Somehow I’ve traveled back in time to my third-grade playground days. Unless there’s another explanation for why Garrett is goading me into kissing him.
“I don’t have to prove a damn thing,” I inform him. “I happen to be a fantastic kisser. Sadly, you will never get to find out.”
“Never say never,” he answers in a singsong voice.
“Thanks for that, Justin Bieber. But yeah, not going to happen, dude.”
He sighs. “I get it. You’re intimidated by my potent masculinity. Chin up, it happens all the time.”
Oh brother. I can still remember the days—all of a week ago—when Garrett Graham wasn’t a fixture in my life. When I didn’t have to listen to his cocky remarks or see his rogue grins or get drawn into a flirt battle I have no interest in.
Except Garrett happens to be very, very good at one particular thing: throwing down the gauntlet.
“Fear is a fact of life,” he says solemnly. “Don’t let it get you down, Wellsy. Everyone experiences it.” He leans back on his elbows like a bigshot. “Tell you what, I’ll give you a free pass. If you’re too scared to kiss me, I won’t make you.”
“Scared?” I rumble. “I’m not scared, dumbass. I just don’t want to.”
Another sigh rolls out of his chest. “Then I guess we’re back to self-confidence issues. Don’t worry, there are a lot of bad kissers in this world, sweetheart. I’m sure with practice and perseverance, you’ll one day be able to—”
“Fine,” I interrupt. “Let’s do it.”
His mouth slams shut, eyes widening in surprise. Ha. So he didn’t expect me to call his bluff.
Our gazes lock in a stare-down for the ages. He’s waiting for me to back down, but I’m confident I can wait him out. Maybe it’s childish of me, but Garrett has already gotten his way about this tutoring thing. This time I want to win.
But I’ve underestimated him yet again. His gray eyes darken to smoky metallic silver, and suddenly there’s heat in his gaze. Heat, and a gleam of self-assurance, as if he’s certain I won’t go through with it.
I hear that certainty in the dismissive tone he uses when he finally speaks. “All right, show me what you’ve got then.”
I falter.
Fucking hell. He can’t be serious.
And I can’t actually be considering meeting this inane challenge. I’m not attracted to Garrett, and I don’t want to kiss him. End of story.
Except…well, it doesn’t feel like the end of anything. My body is engulfed with flames, and my hands are trembling not from nerves, but anticipation. When I picture his mouth pressed against mine, my heart races faster than a drum-and-bass track.
What the hell is the matter with me?
Garrett inches closer. Our thighs are touching now, and either I’m hallucinating it, or I can actually see his pulse throbbing in the center of his throat.
He can’t possibly want this…can he?
My palms grow damp, but I resist wiping them on the front of my leggings because I don’t want him to know how unnerved I am. I’m wholly aware of the heat radiating from his jean-clad thigh, the faint scent of his woodsy aftershave, the slight curve of his mouth as he awaits my next move…
“Come on,” he mocks. “We don’t have all night, baby.”
Now I’m bristling. Screw it. It’s just a kiss, right? I don’t even have to like it. Shutting that smart mouth of his will be reward enough.
Arching a brow, I reach up and touch his cheek.
His breath hitches.
I sweep my thumb over his jaw, stalling, waiting to see if he’ll stop me, and when he doesn’t, I slowly bring my mouth to his.
The second our lips meet, the strangest thing happens. Pulsing waves of heat unfurl inside me, starting at my mouth and then rippling down my body, tingling in the tips of my breasts before traveling even lower. He tastes like the peppermint gum he’s been chewing all night and the minty flavor suffuses my taste buds. My lips part of their own volition, and Garrett takes full advantage by sliding his tongue inside. When my tongue tangles with his, he makes a low, growling noise in the back of his throat, and the erotic sound vibrates through my body.
Immediately, I’m hit with a jolt of panic that spurs me to break the kiss.
I suck in a shaky breath. “There. How was that?” I’m trying to sound unaffected by what just happened, but the slight wobble in my voice betrays me.
Garrett’s eyes are molten. “Not sure. It wasn’t long enough for me to properly judge. I’m gonna need more to go on.”
His big hand cups my cheek.
This should be my cue to leave.
Instead, I lean in for another kiss.
And it’s just as eerily incredible as the first. As his tongue slicks over mine, I stroke his cheek, and God, that’s a big mistake because the scratchy feel of his stubble on my palm intensifies the pleasure already wreaking havoc on my body. His face is strong and masculine and sexy, and the sheer maleness of him triggers another burst of need. I need more. I didn’t expect to, but damn it, I need more.
With an anguished moan, I angle my head to deepen the kiss, and my tongue eagerly explores his mouth. No, not eagerly—hungrily. I’m hungry for him.
Garrett threads his fingers through my hair and tugs me closer, one powerful arm curling around my hip to keep me in place. My breasts are now crushed against his rock-hard chest, and I can feel the wild hammering of his heart. His excitement matches my own. The raw, husky groan he releases tickles my lips and sends my pulse careening.
