Page 26 of Something Borrowed

“Yes, please,” she said.

Then his mouth was on hers, and all thought and inner dialogue was no more. All he could do was feel. She ran her tongue softly along the ridge of his mouth—not quite French kissing, but something more than just a simple mouth kiss. Then her teeth dragged his lower lip and bit him—just lightly. The surprise of it made him shiver, and all of him twitched to attention. He didn’t know if he’d ever felt anything like it. She pressed her body closer, and he took her heart-shaped face in his hands, kissing her more deeply. She smelled so great, like some kind of fruit and vanilla and spice. He didn’t want it to end—and he didn’t want to make her feel pressured for anything more.

His heart was racing, his breathing fast, when she pulled back. Man, he hoped he wasn’t drooling. Her eyes were soft, and he felt lost in them. It had been so long since he had affectionate, sexual physical touch. He hadn’t realized how parched he was for it.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Vic’s cheeks flushed and she laughed softly. “You’re . . . welcome?”

“That was . . . I, well . . . I had a seriously great time tonight,” he said.

“Me too,” Vic whispered.

“I wish it didn’t have to end. Maybe we can do it again soon? You could introduce me to smoked oyster and onion pizza—my treat, of course. Maybe this Friday night?” Fingers crossed, he thought. Fingers crossed!

Vic was silent.

“Please say yes.” Man, he had no pride.

Vic’s mouth opened. Then she sighed and shut it again. Then she clasped her hands and rubbed them together. “Or maybe I could come over now?”

What, really? he thought.

She batted her eyelashes coquettishly and teased, “You did say you didn’t want the night to end.”

He definitely had said that, and he’d meant it, and yet—

Shut up, brain. Stop overthinking everything all the time.

“Yeah, why not? That’d be great.” He tried, didn’t know if he succeeded, to keep his excitement from being embarrassingly evident.

“I’ll grab my coat.”

That flirty grin again. Cal felt a little breathless.

On the way out to the van, she slid her hand into his. It was soft and smooth and sent pulses of heat and anticipation through him.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked as he unlocked and opened the van door for her. “I mean I’m thrilled, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t want you to . . . I don’t know, feel any pressure.”

Vic had been about to climb into the van, but now she paused and turned around to face him. “You actually mean that, don’t you?”

“What? Yeah. Definitely, I do.”

Vic’s brow creased, and her face was yellow and pensive in the weak beams of a nearby streetlight. “I have to clear something up first, then you can decide if you still want me to come over for the night or not.”

Of course, I will, Cal thought, feeling certain.

“I’m really attracted to you,” she said, and Cal’s heart—and something else—twitched again. “And I think, maybe,” she smiled, “you are attracted to me too?”

He nodded, a sudden frisson of unease itching through him. She sighed, that strange sadness there again.

“The thing is, Cal . . . You’re a good guy, I can tell. Kind. Honest. You don’t want to be with me. I thought we could have some fun together, but,” she shook her head, “I can’t do this to you. I can’t saddle you with someone like me.”

“What are you talking about?” Cal was flummoxed. “What does that even . . . mean?” What the hell was happening right now?

Her eyes closed for a second. When she opened them, she said, “I know this seems bizarre. It is bizarre. I’m bizarre. But trust me. As my lovely mother says on repeat, but she’s not wrong . . .” Her voice took on Audra’s high-pitched, nagging tone. “If people really knew you, Victoria . . . and what she means is, if people really knew me, they wouldn’t like me. And she’s not wrong. And the people wouldn’t be wrong.”

“I . . . I’m totally confused here, Vic—and your mom? Your mom says that?” Cal was having a hard time keeping up, as his body dealt with confusing, waning arousal and his brain churned with a slurry of indignant rage and bafflement. What kind of parent said that to their kid—especially when their kid was middle-aged? It was . . .