Wrapping my arms around her tight, I brought her to my chest. She fought like hell but I held on. Goddamn it, I held on.
“Let go! I hate you!” She kicked at my shins. Her hands pounded my sides. “I hate you! I hate you!”
“I’m not gonna apologize, Carly. I know I hurt you but I’m not going to apologize. We’re friends, nothing more. You know that. That’s what you wanted.” I tried to sound calm, rational.
“You kicked my bike!” Then she began to cry. Really cry.
“Shh, baby, don’t cry. C’mon, don’t cry. I’m not fucking worth it.”
“You smell like sex.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong.” But it felt like I had.
“I know,” she wailed.
“Shh, stop crying.” It was ineffectual but I didn’t know what else to do. All I wanted was her sweet smile to return. Guilt was eating me alive. I hadn’t felt this shitty in twelve years.
I didn’t stop to think about what I was doing. I leaned down and whispered in her ear. “You’re beautiful.”
My nose ran along her cheek. Her breath touched my face, sweet and warm, and I brushed my lips across hers. I kissed her jaw, below her ear, my thumb caressing the soft skin of her cheek. I tried to move slow, but with every breath I felt my restraint bleed away. I found her lips again and moaned.
Releasing her hand, I wrapped my arms around her and crushed her to my chest. I kissed her like I needed her more than I needed my next breath.
Everything stopped but the feel of this fragile bird coming apart in my arms as her body melted against mine. The low seductive sound in her throat, the grip of her hands on my arms, the flutter of her heartbeat in my ears, it fueled something deep.
Not thinking, used to getting what I wanted, used to a different type of woman, I spun us around and lifted her onto the counter. Pulling her hips to mine, my hands snaked under her thighs and brought her legs around my waist. I pushed into her, straining to get closer despite our clothes.
Too late, I realized I’d gone too far.