Page 11

Kate

Spaghetti sounds good for dinner. Yeah...pasta. Great carb. I will eat every damn bite of that shit. Okay, maybe not all of it. I will give Landon some of it. I sniffle and shove more tears from my cheeks as I grab the chopping board and pull out a knife. Grasping some fresh oregano from the fridge, I set to chopping it and browning the beef.

“ Get your shit together, girl...” I grit out loud. I know that Landon doesn’t have a girlfriend, so I need to let the crap that set me off earlier slide. They weren’t even holding hands. Landon will be home from practice any minute, and I will not be a sniffling, blustery, hot mess when he walks in that door. No ma’am. Landon gets my smiles. All the smiles.

BAM... The door shuts, and I hear the keys clash in the drop off dish by the door as his practice bag hits the floor.

“Honey! I’m home! I smell BEEF!” Landon wittily hollers out.

I can smell his freshly showered, after practice skin as he enters the kitchen, but I don’t look up from chopping.

“Whatch’ya choppin? Hmmm...” I can picture his face screwed up in a quizzical manner. He hasn’t seen my face yet, thank goodness. I blow out a light breath, trying to gather myself. Maybe he’ll even leave the room before he notices.

He walks over to the cupboard and pulls a pot out from underneath. As he reaches up into the top pantry cupboard to the right of my head, I notice out the corner of my eye he’s frowning as he pulls out the box of noodles. He sets them down gently on the counter and slowly exhales. Damn it... he’s noticed. I shouldn’t be surprised. The man notices everything.

“I’ll get the water for the noodles started,” he utters softly. His shoulder brushes against my back as he sets to his task. Fuck, he’s so sweet. He doesn’t push me to talk yet. He’s observant like that. Waits until I am ready to spill my guts or break into tears. Always waiting and ready for whatever is next. Strong and comforting. My safe place. I catch his jaw flexing from beneath my lashes. He looks as if he has something to say but is thinking better of it.

“Whose ass do I need to kick?” he says through somewhat gritted teeth.

I blow out a snickering breath. Typical Landon, always trying to make me laugh.

“Whatever he did or said, he’s an idiot.” Landon leans back on his forearms against the counter behind me, taking in anything I’m not saying and probably ticking off a list of “idiots”, primarily one, to talk to. His eyes are burning a hole into the back of my head.

“I’m just in my head. Landon, what am I doing wrong? Why can’t I get any of it right? Why do I always go for the wrong guys? I just want a little bit of happiness. I just want to be...” I trail off, embarrassed at my overshare of thoughts and too nervous to share the rest of that sentence. Setting the knife down, I shake my head, looking up at the ceiling.

“Say it… What do you want?” His voice sounds deeper, almost pained.

“I just want...” I sigh and gather my nerve. “I just want someone who wants me...NEEDS me...” I whisper into the deafening silence of the kitchen, feeling way too vulnerable. It’s too quiet. He doesn’t know what to say. Damnit. I shared too much. This goes beyond the friendship boundary talk. I. Am. An. Idiot. I can’t look at him.

I hear him push off the counter, and suddenly, he’s the only thing I am aware of in this all too small kitchen. He comes up behind me and pushes the knife away from the cutting board, out of reach. He’s thinking about what to say. That’s what he does. Always thinks good and hard about what he says or does before he does it. It’s one thing I’ve always liked and disliked about him because right now, I need words.

His right hand brushes my right shoulder and gently slides down my arm in a featherlight caress. Pressure from his forehead leans into and rests on the back of my head. I hear him inhale softly. He’s so gentle, yet his presence is so strong.

I can’t breathe.

This silence is torture.

“I need you...” My held breath releases and catches at the sound of his whisper into my hair. Did I just hear him right?

No, couldn’t be. He’s never fully voiced any of these feelings. Not on the night of the graduation party. Not even after Swig’s. Not even in the moments that felt like it all could’ve gone somewhere. Could’ve been more. He’s just saying he needs me because I’m his best friend. Even though there have been WAY too many not best friend thoughts lately. I just assumed after these past few quiet weeks we’d never go there again.

“I’m your best friend, of course you’d say you...” My words are cut off when his right hand grabs my hip and exudes a calculated, controlled pressure. Landon growls. Literally growls, and I have never heard such a delicious sound from him. I feel it all the way to my toes. As his hard chest presses into my back, my heart kicks into a gallop and goosebumps skitter across my flesh. My eyelids flutter as I feel his left hand reach across and brush a dark strand of hair from in front of my right ear as he leans down and whispers while reaching to flip off the stovetop. My breath stutters.

