something now, to appear as an active inhabitant of planet Earth. So I forced out: “I'm surprised you even knew where I lived.”
“I dropped you off that day in the rain. And anyway, here we are, just you, me, and my misshapen nose,” he said, and angled his head so his gaze was like a laser beam into mine.
I laughed. “How is your nose? Feeling any better?”
He lowered the ice bag and rested it on the coffee table. “A little better,” he said. “The ice helped. But I'm thinking your lips would be even better.”
Uh—my what? I was near utter speechlessness.
“Kiss it,” he said. “Come on.”
A laugh bubbled up inside me. Not that
anything
was funny.
“My nose,” he said. “Or my mouth.” He leaned in toward me, his lips targeting a bull's-eye for mine.
My mind spun wildly. There were a hundred reasons, a thousand reasons, to stop him. “Don't do it,” I even heard myself say. “Don't kiss me.”
“Okay,” he said, but kept inching closer.
Liar that he was.
That he'd been
.
That he'd always be.
I knew I should turn away, run, do something.
But was it so wrong to be selfish? Just this once? I'd waited and waited for this kiss, I'd paid my dues. I'd earned it.
Then, with nothing but breath between our mouths, Rascal suddenly paused. Hovered. Hesitated.
The quiet before the storm? Second thoughts?
As abruptly as he'd stopped, he plowed forward, his mouth capturing mine. Cool lips, pressing hard.
Surrounded by a clean, masculine scent. His body squishing me back against the arm of the couch, his heart picking up speed.
“Rascal,” I murmured, to my own embarrassment.
I put a wide-fingered hand on his neck and pushed into him, the way the girls did on The O.C. and in all the really good movies. The last thing I wanted was for him to think I was inexperienced and immature.
Then a sharp tug on the clasp of my shorts told me he thought me anything but.
“Hey!” I shouted.
He stopped, then pulled back and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “What?”
I just shot him a look.
“Okay,” he answered with a lazy smile. “Why don't you fill me in on the rules?”
“The rules?”
“Yeah, what I need to say or do.”
I tensed, a little voice in the back of my head warning me I wasn't going to like where he was going. So I froze. Said absolutely nothing. Waited for him to continue.
“I'll do whatever it takes.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Can you go back in time and take me to your junior prom?”
A smile touched his mouth. “If I could, Nicolette. It's not like I had a great time.”
My breath went shallow. “You … you regret how it turned out?”
“You know, I do. I let you down and ended up bored half to death.”
Wow. Just like in my fantasies, Rascal was actually admitting he'd made a mistake! But funny, while the moment was indeed sweet, I'd been expecting cotton-candy sweet, instead of what I got, sort of red Twizzlers sweet.
“You and I,” I said, “would have had an incredible time.”
Probably
. At least, I thought so.
“Especially afterward, right?” he asked, all low and familiar.
“Well—”
He silenced me with a finger to my lips.
I puckered my lips and kissed it. Simply because I could.
A grin touched his mouth; then his voice went all sexy. “We may not be able to go back in time,” he said, “but there's no reason to waste any more. We can have the after-party right now.”
“Now?”
“Sure. We're into each other. McCreary's history, Kylie's out of the picture. No one's home. What's stopping us from taking our relationship to the next level?”
I covered a laugh. “The fact that we hardly know each other?”
He let out a tired sigh, leaned back on the sofa, lacing his fingers behind his head, and looked me dead in the eye. “This is the best way I can think of to get to know each other better.”
I twisted my ring.
I'm not real proud of this, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't consider his offer for a millisecond. I mean,
“I dropped you off that day in the rain. And anyway, here we are, just you, me, and my misshapen nose,” he said, and angled his head so his gaze was like a laser beam into mine.
I laughed. “How is your nose? Feeling any better?”
He lowered the ice bag and rested it on the coffee table. “A little better,” he said. “The ice helped. But I'm thinking your lips would be even better.”
Uh—my what? I was near utter speechlessness.
“Kiss it,” he said. “Come on.”
A laugh bubbled up inside me. Not that
anything
was funny.
“My nose,” he said. “Or my mouth.” He leaned in toward me, his lips targeting a bull's-eye for mine.
My mind spun wildly. There were a hundred reasons, a thousand reasons, to stop him. “Don't do it,” I even heard myself say. “Don't kiss me.”
“Okay,” he said, but kept inching closer.
Liar that he was.
That he'd been
.
That he'd always be.
I knew I should turn away, run, do something.
But was it so wrong to be selfish? Just this once? I'd waited and waited for this kiss, I'd paid my dues. I'd earned it.
Then, with nothing but breath between our mouths, Rascal suddenly paused. Hovered. Hesitated.
The quiet before the storm? Second thoughts?
As abruptly as he'd stopped, he plowed forward, his mouth capturing mine. Cool lips, pressing hard.
Surrounded by a clean, masculine scent. His body squishing me back against the arm of the couch, his heart picking up speed.
“Rascal,” I murmured, to my own embarrassment.
I put a wide-fingered hand on his neck and pushed into him, the way the girls did on The O.C. and in all the really good movies. The last thing I wanted was for him to think I was inexperienced and immature.
Then a sharp tug on the clasp of my shorts told me he thought me anything but.
“Hey!” I shouted.
He stopped, then pulled back and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “What?”
I just shot him a look.
“Okay,” he answered with a lazy smile. “Why don't you fill me in on the rules?”
“The rules?”
“Yeah, what I need to say or do.”
I tensed, a little voice in the back of my head warning me I wasn't going to like where he was going. So I froze. Said absolutely nothing. Waited for him to continue.
“I'll do whatever it takes.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Can you go back in time and take me to your junior prom?”
A smile touched his mouth. “If I could, Nicolette. It's not like I had a great time.”
My breath went shallow. “You … you regret how it turned out?”
“You know, I do. I let you down and ended up bored half to death.”
Wow. Just like in my fantasies, Rascal was actually admitting he'd made a mistake! But funny, while the moment was indeed sweet, I'd been expecting cotton-candy sweet, instead of what I got, sort of red Twizzlers sweet.
“You and I,” I said, “would have had an incredible time.”
Probably
. At least, I thought so.
“Especially afterward, right?” he asked, all low and familiar.
“Well—”
He silenced me with a finger to my lips.
I puckered my lips and kissed it. Simply because I could.
A grin touched his mouth; then his voice went all sexy. “We may not be able to go back in time,” he said, “but there's no reason to waste any more. We can have the after-party right now.”
“Now?”
“Sure. We're into each other. McCreary's history, Kylie's out of the picture. No one's home. What's stopping us from taking our relationship to the next level?”
I covered a laugh. “The fact that we hardly know each other?”
He let out a tired sigh, leaned back on the sofa, lacing his fingers behind his head, and looked me dead in the eye. “This is the best way I can think of to get to know each other better.”
I twisted my ring.
I'm not real proud of this, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't consider his offer for a millisecond. I mean,
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