Amanda sat on the edge of her bed. Stood up. Sat down again. This was crazy. It wasn’t like she and Luke were alone in the rental house.
But if nothing happened before he moved to L.A., it was never going to happen. Ever.
So she stood up, crossed the room, turned the doorknob, and finally tiptoed toward his bedroom.
If any of their friends were awake and wondered what she was up to, she’d say she was going to the bathroom. Hadn’t Luke made it ridiculously clear which room he was taking, going on and on about the king-size bed—like he wanted her to know where he was? And that look as he’d said good night…hadn’t that meant something?
Her mother always told her to be careful around men. Don’t give anything up, don’t do anything stupid, and no matter what, don’t fall for the wrong guy.
But Luke wasn’t the wrong guy. She knew it. She’d known it for three whole years.
Carefully, she tapped her fingers on the door. She wanted Luke to hear but not anyone else.
A sleepy, muffled sound came from within. Was he saying something? Rolling over? She wasn’t sure. She didn’t have a lot of experience with sneaking around for late-night trysts.
But she thought of his curly hair, his lean back, those two perfect dimples when he smiled. Playing it safe had gotten her nowhere. Slowly, not daring to breathe, she turned the doorknob, pushed open the door, and stepped inside.
“Hey,” she whispered. Her voice sounded strange. Too low and throaty. Far away. As though she didn’t quite dare say the word out loud. As though she knew the only way to understand each other wasn’t through words at all.
He made a noise, and she took a step toward the bed. Then another. It was pitch black in the room with the blinds closed, but she heard him rustling. She could tell he was rolling over and pulling back the bedspread.
The next thing she knew, she was climbing into the bed, and there was no moment, no pause, no question. No more doubt. One second she was Amanda Perkins, pining after what she thought she couldn’t have.
The next second, she was kissing him, and kissing him, and kissing him. Still Amanda Perkins. But completely changed.
His body was taut and hard, pure lean muscle, even more than she’d expected. His jaw was just beginning to scratch with the beginnings of stubble. But his lips were soft, his mouth warm, his tongue searching.
She’d heard plenty of talk about fireworks. Chemistry. The sparks that ignited when everything was perfect.
“It’s all bullshit,” her mother had warned her. “Hormones. Lies. Don’t listen to the media. Don’t listen to your friends, and don’t listen to the sweet things men will say to get in your pants. You’re smarter than that, Mandy. Don’t forget I’ve raised you right.”
Her mother never had to worry. Amanda hadn’t ever felt fireworks. Any time she thought she’d found a tiny little light all her own, it had fizzed and sputtered out. Usually along with some depressing text about, “It was so nice to meet you, but I’m just not ready for more right now.”
But this. Oh God. This.
Luke brought his hands to her hair, three years’ worth of unkissed kisses consuming them both. He drew her closer, and when she threw her leg around him, he ran his hand up her thigh to her ass, pulling her tighter.
She let out a low whimper. She hadn’t meant to; she knew she had to be quiet. It just kind of escaped.
She was wearing only pajama pants and a loose V-neck T-shirt with no bra. Normally, she’d have been mortified to be seen in so little. But it was dark, and she’d gone in there hoping to take it off anyway.
Now she was glad she hadn’t put on jeans, a bra, actual clothes. It was better without that useless fabric getting in the way. Luke cupped her breasts, found the nothingness of her T-shirt and the peak of her nipple underneath, and let out a low moan that sent the blood pooling straight between her legs.
He teased her nipple through the T-shirt then brought his hand up underneath, over her stomach, to her breast. She kissed him hungrily, pressing her hips into him, feeling his cock notch up hard between her thighs. He was in his boxers, nothing else, and she got to run her fingers over the plane of his stomach, his back, his biceps, feeling every inch.
She’d seen him shirtless plenty of times—at the beach, the city pool, sometimes changing quickly at their office if he was about to meet his brother after work for a run. She’d drunk in the sight a million times, but it was nothing like getting to feel it now, memorizing his body in the dark. She couldn’t believe they were doing this. It was so much better than she’d ever imagined.
He ground his hips against her, making clear how their bodies would fit together when they were naked. Why had they waited so long to feel this? Why had she held herself back?
But she couldn’t think, couldn’t berate herself for not doing this sooner, because it was too good, too perfect as he bit her lip then flipped her so he was on top, pressing hard between her legs.
She stroked his cock through his boxers, amazed by the weight of it, how thick and solid in her palm. This was real, it was so much more than any fantasy, and she pulled out his cock, feeling the wetness at the tip, stroking him in her fist while he drew down her pajama pants just enough to press into the warmth between her legs, his finger finding her in all the right places. She moaned out loud, the sensation too much, too good—
“Luke,” she panted, eager for him to keep circling her clit like he’d started to, faster and wetter, some part of her wondering if he had a condom because she certainly didn’t, never imagining getting this far…
The next thing she knew, he was scrambling off her.
She thought it was because he’d read her mind and was getting a condom. Maybe he had one in his bag. Maybe he’d planned ahead and wanted this to happen, too. He was just doing it awkwardly, abruptly. Not Luke-like at all.
But sex was different. It could be awkward for everybody. It was okay that she was suddenly no longer kissing him, feeling strange and half-naked with her shirt up, her pants riding down her ass but her underwear on.
Then he turned on the light, glaring and harsh after the darkness she’d grown used to.
And she realized her mistake.
He wasn’t going to get a condom. In fact, he wasn’t going to continue this another second more.
He’d leaped off the bed and was pulling on his pants that were thrown on the floor—not taking off his boxers for more.
Luke would have been smiling, some charm-your-panties-off grin to make her melt no matter what. Even if it was to say he’d changed his mind, they were too good of friends, tonight wasn’t the night.
There would have been two dimples on his face, even as he was breaking her heart.
But there was no smile. And there were no dimples.
There was no glitter in his eyes.
Because she wasn’t lying there, half naked and turned on out of her mind, looking at Luke.
She was looking at his twin brother, Noah.
Who was staring down at her and rubbing his eyes like if he blinked hard enough, she’d disappear.
Find out what happens next!
Amazon iBooks Nook Google Play Kobo Entangled Add to Goodreads
[/col3_1]
