She shakes her head. “There’s no red lipstick in jail.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Is that really red?” It’s perfect on you. I want to taste it. Feel it on my neck, stomach, cock.
“I think it’s called Wine and Dandy.”
You taste like wine, princess? My balls tighten at the thought of her soft lips. Which is another reason why this is a terrible idea.
I already want to tear her clothes off.
If we—
I can’t even think about kissing her. About kissing anyone. It’s out of the question.
“Do I need to reapply?” She glances at the screen. Blows her reflection a kiss.
“It’s perfect.”
She rests her head on my shoulder. “You ready?”
“I don’t remember agreeing to this.”
“You won’t take a picture with me?”
“You know what you’re doing.”
“Trust me. You’ll want to do it when she reacts.”
“Skye—”
“Please. Give me an hour. That’s it.”
“Is this really what you want?”
She nods, the picture of confidence, and motions to the camera. Right now. “One hour. That’s it. If you’re still against it—”
“You’ll keep asking?”
“We’ll call it off.” Her brow furrows with concentration. “And I’ll… start fake dating Holden or something.”
“No—”
“If you aren’t going to be the one to help me, then—”
“Skye, seriously.”
She motions to the camera. “Come on. You’re going to drain my battery.”
There’s no way I’m letting her fake date Holden.
“Forest.”
Skye is headstrong. If she really wants a fake boyfriend, she’s going to find one.
I need to take the position or find a suitable replacement.
Not fucking Holden.
My little brother holding Skye, touching her, kissing her—
No way.
No one is holding her, touching her, kissing her.
Only someone is. She’s doing this, with or without me.
She moves closer.
Presses her body against mine. Wraps her arm around my waist.
Our reflections stare back.
She’s perfect—comfortable, gorgeous, sexy.
I’m… not.
Click.
She snaps a picture. Studies it. “This isn’t the spot.” She slides her cell into her purse. Motions to Inked Hearts. Then in the direction of the beach. “Which is more annoying? Holden or beach crowds?”
“That’s a tough call.”
She laughs right. “How about this?” She motions to the coffee shop across the street. “We sit next to each other. Post something about the cold brew we’re sharing. How it’s our routine.”
“Yeah…”
“You don’t like it?”
“What are you trying to do?” I ask.
“Convince you.”
I swallow hard. Fuck, my heart is still beating so fast. It’s ridiculous. I’m not Gloria Gaynor. I don’t know how to love again. I’m not going after Skye.
She deserves someone who can love her with every ounce of his heart.
Yeah, I think love is a bad idea. I tell her that. But if she disagrees, I’m not going to stand in her way.
Only the thought of someone else kissing her—
“Okay. We’ll do the coffee shop,” I say.
“Good.” She steps sideways, breaking our contact. “You think it’s enough?”
“How much does it need to be?” I study my friend’s expression. Try to figure out what she’s after.
Her cousin hurt her, sure.
And there’s no way Skye’s avoiding this wedding. Her family will remind her she skipped it for a long time.
She needs to protect herself.
But there’s an edge to her voice.
It’s more than that.
“It needs to be enough she believes it.” She moves toward the light. “Enough that she regrets what she did.”
“Cheating?”
“Tossing you aside. Breaking my trust—”
“Your what?”
“Nothing. It’s… all that usual shit. About how I’m not hot enough for a boyfriend.”
“You don’t believe that.” It’s ridiculous. I believe Skye when she says the goth princess thing scares off guys. But she’s still a curvy goddess.
Fuck, I need to tear off that dress. Drop to my knees. Peel her panties to her ankles.
Do they match that lacy bra she posted?
I need to know.
“Forest?” The walk sign flashes. She moves into the crosswalk. “You think of something?”
My fingers curl into fists. She’s right. Mack shouldn’t get away with that shit. With constantly implying that Skye is lesser because she’s not as small as Mack is.
I wish I could say that Mack isn’t attractive, but she is. She’s gorgeous. And her body is—was—appealing in a different way.
But so is Skye’s.
Women are beautiful. I’ve never struggled with wanting the physical parts of a relationship.
With wanting a naked woman under me.
It’s the rest of it—the intimacy, the connection, the vulnerability—that makes me nauseous.
“Will this make you happy?” I ask.
“I’m doing it.”
“But will it?”
“It will satisfy me.” Her gaze flits to the clean concrete as we step onto the sidewalk. It’s strange how nice everything around here is.
Every shop on this block is clean, white, bright. Sure, Inked Love has the bright pink string lights, the red frames, the big black letters.
But it’s still trendy, modern, sleek. Like a tattoo shop designed by Apple.
We stay quiet as we move into the clean coffee shop, order drinks, fix them, meet at the table.
She motions to the seat facing the window. “It’s the best light.”
If anyone knows, it’s her. “Is that your secret?”