Something’s happening to me. I can’t stop kissing him. He’s too addictive. And even though this might have started with me somewhat in charge, I’m no longer in control.
Garrett’s mouth moves over mine with skill and confidence that steals the breath from my lungs. When he nibbles on my bottom lip, I feel an answering tug in my nipples, and press one palm to his chest to ground myself, to try to keep from floating away in a mindless cloud of pleasure. His hot lips leave mine and travel along my jaw line, dipping down to my neck, where he plants open-mouthed kisses that leave shivers in their wake.
I hear a tortured whimper, and I’m startled to realize it came from me. I’m desperate to feel his mouth on mine again. I thrust one hand in his hair to bring him back to where I want him, but the dark strands are too short to grab onto. All I can do is pull his head forward, which summons a low chuckle from him.
“Is this what you want?” he rasps, and then his lips find mine, and he thrusts that talented tongue into my mouth again.
A moan leaves my throat at the exact moment the bedroom door swings open.
“Hey, G, I need to borrow a—”
Dean grinds to a halt.
With a squeak of horror, I tear my mouth away from Garrett’s and shoot to my feet.
“Oops. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” Dean’s grin takes up his entire face, and his twinkling green eyes make my cheeks scorch.
I snap back to reality faster than you can say biggest mistake ever. Holy shit. I’ve just been caught making out with Garrett Graham.
And I was enjoying it.
“You’re not interrupting,” I blurt out.
Dean looks like he’s fighting back laughter. “No? Because it sure seems like it.”
Despite the tight knot of embarrassment lodged in my throat, I force myself to glance at Garrett, silently pleading for backup, but his expression catches me off guard. Deep intensity and a flash of annoyance, but the latter is directed at Dean. And thrown into the mix is something akin to fascination, as if he can’t believe what he and I just did.
I can’t believe it either.
“So this is what you two do when you’re up here,” Dean drawls. “All that deep, intensive tutoring.” He air-quotes the last word, chuckling in delight.
His teasing irks me. I don’t want him thinking that Garrett and I are…involved. That we’ve been fooling around for the past week behind everyone’s backs.
Which means I have to nip his suspicions in the bud. ASAP.
“Actually, Garrett’s just helping me brush up on my make-out skills,” I tell Dean in the most casual voice I can muster. At this point, telling the truth is far less humiliating than letting his imagination run wild, but the confession sounds insane when I utter it out loud. Yep, just honing my kissing skills with the captain of the hockey team. No biggie.
Dean snickers. “’That so?”
“Yes,” I say firmly. “I have a date coming up and your friend here thinks I don’t have any moves. Trust me, we’re not into each other. At all.” I realize that Garrett still hasn’t said a single word, and I turn to him for confirmation. “Right, Garrett?” I ask pointedly.
He clears his throat, but his voice is still gravelly as hell when he speaks. “Right.”
“Okay…” Dean’s eyes gleam. “Then I’m calling your bluff, baby doll. Show me your moves.”
I blink in surprise. “What?”
“If a doctor told you you’ve got ten days to live, you’d go for a second opinion, wouldn’t you? Well, if you’re worried about being a crappy kisser, you can’t just take G’s word for it. You need a second opinion.” His brows lift in challenge. “Let me see what you’ve got.”
“Stop being a jackass,” Garrett mutters.
“No, he has a point,” I answer awkwardly, and my brain screams, What?
He has a point? Apparently Garrett’s body-melting kisses have turned me into a crazy person. I’m shaken up and confused, and most of all, I’m worried. Worried that Garrett will know I…what? That I’d never been so turned on from a kiss before? That I loved every second of it?
Yes, and yes. That’s precisely what I don’t want him to know.
So I saunter over to Dean and say, “Give me a second opinion.”
He seems startled for a second, before breaking out in another grin. He rubs his hands together, then cracks his knuckles as if he’s preparing for a fight, and the ridiculous gesture makes me laugh.
When I reach him, his bravado falters. “I was just kidding, Wellsy. You don’t have to—”
I cut him off by leaning on my tiptoes and pressing my mouth to his.
Yep, that’s me, just another college coed kissing one guy after the other.
This time, there’s no heat. No tingles. No sense of overpowering desperation. Kissing Dean is nothing compared to the way it felt kissing Garrett, but Dean seems to enjoy it, because he lets out a groan when I part my lips. His tongue enters my mouth, and I let it. Only for a few seconds, and then I step back and put on my most nonchalant face.
“Well?” I prompt.
His eyes are completely glazed over. “Uh.” He clears his throat. “Uh…yeah…I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
He looks so stunned that I can’t help but smile, but my humor dissolves when I turn to see Garrett rising from the bed, his chiseled face darker than a thundercloud.
“Hannah,” he starts roughly.
But I can’t listen to the rest. I don’t want to think about that kiss anymore. Or ever. The mere memory of it makes my head spin and my heart pound.
“Good luck on the makeup tomorrow.” The words rush out in a fast stream of nervousness. “I’ve gotta take off now, but let me know how it goes, ’kay?”
Then I quickly gather up my things and hurry out of the room.
