The Kiss

“Really Maria?”

“If you’ve got it, flaunt it, sister.” She grins as she takes a sip of wine and I cover my face with my hands.

“Okay. Moving on,” I say, and I’m about to get up and clean up the roll explosion when Trevor puts his hand on my shoulder. “I’ve got it,” he says.

He takes the basket from my lap and starts gathering the rolls. I take another sip of wine. “Thanks.”

Trevor pulls his chair out. “Some went under the table.” He grins. “I’m going in.”

There are chuckles around the table as he drops down and scoots under the table cloth. “These rolls certainly know how to roll,” he says as his legs disappear. “Sorry everyone.” His body slides against my leg as he gathers the bread, and I feel as he turns to come back out. I feel him pause, and then his fingers on the bare skin of my ankle. I tear off a piece of bread and try to focus on what Bradley is saying.

Trevor’s hand slides up my leg and onto my thigh, and I try to keep my face neutral. Should I kick him? I could, but doing that might bring attention to it, especially with us packed in so close. I refill my wine glass, ignoring the fingers on my leg, ignoring the way my heart is beating and the way my stomach suddenly has its own set of butterflies. If he stays under there much longer everyone’s going to think he got lost and someone is going to look.

Then suddenly, I feel the fabric of his shirt against my leg and his fingers sliding close and his breath on my skin and Oh. My. God.

His fingers move my underwear and his tongue sweeps across my pussy from bottom to top, touching every part of me. A burst of pleasure flashes through my gut and I jump so hard that I spill my wine all over my sweater. “Shit!” I say.

“My fault,” Trevor says, coming out from under the table. “It’s a maze of legs under there. Someone had to get bumped.” His smile is as bright as the Christmas lights outside.

“Let me go clean this up,” I say, and look at Anna. “At least I didn’t get it on the skirt.”

The table laughs as I head to the bathroom. Thank god. I need a minute alone. Make that an hour. Frankly, it could be forever and I might not make sense of this—Trevor’s actions and my body’s feelings. I take the time to wash the wine off my sweater. Thankfully it’s white wine, but that can still stain. My brain circles around to why I spilled the wine in the first place. Why on earth? What would possess him to do that?

The door to the bathroom opens and Trevor comes in. He locks the door behind him.

“Trevor, what are you doing?”

He grins. “I thought we might continue what I started.”

“We can’t,” I say, going for the door. “And what the hell was that?”

My hand is on the handle when he grabs my hips and spins me. Now my back is against the door and Trevor is in front of me. Our bodies aren’t touching, but I can feel his heat, and the look on his face tells me that they’re not touching yet. “And why can’t we continue?” he asks.

“Because,” I say, “it’s—”

I don’t get to finish my sentence, because Trevor’s body is pressed against mine. And if that weren’t enough, he’s kissing me. Suddenly I think I can feel every cell inside myself, and I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this awake—this alive. My body goes soft and pliant, pressing against his as I open my mouth to him. His tongue plunges inside my mouth and I can think of other things of his I want inside me. My hands have a mind of their own and they’re exploring his shoulders, his ribs, all the muscles that hockey has honed and hardened.

Hockey. This is Trevor. Trevor.

I jerk back, breaking the kiss and dropping my hands away from him. One of his arms is wrapped around me, the other braced against the door. He’s pressing into me and I can feel how hard he is. He doesn’t move an inch.

He gives me that same maddening smirk from this afternoon. “Is something wrong?”

I notice just how out of breath I am. “Yes, something’s wrong. This. This is wrong, Trevor. We can’t do this.”

“Why not?”

I gape at him, trying to ignore the fact that his body is still warm on mine and the fact that I’d do just about anything to get him to kiss me again. I push those feelings back. We can’t. “You’re my son’s best friend. I watched you grow up. You’re…so young.”

He leans in close, and I lose my breath again. “And now that I’m gown up, I know exactly what I want.” He presses his lips against my neck, and my skin tingles. I feel my nipples harden into peaks and god, everything about him is overwhelming. I want him. But there are so many things. What happens if Brad finds out I slept with his best friend? If anyone finds out I had sex with a man half my age. “Trevor…why?”

It’s the only word I can force out of my mouth that encompasses everything I’m feeling. Why do I want him, why does he want me, why is any of this happening? “Stella,” he says, and I get wet at the sound of him saying my name in that voice—rough and raw and painting images in my mind of sleepless nights and skin on skin. I think he might say something else, but he kisses me again, and it’s fierce that set every part of my body on fire.