Risking It All (8 page)

Yet her heart slammed against her rib cage in blind panic. She froze, afraid to breathe, waiting on the edge of a precipice that threatened to turn her world upside down. Allowing this to continue would alter everything between them. They couldn’t ever go back from this. Every time they looked at each other, they’d know, they’d remember, and their entire relationship would change. How do you look at your best friend the same way again when you know the flavor of his mouth?

Before she could think to push him away, his mouth finally touched hers. A fleeting, tentative kiss, the mere brush of his lips over hers, but then and there, she lost the battle. A soft whimper escaped, and God help her, she leaned into him.

As if sensing her surrender, he let out a quiet groan. His arms slid around her waist, tugging her full against him as he leaned down, claiming her mouth. She’d been in his arms a thousand times, but this time was different. He wasn’t just the boy next door, but a flesh and blood man. Hard muscle, and smooth, warm skin, and a tight, possessive grip. Every inch of her came alive with the press of him against her. Her sensitive breasts pushing into the solid wall of his chest left her breathless. His powerful thighs brushing hers made her tremble. Dizzy with the need firing through her, she curled her fingers, clutching his shirt to keep upright.

His kiss was better than anything she’d imagined. Sweet and gentle, patient and quiet. That’s how she’d have described Kyle if anyone asked. His kiss contradicted the man she knew. It was a bold declaration of heat and possession, as if he branded her as his, but with an undercurrent of raw hunger. His lips danced over hers, his hot tongue darting into her mouth to slide along hers. He kissed like a man dying from thirst who’d been given a glass of water—pulling, tugging, demanding satisfaction.

The flicker in her belly ignited into a full-blown inferno, and she couldn’t stop herself from lifting onto her tiptoes to deepen the contact. He tasted like heaven, so hot and heady it made her dizzy. No man had ever kissed her like this before, with so much passion. His body trembled against her as hard as her own, and every sweep of his tongue, every slide of his mouth over hers, pulled her farther into him, until the room disappeared completely. Until there was only him and the blind newness of the passion swelling between them.

A knock on the door shattered the brief insanity.

They came apart with a gasp, though whether from her or him or both, she couldn’t be sure. She opened her heavy-lidded eyes to find him watching her. His splayed hands rested against the small of her back, still holding her close, singeing her flesh even through the material of the shirt she wore. His shirt.

In the blink of an eye, panic flitted across his face.

“Shit.” He stiffened and stepped back, dragging a hand through his hair as he spun and paced several steps away from her.

All she could do was watch, shell-shocked, as she attempted to gather herself. Her body mourned the loss of his warmth in the form of the shiver that raked through her. Without his strong arms around her, her every limb went limp and heavy. She half feared if she moved, her legs would no longer hold her up.

Except her feet had rooted to the floor, her body trembling as realization washed over her. She’d kissed her best friend. They’d gone and crossed that invisible line she’d sworn never to cross.

She waited on the edge of that precipice again, watching him pace, needing to see his eyes. She needed him to say . . . something. High emotions. Pregnancy hormones. Momentary insanity. Anything to explain what had happened. To explain how on earth they’d gotten to this point. At the same time, she didn’t know if she wanted to hear any of it. She didn’t want to contemplate what the kiss meant. What her reaction meant. Doing so would only cement the emotions she’d tried to squash for months. Their relationship had clearly changed, but how? When had her best friend stopped being only a friend?

But he turned, his gaze once again landing on hers, and regret took shape in the depths of his eyes. “Ceci, I’m sorry.” He shook his head, raking both hands through his hair as he took another step back. “God, I’m sorry. I should never have done that.”

She couldn’t stop herself from flinching at his words, couldn’t stop the sting from seeping into her soul, either. A whole slew of new emotions swamped her. They hit like a slap in the face, knocking the wind out of her—hurt and rejection. He regretted it. She could still taste him. His scent was embedded in her skin. Every time she dragged in a breath, she inhaled his essence. God, she hadn’t even had time to think about how
she
felt yet, and already he was sorry?

