He was standing right in front of me. Everything I’d missed earlier tonight was now super in focus for me. From the blueness of his eyes to the fullness of his lips that were surrounded by super-spiky stubbles of beard; the white shirt that hugged every goddamn builder-built muscle of his upper body.
I dropped my gaze for a second. “The last one I watched was the one with Jar Jar Binks. My dad bought me this little rubber Jar Jar whose tongue stuck out when you threw him at the wall and he just kind of hung there. One day his tongue broke, and I was devastated. But I had a Jar Jar toothbrush and everything. I really loved him. Not really sure why.”
“What?”
“Oh.” I focused on him and saw that he was looking at me with a mix of attraction and something darker—something that held a hint of sexiness. “It’s not important. I’m rambling.”
“Right.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. I should get going.”
“Sure. Of course. You have to work tomorrow.” I gripped the door handle and leaned against the door. “Tonight was fun… In a weird kind of way.”
“See if you feel that way tomorrow when the hangovers kicked in.”
“I won’t be hungover from three tequila shots.” I snorted. “I’ll sleep in a little late at most.”
“Right. Well, you text me in the morning and see how that’s working out for you.”
“I’ll make sure I do.”
“Good.” His lips curved up in an unfairly sexy way. “So…goodnight.”
“Night.”
What did I do now? Shut the door? Kiss his cheek? Wave? What was the polite thing to do?
Good Lord, someone needed to write an article for Cosmo on fake relationship etiquette.
Mason leaned down at the same time I leaned up. I aimed for his cheek but—
Well.
I missed.
A lot.
Instead of hitting the rough stubble of his left cheek, my lips brushed against his full, soft ones. Neither of us moved for what felt like for-freaking-ever—we just stood there, lips together, not touching anywhere else other than there.
It was simultaneously the most awkward and best kiss I’d ever had. It was so painfully innocent, yet at the same time, tingles cascaded over my entire body, from the base of my neck and down my spine, over my arms and to the tips of my fingers where I was gripping the door.
Gripping the door.
Mason was leaving.
And now my lips were on his.
This had gone terribly, terribly wrong.
I yanked myself back, drew in a sharp breath, and shoved at his chest. He stumbled backward just enough for me to slam my front door and flatten my back against it.
Oh, my God.
My heart was beating like mad, thundering against my ribs, and my entire body was tingling. Tequila and kissing was a dangerously heady mix, and I was right in the middle of that high right now.
Except the high was mixed with the complete and utter embarrassment of accidentally kissing someone you swore you wouldn’t kiss—and by total accident.
“Lauren?” Mason said from the other side of the door.
I squealed. “What?”
“I left my phone in your kitchen.”
Shit.
I pulled the door open, keeping myself flat against it and, incidentally, hidden behind it.
“Got it.” His footsteps paused. “You want me to just walk out so you can slam the door again and pretend that just didn’t happen?”
“Yep.”
“You got it.” A few more seconds and then he said, “I’m outside. Go ahead.”
I ran backward until the door clicked shut. “Thank you!”
“Night, Lauren.”
“Night, Mason.” I locked the door before he could come in again and, after grabbing another water and my phone, ran to my room where I could put yet another barrier between us in the shape of my bedroom door.
It didn’t matter that he was probably downstairs and out of the building, meaning he was nowhere near me right now.
I couldn’t believe that had happened. That we’d accidentally kissed.
This was why cheek-kissing was bad.
It could go really, really wrong.
And now it had.
Because even as I stripped to my underwear and climbed into bed, pressing the covers against my mouth, all I could feel was the warmth of Mason’s lips against mine.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN – MASON
Few things rattled me and got under my skin.
Blood? Not at all. Gore? Not really. Women crying? That I struggled with, but I could cope. A little. I’d survived my sister going through puberty, after all.
Accidentally kissing Lauren Green?
That rattled me.
It was fucking terrifying to think that was the truth. To think that this woman was getting under my skin.
The thought that I was so shaken by a simple brush of her lips, an accidental touch, one that meant nothing at all, had me driven to distraction.
I didn’t know what bothered me more: the fact that we’d kissed or the fact that it hadn’t been enough for me.
Because it hadn’t. It simply fucking hadn’t. That one tiny touch had consumed me; it was making me obsess over and over what it’d be like to cup her neck with my hands and kiss her until she melted against me.