottom lip between his. He angles my head and parts my lips with a soft stroke of tongue. And I moan. God, I moan. At the velvet warmth of his lips, and the sure way he kisses me. My leg bumps his under the water, and his other hand cups my face as he pulls me closer.
No fantasy can compare to this. To him. Seductive strokes of tongue, his warm, soft lips moving against mine. It’s so tender and sweet. So perfectly right. It’s the kiss to end all kisses. I’ll never be the same after this. His deep, needy groan sends a delicious shiver down my spine. I skim his ribs under the water with tentative fingers, afraid to break the spell but desperate to touch more of him. He angles my head further, tongue sweeping my mouth in rhythmic waves that make my toes curl. I’ve never been kissed like this. The rush of desire is dizzying.
I curve my hand around the back of his neck, needing him closer. I want to climb into his lap and wrap myself around him. I want his hands on my body, our bare skin touching. I want his fingers between my thighs, relieving the awful, glorious ache that expands with every passing second. I want more. Of him. Of this. I suck his tongue and whimper when he does it back. The sound he makes—part groan, part animalistic growl—makes my body hum with need.
I skim the back of his hand and trail the length of his arm. “Please, please.” I don’t know what I’m asking for, but I need something. I can’t get enough of the pull of his lips, the gentle way he holds my face and yet commands my mouth with his.
I slide closer, leg pressing against his. I feel electrified, desperate for touch. For him to relieve this maddening, overwhelming throb that amplifies with every masterful stroke of tongue and nip of teeth. I’m seconds away from climbing into his lap.
And then suddenly his lips aren’t on mine anymore.
My eyes open, and his expression makes my stomach drop. Lust and longing are still very much present, but the guilt is an anvil to my hummingbird heart.
“Fuck.” His gaze moves to the side. “That was not?—”
“It’s okay, Hollis. We’re not doing anything wrong.” It doesn’t matter if I’m right, that we’re both adults who can make adult decisions. We’re reading from the same book, but we’re on different pages. He still sees me as his best friend’s daughter, and I see him as the man whose bed and heart I want to be invited into.
“That was a mistake, Aurora.” He pulls himself out of the water. “We can’t happen. Not ever.”
I desperately want to find a way to fix this, but as I take in his wet, tense form, and the very impressive erection tenting the front of his swim trunks, I already know I can’t.
Worse though, is that any questions I had about my feelings for Hollis have been put to rest. I can’t pinpoint how long I’ve felt this way, but the horrible, paralyzing pain in my chest confirms it. I’m in love with him.
I sit in the hot tub for several minutes after he’s gone, trying to process what happened. It started as the best kiss of my life and ended as the worst. Not because of the kiss, but because of the way Hollis looked like he’d already stepped in a steaming pile of regrets within seconds of it ending.
CHAPTER 11
HAMMER
Ipry my eyes open at the sound of my alarm. They feel like they have sand in them from all the crying. I woke more than once last night in tears. I cringe when I get a load of my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are ridiculously puffy. In my dreams, Hollis got back together with Scarlet, and he kept kissing her in front of me.
That had better not be a premonition.
Rix has already left for work, so I drag my ass into the shower. It doesn’t help with the puffiness. While I’m lying on the couch with tea bags on my eyes—the online recommendation to alleviate my issue—my dad lets himself into my apartment. It’s a bad habit of his.
“Hey, kiddo, what are you doing?”
Shit. I can’t tell him I spent last night crying over his best friend. I scramble for a plausible lie. I remove one tea bag and blink him into focus.
Dad frowns. “Are you okay? Did something happen? You’ve been crying.”
