Page 14 of Shared by my Ex’s Best Friends (Twisted Desires #2)

Chapter fourteen

JAKE

T he garden’s bigger than I expected. Wild, but beautiful—ivy climbing the stone walls, flowers blooming in no particular order, like the whole place has a mind of its own.

Maya walks ahead of me, the hem of her dress brushing her calves as she picks her way through the gravel path, one hand shielding her eyes from the low afternoon sun.

“We’ll probably want to string some lights here,” she says, pointing toward the overgrown archway. “Maybe a few lanterns, if the forecast stays clear.”

I nod, though I’m not really thinking about the lights. I’m thinking about how close I am to screwing up everything. To wanting something I’m probably not supposed to want—not like this.

“Maya,” I say, but I don’t follow it up with anything. Just her name. Just the weight of it in my mouth.

She turns, eyebrows raised. “What?”

I shake my head, offer a crooked smile. “Nothing. Just… taking it in.”

She huffs a soft laugh, and it’s like wind chimes in a breeze. “It’s a mess right now.”

“Yeah,” I say. “But a beautiful one.

She opens her mouth—maybe to say something snarky, maybe to call me out—but she never gets the chance.

A fat raindrop hits the back of my neck.

Then another.

Then all hell breaks loose.

“Oh, come on,” Maya groans as the sky cracks open, rain pouring down in sheets.

“Gazebo!” I shout, grabbing her hand before she can protest.

We run, sprinting across the lawn as the storm soaks us instantly. Her laughter bubbles up beside me. We make it to the gazebo in seconds, ducking beneath the wooden roof as the rain hammers all around us.

Maya pushes her wet hair out of her face, cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling like she’s run a mile. “Well. So much for clear skies.”

“You okay?” I ask, brushing a drip of water from her cheek with my thumb.

She nods, but she doesn’t look away.

Neither do I.

There’s something about the sound of the rain—how it walls us in, how it quiets the rest of the world. My heart’s pounding, and I don’t know if it’s from the run or from the way she’s looking at me.

“Jake,” she whispers, like a warning.

Or maybe a plea.

Her words are barely audible over the downpour, but it hits me harder than thunder.

I take a step toward her. She doesn’t move—doesn’t back away, doesn’t break eye contact. Water beads on her eyelashes. Her lips are parted, inviting. Tempting.

Too tempting.

“Tell me not to,” I say, my voice low and rough, thick with everything I’ve been holding back.

She swallows hard, blinking like she’s trying to force herself to speak—but the words never come.

“I can’t.” We both know this changes everything. But neither of us pulls back.

That’s all I need.

I close the last inches between us, my hands rising to cradle her face. Her skin is cool from the rain, but her mouth—God, her mouth—is warm as I finally kiss her.

It isn’t soft.

It’s not sweet.

It’s hard and demanding and hungry.

She responds instantly—her hands fist in my shirt, dragging me closer like she’s starving. Her lips move against mine with an urgency that steals my breath, and I match it with all the restraint I don’t have.

The kiss deepens, our mouths clashing like we’ve both had this fantasy burning in the back of our minds and neither of us is willing to let it go.

I tilt her chin up and sweep my tongue against hers. She lets out this soft, desperate sound that unravels something in me. I groan, low and guttural, as my hands slip from her cheeks to her waist, pulling her against me.

Her body melts into mine—soft curves, wet skin, that scent of rain and something unmistakably Maya .

I walk her gently back until she hits the wooden post of the gazebo. She gasps at the contact, and I take the opportunity to trail kisses along her jaw, down her neck.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” I murmur against her throat.

Her head falls back slightly, giving me more access. “I think I do,” she breathes. “Because you’re doing the same thing to me.”

I smile against her skin, then bite gently at the spot below her ear, soothing it with my tongue. She shudders in my arms, her fingers tightening at my shoulders like she’s afraid I’ll stop.

I don’t.

I kiss her again, slower this time. I love the way she tastes, the way she moves, and the little noises she makes when I tug her bottom lip between my teeth.

“Jake…” she whispers again, but it’s different now. Less warning, more need.

My name sounds like a prayer on her lips, and I kiss her harder. I could lose myself in her. I already am. And that scares the hell out of me.

The rain continues to fall around us, but inside the gazebo, it’s just heat and breath and burning desire.

Her hand slips under the hem of my shirt, splaying warm fingers against my stomach, and it takes everything in me not to lose control right there.

Then the rain starts to slow.

The spell breaks.

The steady drumming on the gazebo’s roof fades to a quiet patter, like even the sky knows it’s time to pull back.

We both freeze.

Breathing hard. Chests heaving.

The air between us shifts, no longer ignited with heat, but thick with something else—something uncertain and fragile.

Maya looks up at me, her eyes wide and stunned, pupils still blown, lips red and parted from our kiss. She looks like she’s been caught in a dream she’s not ready to wake from.

“I—” she begins, voice barely a whisper, but I can see a dozen things behind that one syllable.

Panic.

Want.

Guilt.

Fear.

“We should get back inside,” I cut in, fast. Too fast. My throat is dry, my voice rough. I don’t let myself think about what I really want to say. Not when I know it would change everything.

She flinches slightly. Not visibly, but I feel it like a shift in gravity.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, eyes darting away. “Okay.”

We step out from the shelter of the gazebo, the wet grass cool beneath our feet. Our hands swing close, brushing once, and both of us pull away like it burns.

The walk back to the venue is quiet. No banter, no teasing. Just silence, thick and loud and crawling over my skin like static. I glance at her a few times, but she doesn’t look back. Her arms are crossed, damp hair sticking to her neck, her jaw tight like she’s holding something back.

I don’t know if it’s regret.

I hope to God it’s not regret.

Inside, Ethan’s crouched beside a row of linen bows, his big hands working carefully to tighten them perfectly so they can go on the backs of the chairs. Liam’s bent over a clipboard, lips moving as he counts off something on the checklist.

Neither of them looks up. Neither of them sees us.

Which is good, because we’re soaked, and a little wrecked.

They’d be able to tell something happened between us, I’m sure.

I run a hand through my wet hair, trying to focus on the here and now, but I feel her next to me—feel that kiss like it’s still stamped on my mouth. My fingers twitch with the need to reach for her again, but I shove my hands into my pockets instead.

“Jake,” she says. I turn toward her.

“Yeah?”“Don’t… say anything,” she adds. “Not yet.”

I nod once. “Okay.”

Inside, however, I’m already replaying it all.

The way she kissed me back. The way she melted into me like she’d been waiting for that moment just as long.

The way she made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered in the world for those few electric seconds.

Something changed in that rain.

Something real.

No matter how much we try to pretend otherwise, there’s no going back now.