“Use me away.” He pulled me closer against him. “Use me for more writing. I’m desperate to read more. Natalie, Olivia—be whoever you want to be as long as I get more out of your beautiful brain, and if that means more time with you, I suppose I could sacrifice myself for that.”
“You are outrageous,” I told him. “Here I was, all worried that I was using you as a muse, and you don’t even care.”
“How could I care?” He leaned forward into me. Our lips mere inches apart. His voice pitched low and seductive. “I want to be your muse.”
“You do?” I asked huskily.
A tingle ran through my body as he brushed the shell of my ear and dragged his finger down my neck.
“I do.” His hand trailed over my shoulder and down my arm before finding my freezing fingers. His thumb drew circles into my skin.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
“What I should have done a long time ago.”
My breathing was ragged, as he cradled my neck in his hand, tilting my head up to look at him. I knew what was about to happen. I could see the longing and desire painted on his face. That need that had been there all night but had never been more blatant than that moment, that single, solitary moment before his lips brushed against mine.
And to my surprise, desire flared red hot in me. An ache that I’d ignored for the last year. One that said I wanted this, and I wanted more of it. That I could never have enough of it. Of the easy way it was to be around him and the sweet taste of his lips on mine.
I hadn’t felt desire like this in a year. Not with the aimless blind dates that Amy had insisted on setting me up on. Or the gentle pursuance from one of the guys I had known from high school. There had been nothing but emptiness.
But here was Lewis.
Lewis.
A fucking Warren. An Upper East Sider. Penn’s best friend. All of these things that I didn’t want.
And yet, my body responded like a lit fuse.
I should back away. Walk away and never look back. I definitely shouldn’t slide my arms around his neck. Or press my body harder against his. Or open my mouth and let his tongue ravage me.
But, without even a thought, I was doing all those things. A soft moan escaped me as his fingers dug in deeper, and our lips danced against one another. His lips were soft, tender, persuasive. His body dispelled the lingering chill in the air. From my now-very-heated body.
I hadn’t been kissed in a year.
A long, cold year.
Yet here I was, on a rooftop in New York, with snowflakes falling from the sky to kiss my lashes, and I was kissing one of the most eligible bachelors in the city. It felt like a fairy tale.
If it wasn’t so incredibly wrong.
Why did my first kiss in a year have to be with Penn’s best friend?
I pressed my lips to his one more time, and then with great effort, I pulled back to look up into those deep, dark eyes. “I shouldn’t,” I sputtered.
“I know.” He kissed me again, slowly and luxuriously. As if we had all the time in the world. As if the reasons I shouldn’t do this didn’t matter.
“Lewis,” I pleaded. “I can’t.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?” He dragged my bottom lip between his teeth and then pressed us together again.
My mind was saying, No, but, dear god, my body was saying, Yes, yes, yes.
I broke away again. My hand flew to my lips as if I could somehow undo that magical moment and the hot feel of his lips against my own. “Won’t,” I finally settled on. “I’m sorry.”
“Natalie…” he muttered. “You can see this for what it is.”
I shook my head. “We both know that this is wrong. That I shouldn’t do this.”
“Why? This was perfect. You know it was.”
I didn’t say anything because, otherwise, I’d agree with him.
“Because of Penn?” he demanded when I said nothing.
I winced again at his name and said softly, “He’s your best friend, Lewis.”
“He destroyed you,” he hissed. “He used you and wrecked you and then tossed you aside. Did he even try to see you after you left New York?”
He had.
He’d tried. And obviously not told anyone else about it.
But it hadn’t been enough. It would never be enough. The pain of that confrontation still hurt. And afterward, I’d told him not to contact me. He’d listened. He’d stayed far away. I hadn’t had one single message from him since I kicked him out of Charleston.
That had hurt, too.
Lewis stepped into me again. “Let me be the one to put you back together.”
“I don’t need anyone to put me back together,” I whispered.
“Surely, you know how I feel about you, Natalie. I don’t hide it very well, even then.”