Beautiful Broken Mess(7)

By: Kimberly Lauren


“I won’t,” she whispers back.

I know that I must have a cocky grin on my face, but damn it’s nice to know how much I seem to affect her. “Well, I guess I’ll be the pitiful guy at home, waiting for a girl to call him,” I say, winking. “Bye, Audrey.”

She needs to walk away now before I kiss her. If I do, I’ll kiss her so hard her lips will bruise. She needs to walk away, but instead, she’s just staring at me with that hopeful look on her face. Then all at once, the look dies and she says, “Bye, Jace.”

Was she hoping that I would kiss her too? Before she can get out of arm’s reach, I pull her back in front of me. I need to know that I’ll see her again. “You know that party Cole West throws every year before school starts?” I ask, throwing out the first thing I can think of.

She doesn’t say anything for a long time, and I start to think about what I asked. It doesn’t seem like a hard question. Everyone knows about Cole’s parties. People in town gossip about them for weeks afterward. Every August around this time, his parents fly up to DC for business purposes and that giant house of his just begs for a party. I can picture Audrey now, wearing a bikini and all wet from swimming. Shit, she needs to answer me so I can divert my attention away from thoughts of tiny bikinis, water, and her body. She nods her head.

“You’ll be there tonight, right?”

“Uh… if you want me to,” she replies.

“I want you… there.” I mostly just want her, but I also want her at that party with me.

“Okay, I’ll come. Where is it?”

This girl is hard to comprehend. Cole’s parties never change their venue. I cock my eyebrow up at her and ask, “You’ve never been?” When she shakes her head, I’m floored. Cole is everybody’s friend, he knows no stranger. How has he missed this one? And thank God he has, because she might have been the one exception to the bro-code of not hooking up with your buddies’ girls, current or past. “It’s at Cole’s house, which is the biggest one on Lincoln Court. You can’t miss it.” It’s a monstrosity. Way too big for three people.

For a fraction of a second, I see her face fall, but she quickly picks it back up and says, “Wow, okay… I’ll be there tonight.”

I can tell she’s uncomfortable about something and that she’s only agreeing to go because I want her to. Problem is, this girl even looks cute when she’s uncomfortable. I can’t hold out any longer. I reach out and situate her bag of groceries on the passenger seat again. Then before she even realizes what’s happening, I grab her arms and pin her against the side of the truck.

I can feel her heart beating wildly against my chest, so I lean down and press my lips against hers. Damn, she’s sweet. I shouldn’t have started this, because how the hell can I stop kissing a mouth that tastes like honey? With a little bit of persuasion, I coax her lips open and instantly my tongue is slowly dancing with hers. I still have her arms in a tight grasp against the truck, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She’s letting me control this.

My right hand slides away from her arm and over her waist, and I have to hold on tightly, afraid this enchantress will disappear. When my other hand leaves her arm, she instantly laces her fingers through my hair, which pulls a moan from my mouth. Our kiss deepens, both of us needing more. Then, damn it all… she lifts one of her legs and wraps it around my waist. I can’t stop myself from shoving her back further into the truck and grabbing the warm skin on her thigh to hold it in place. She fits me perfectly.

After a couple of heated beats, I realize that I’m about to rip this girl’s clothes off in the middle of the parking lot. My mom might be the coolest parent ever, but she would kill me if she heard about this from the old lady gossip in this town. So reluctantly, I break the kiss. Her eyes remain closed and she’s trying to catch her breath, as am I. Who knew making out could be so damn hot?

“Holy hell…” I breathe.

“Wow…” she says in the same moment.

“You’ll be there tonight.” It’s not a question anymore.

She nods her head and I hand her back the groceries. Without another word, I watch as she walks away carrying her paper bag, even though everything within me is saying she shouldn’t go. Call it the ‘White Knight Syndrome,’ but there’s just something about a beautiful damsel in distress, and I sure as hell want to be the one to save her.


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