Best Friends With the Billionaire(15)

But this wasn’t a woman he was dating. This was Cassie, for God’s sake. She was his best friend, not some random date he could feel up in the dark.

He broke off the kiss abruptly and tore his hands away from her. She was pressed up against the wall, hair coming down, lipstick smudged, eyes as big as saucers, lips parted as she panted for breath.

His heart squeezed as terror shook him. Oh Christ, what had he done to Cassie?

“I’m sorry.” The words jerked out of him. He sucked in a desperate breath and rubbed the back of his neck as he fought for self-control.

“For what?” she whispered.

“For…everything.” The self-control was taking a while to return. He stepped back, feeling horribly off-balance. “For taking advantage of you. I didn’t mean to kiss you. It’s just that”—he thrust his fingers through his hair—“Shit, I don’t know. Maybe I’m a pig.”

She swallowed several times, as if she had trouble composing herself, too. “Y-you’re not a pig.”

Her hair was all tangled around her flushed cheeks, her lips looked like crushed strawberries, and all he wanted was to hoist her into his arms and carry her upstairs to his bed, where he’d unwrap that sparkly dress from her and kiss every inch of her body. Heat throbbed in him; his erection strained against his zipper.

Yes, he was a pig. A damned stupid pig, too. Cassie was driving him wild with her unexpected sexiness, but he couldn’t risk their friendship. If he’d learned one thing from his calamitous marriage and his serial dating, it was that love was a chimera, always tricking him. Love wasn’t for him. The women he took to his bed knew they were only hooking up for a brief time, that they would soon part ways without any false promises on either side. But how the hell could he do that to Cassie? Impossible. Unthinkable. No way could he treat her like one of his casual hookups. Her friendship meant too much to him.

“It won’t happen again,” he said—loudly, harshly, as if he needed to convince himself.

A look of hurt bewilderment hovered on Cassie’s face. Shit, what had he done? Had he wounded her already? He turned away from her, unable to witness the effects of his carelessness. He had to get away from her before he said something stupid, or worse, kissed her again.

…

Growing dismay filled Cassie as Kirk walked away from her, his back and shoulders rigid.

Don’t blow it. Don’t blow it. For God’s sake don’t blow this.

The refrain echoed in her head, pounding louder and louder in time with her heart, but damn it she couldn’t figure out her next move. The sparkling shock and delight he’d triggered with his kiss was ebbing away, overtaken by a fog of indecision and fear.

How many years had she waited for Kirk to take notice of her? Well, she hadn’t exactly waited because she’d never dared to hope. She’d resigned herself to forever being his buddy, which wasn’t a bad thing at all because it still meant she got to see him.

But now finally the unthinkable had happened. Somehow she’d gotten through to him. For the first time ever Kirk had looked at her as a woman—a desirable woman—and his scorching hot kisses had been beyond her imaginings.

But as quickly as the storm had broken, it had blown over. Kirk had pulled away. Apologized for his animal behavior. Didn’t he realize how insulting that was to her?

And now he was walking away from her, and it seemed this wonderful, precious moment would become something embarrassing they’d never mention again—unless she said something. Quickly. Now.

She cleared her throat. Her voice rose, wobbly but determined. “Why do you get to decide what does and doesn’t happen between us?”

Kirk stopped in his tracks. He spun around, his expression wary. “Excuse me?”

She followed him into the living room, her stomach a seething mass of butterflies. She couldn’t let him see how nervous she was. Pausing, she flicked back her hair in a way she hoped conveyed confidence.

“You heard me,” she said, resting one hand on her hip, smoothing down the rumpled material of her dress with the other. “We’re both adults, equals. Why is it up to you whether we kiss or not?”

He muttered something under his breath as a furrow appeared between his eyes. “Cassie, it’s a bad idea.” He spoke like he was explaining something to a child. “We’re friends. Good friends. We’ve been friends for years, and I want to continue being friends long into the future. We can’t kiss.”

“Because it’ll ruin our friendship?”

“Exactly.”

“Do you compartmentalize everyone in your life? One section for the people you kiss, another section for your friends, and never the twain shall meet?”

“I think that’s best.”