The very thought made her want to weep and had tears pricking at her eyes. The unbearable pain washed over her, settling in her chest. Out of all things she expected to feel the first time he kissed her, hurt and rejection hadn’t been one of them. He’d just turned her world upside down. Maybe they’d decide it was best not to pursue this attraction any further. She knew it wasn’t. But to hear him tell her he regretted kissing her took everything she felt for him, everything that kiss had been for her, and dismissed it. Not unlike the way Jimmy had so carelessly dismissed her pregnancy and their entire relationship.

Before she could think of what to say, to form a coherent response, his expression went blank. The shift in him was subtle, yet something she’d seen too much of in the last few months. He was shutting her out, as if nothing had happened. He dropped his arms to his sides, his jaw tightening, and sidestepped around her. At the door, he paused, his hand on the knob, and turned to her, his mouth opening.

She shook her head and held up a hand, halting the words before they could leave his mouth. “Don’t.”

She knew that look. He was going to explain it away, or apologize, and she couldn’t bear hearing it twice. She didn’t want to think about what it meant that his rejection hurt so much, but it did, and if he said it again, it would crush her.

“I need to get out of here.” Needing to be anywhere but in the same room with him, with the pain and confusion seated between them, she turned and marched down the hallway, back toward his bedroom.

***

As Ceci’s footsteps faded down the hallway, Kyle expelled a heavy breath. The hurt and shock on her face flashed before his mind’s eye, taunting him. Regret hung on him, tightening in his chest.

He dragged a hand through his hair. What in God’s name had he been thinking? Unfortunately, the answer came all too quickly. That was the problem. He hadn’t been thinking. He had no willpower when it came to her, and she’d backed him into a corner. She’d nailed him with her acute observation. He
was
hiding things from her, and the betrayal written all over her face had gotten to him. He made her feel alone, and he hated himself for it. For a moment, he’d become caught in the need to remind her that no matter what happened between them, he’d always be there for her.

But he couldn’t resist touching her. He never could. He’d reached out to soothe the ache he’d caused. Then she’d leaned her head into his hand. God, he hadn’t anticipated her reacting. When she actually lifted onto her toes to kiss him back, he’d lost his mind.

His bedroom door slammed, and he flinched. The pictures on the wall between the living room and his bedroom swung side to side. A couple slid sideways and now hung off-kilter. One, which had already been dangling precariously on the tip of its nail, gave up the fight and crashed to the floor behind the couch. He didn’t need to see it to know which one it was. He’d long since memorized its place on the wall. It just so happened to be his favorite. It was a picture of him and Ceci, seated on the front porch steps of the old house she lived in. Ceci sat almost intimately between his knees, her face lit up with her smile. Becca had taken it a couple of years ago on the Fourth of July.

Another knock sounded behind him, louder and harder this time. Kyle sighed. Dealing with Ceci and somehow fixing his screwup would have to wait. He turned back to the door, drew a cleansing breath in a vain attempt not to look as frazzled as he felt, and pulled it open.

Becca and his five-year-old niece, Allie, waited on his doorstep. Although Becca wasn’t soaked, her expression reminded him of Ceci’s yesterday. The pleading in her blue eyes and the fatigue that hung on her, rounding her shoulders, said her world was ending and she wanted him to save it.

She offered a tired smile. “Morning, Ky.”

“Morning.” Disregarding his little sister for the moment, he dropped his gaze to his niece. Allie clutched a naked plastic baby doll in her left arm and smiled up at him. With big blue eyes and long sandy hair pulled up into pigtails, she looked like a smaller version of her mother. He ruffled her hair. “Hey, munchkin.”

“Hi, Uncle Kyle.” Allie’s mouth curled into a sweet smile as wide as the state of Washington right before she shoved past him into the apartment.

He couldn’t help but laugh. As cute as his niece might be, she was every bit as headstrong as her mother. Becca wouldn’t have to worry about beating the boys off when Allie was older. He’d bet money Allie would do it herself.

He turned his attention to Becca and smiled. Wearing her white karate uniform, her black sash tied neatly around her waist, the reason she’d come was obvious. She had a class and she needed him to babysit. She knew darn well he usually had the weekends off. This time, however, he wanted to hear her actually ask.