“Tell me...” His right hand’s thumb circles my hip, then his hand leaves to trail the exposed skin of my neck. I shiver.

“Do best friends press their chest to you like this?” His fingers travel toward my collarbone.

“Do best friends make your pulse kick up in speed like yours just did?” His hand moves languidly across my collarbone to rest atop my heart. He inhales sharply, and I feel his smile while he darkly chuckles in my ear. His scent is surrounding me and damn is it intoxicating.

“Does a best friend make your heart pound like yours is beneath my fingertips right now?” He circles his thumb over my heart and pulls me closer.

Fuck... What is he doing to me? Humming approvingly, he traces the gooseflesh up my left arm, only causing more to appear.

“Mmm...I think you need reminding of what want feels like...” My mouth goes dry and my breasts begin to heave in time with my breathing. His hand on my heart travels down the valley between my breasts to my belly where he pulls me back, sealing my body flush with his hips, and I gasp at the feel of steel pressing into my ass. Holy shit, he’s big. A quiet groan escapes his lips, and I want to hear that again more than I want my next breath. It’s my new favorite sound.

“ I want you, Kate...” He whispers this time in my ear and my knees almost buckle. “Does this feel like you aren’t wanted? Because I promise, if you’ll let me, when I’m done, you’ll never wonder if anyone wants you again.” His lips gently kiss that spot right beneath my ear only to skim the length of my neck and press into where my neck and shoulder meet. I am speechless. Utterly speechless.

“I want you on this counter...” Kiss. “ in my bed...” Kiss. “ but more importantly...” Landon sucks air in through his gritted teeth like he’s almost losing control but regains it. “I want you every day… Always have and always will. And I’m done sitting back as your ‘best friend’...fuck that.”

He practically growls that last part out, and, with that said, his hand grabs my chin and his lips clash against mine hungrily. I gasp my surprise into his mouth, the act giving way for his tongue to sweep in, searching for mine. His words and caresses have lit my skin on fire, and I need more. Pulling back only enough to turn me toward him, this next kiss lands tender, with a gentle, achingly sweet pressure.

“Do you want me to stop?” Hungry eyes explore mine.

“Wow...” I whisper breathlessly and smile, reaching up to touch my lips. His eyes center on the movement.

“More...” He rumbles back, diving in again, claiming and exploring every inch of my mouth with his lips, tongue, and teeth, lighting my core on fire. Who knew Landon could be so…so…? My brain can’t find the word.

Sensing my sudden need, his big hands stretch down and grasp the back of my thighs, lifting and securing my legs around his waist only to settle my ass on the edge of the counter. I’m probably sitting on oregano, and I couldn’t give a fuck.

Fantasies do not do this man justice. His hands slide up over my knees and outer thighs torturously slow. He grabs my hips, pressing us so tightly together the seam of my jean shorts burns into my most sensitive places. We both groan into each other’s lips at the close, but not close enough, feeling.

“The other day after practice,” Kiss. “ I wanted to suck the raindrops off these lips...” He rushes out the words as if he doesn’t have enough breath to even speak them between kisses. He runs all ten of his fingers through my hair. Shit that feels nice. He angles my head up and back to have better access to my throat, which he kisses from base to chin. Oh, that’s good.

“Every time I catch you in just a towel,” he groans, “it takes every ounce of willpower to not push you against the wall, rip it off your hot little body, and kiss every damn inch of skin you obliviously tease me with.” He presses into me with his hips again. “Can you feel what you do to me?”

Hell yes I can.

Starving lips devour mine as he begins to rock against my center. I could combust right here and now, and not an ounce of clothing has been removed. This man is going to devastate me if we get naked.

Setting both hands on the counter beside my hips, he turns the kiss tender, then stops and looks at me with the hungriest blue eyes I have ever seen. Fucking take me now. We are all but gasping for air. Catching his breath, he smiles and states, “Get dressed. We’re going out to dinner.” He leans back in to peck my lips but pulls himself away with effort.

“What?” I utter, breathlessly confused.

“If we stay here, there won’t be dinner.” He flashes me one of his best devilish grins that girls swoon over. “At least not spaghetti.”

“Oh...” OH... My core clenches. Okay. I could skip dinner. I blush.

“Don’t worry.” He rubs a thumb across my bottom lip. “I’m not done with you yet.” Landon pulls me off the counter and sets my wobbly feet on the floor, making sure I’m steady before he turns to head toward his room. Tossing a heated glance full of dark promise over his shoulder, he adds with a devilish grin, “But I will take you out on a proper date before I fuck you.”

Holy.

Fuck.