“Well, I don’t have such strict rules. When I do my laundry, I mix colors with whites, and as long as I set the temperature correctly it all seems to come out fine.”

The furrow on his forehead deepened. “This isn’t a joking matter, Cassie.”

“But it’s not life and death, either.” She swallowed, her confidence wavering at the sight of his closed off expression. When Kirk made up his mind, he stuck to it. He could be so stubborn at times, but somehow she had to convince him. She took a couple of steps toward him, her feet unsteady in the unfamiliar heels. “In fact, by kissing me you’re doing me a favor.”

His blue-gray eyes narrowed on her. “How so?”

“You’re helping me get over…over Russell.”

“Your ex?”

She crossed her fingers behind her back as she nodded. “Uh-huh. You’re like my rebound guy. You know, the one who helps me forget about my ex.”

She hesitated as Kirk looked her over, his expression unreadable. Her heart began to patter as he stepped toward her. There was something quite deliberate and forceful about his movements, something that made her breath catch.

He leaned in, his breath feathering her face. “If you want me as your rebound guy, we need to get one thing straight.”

“W-what’s that?” She gulped, not sure if she was ready for his answer.

His voice lowered to a molasses-dark growl. “I’m going to kiss you until you don’t remember your own name, let alone anyone else’s.”

The heat in his eyes seared through her, setting her senses dancing. She was responsible; she had lit this fire in him. She was the reason for his hunger. The realization made her almost faint.

“You got that, Cassie?”

His gruff voice sent a thrill down her spine. Speechless, airless, motionless, she nodded.

He closed in on her. She was a match for him in height, but in everything else that mattered—weight, intent, sexual experience—he had her over a barrel. By the flaring look of him, she expected him to crush her in his arms, but instead he cupped her face in both hands, thumbs caressing her cheeks before he kissed her again—a controlled kiss this time, firm and deliberate, yet gentle, too, showing her his powerful restraint.

She surrendered to the emotions surging over her, helpless against the longing she’d bottled up for so long. The years of denial had aged that longing to a potent liquor that went straight to her head. As she savored the warmth of his mouth and tongue, she slid her hands under his jacket and up and over his chest. Countless times she’d fantasized about touching him like this, and now her dream was coming true. Through the fabric of his shirt, she explored the muscled wall of his chest and the power in his torso. Dazed with delight, she pushed the jacket off his shoulders, and he obliged by shrugging it off and letting it fall to the floor.

His kisses became more hot and urgent, the control slipping away as he ran his hands over her back and hips. Desire gathered between her legs, aching and swollen. She couldn’t get close enough to him. She lifted one leg, the slit in her dress accommodating her, and wrapped it round his hip.

His hand moved instantly to her leg, fingers clamped around her flesh. “Cassie, that’s some leg you have.” He pushed his hand higher up her thigh and found her naked flesh above the stockings. He let out a groan. “Jesus, you’re wearing a garter belt.”

“Yeah,” she panted. “You told me to dress up.”

He stroked her thigh before exploring farther. His fingers stilled on her bare ass cheek. “And a thong.” He sounded strangled.

She was so short of breath it was a few seconds before she could answer. “This—this dress shows off everything. I didn’t want a VPL.”

“Stockings, garter belt, and a thong. You’re killing me here, Cassie.”

“Just so you know, I don’t make a habit of it.” The thong was the worst; it felt like she was wearing dental floss.

“Thank Christ, or I’d never be able to concentrate on anything else.”

He kissed her again, his mouth hungry and demanding while his hand squeezed her bare butt. She flitted her tongue across his, loving the erotic dance. His hand roved over the back of her thighs, sending desire shuddering through her. If he shifted his fingers between her legs she wouldn’t be able to disguise how wet she was for him.

A whisper of doubt clouded her desire. Was she prepared to show Kirk exactly how desperate she was for him? She was supposed to be acting cool and adult over this sudden change between them. She was only kissing him to help her forget about her ex. This was meant to be light and casual making out, not foreplay before an all-out sex orgy. If Kirk found out how turned on she was, he might guess that this was serious for her. She couldn’t let that happen. Alarm darted through her. Panic took over.