“Please?” Becca clasped her hands together and playfully batted her eyelashes. “One of my instructors quit on me yesterday, and I have to cover his classes plus mine.”

“Jackson can’t take her, huh?”

She rolled her eyes. “Jackson’s at the office. Again. God forbid the man should make time in his busy schedule for his daughter.”

Becca and her now ex-husband, Jackson, had signed the papers on their divorce barely two months before. She’d married Jackson five and a half years ago, already three months pregnant with Allie. The two couldn’t have been more different, oil and water desperate to mix. Jackson was an advertising executive from a wealthy Southern family. He was the class clown, the guy with a smile and a joke for everyone, who made friends easily and often but who kept his cards close to his chest.

Becca was always a serious person, more of a loner and more down-to-earth. Her karate had become her life. Being a tomboy, she’d never dated much, and until she’d met Jackson, she’d never been serious about any one man before. Both were entirely too headstrong. The fireworks that once fueled their relationship, though, apparently burned out. Over time, Becca became sure he’d married her out of obligation, because she was pregnant with Allie. She said he worked. All the time, often at the expense of their relationship. Right before she left him, she told Kyle she loved Jackson, but staying in a loveless marriage was breaking her heart.

Kyle wasn’t convinced the marriage was loveless. He’d seen the way Jackson looked at her. He’d felt that yearning for Ceci enough times over the last few years to know the man was in love with his wife. But Jackson hadn’t contested the divorce, and Becca was sure it meant she was right.

All Kyle knew was they were miserable with or without each other. Becca wasn’t any happier now. Malia had told him something similar at their weekly Sunday dinner two weeks ago. Not that it was his place to point that out to Becca. These days, he saw it as his role to be the supportive big brother, which meant being there to babysit when she needed him to.

He stepped back, pulling the door open wider, and Becca followed Allie into the house. Three steps in, however, she halted and cocked her head to the side. “What happened to your pictures?”

He followed her stare and sighed. He hated having to lie to yet another person he cared about. In their family, they didn’t keep secrets. They told each other everything and always had. But if he knew Becca, once she found out he’d kissed Ceci, their entire family would know by lunch. His coworkers weren’t the only ones who teased him about his relationship with Ceci. Evan insisted men and women couldn’t be “just friends.” He’d begun to think his brother was right.

He was pretty sure if his family found out, though, Ceci wouldn’t ever speak to him again. So, he shrugged, halfhearted and dismissive. “Earthquake.”

Becca rolled her eyes. “We’re in Washington, not California, smart aleck.” She arched a brow at him. “So, what happened?”

“Don’t ask.” He shook his head and reached behind him to shove the door closed.

Becca shrugged and proceeded into the living room, where she dropped onto the sofa with a world-weary sigh and closed her eyes.

Standing at the edge of the living room, he swallowed a wry laugh at the irony that was his life. His sister was about to fall asleep on his sofa. His niece had stretched out on her tummy on the floor and taken over his TV. Ceci had taken refuge in his room. Who needed dating and marriage? He had women coming out of his ears. Even his partner was a woman. A woman who’d nudged him for months now to reveal his true feelings for Ceci. Marsha would be proud of him. Too bad the kiss didn’t have the desired effect.

Becca’s eyes popped open moments later, and she abruptly sat forward, as if she’d caught herself falling asleep. “Sorry, Ky, but Malia already has the three little ones at home. I couldn’t leave Allie with her, too.”

Malia and Evan had three kids, all girls. The oldest, Alana, was in first grade, and the middle girl, Lea, had started kindergarten this year. The youngest, little Kailani was three.

“I happen to know Malia would be more than happy to take Allie.” He suppressed the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “She tells you that all the time.”

Not that he minded watching his niece. She was a great kid. She had personality by buckets full, and they always had a good time together. He could never resist giving his forceful little sister a hard time about it, though. He was a pushover, and they both knew it.

“What, like you actually have plans today or something?” She cocked a brow, but a playful grin tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“I might.” He strolled to the center of the living room and stopped, tucking his hands in his pockets.