Kissing Lessons Read online

  Mom and Savannah were at a movie. Beau had a landscaping gig all weekend that required a five a.m. wake-up, so he was staying in.

  There were parties going on and other friends he could be hanging out with, but Nolan wasn’t really in the mood for any of that.

  Emmaline wasn’t home either. She had texted an hour ago to say that she was spending the night at Hayden’s. Instantly he had felt a flash of disappointment. He rubbed at the center of his chest as though he could wipe away the uncomfortable feeling.

  Why couldn’t they spend the night here? Why couldn’t Hayden be under the same roof with him? Like before . . . just across the hall.

  As soon as the thought entered his mind, he gave himself a hard mental shake. Hayden wasn’t his friend. Hayden was Emmaline’s friend, and he needed to remember that.

  After an hour of channel surfing and finding nothing to hold his attention, he decided to go and get some food rather than eat the leftovers in the fridge.

  He told himself it would be good to get out of the house for a little while, and that was the reason he left. It wasn’t that he was bored or lonely or longing for something else. Someone else. It wasn’t that.

  And yet after he went through the drive-through window at Whataburger, he found himself heading toward Beau’s neighborhood, but it wasn’t Beau he was going to see. It wasn’t even his sister he was going to see.

  Clearly he was out of his mind, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the sensation of Hayden’s soft lips. That one kiss they had shared was imprinted on his brain. He couldn’t forget it.

  He parked in front of Hayden’s house and got out of the truck, carrying his bag of Whataburger. He must’ve known, at least subconsciously, that he was coming here, because inside the fast food bag were three orders of french fries, chicken fingers, and two bacon cheeseburgers. More food than even he could eat, and he had a huge appetite. His mom always complained about having to go to the grocery store every other day. It was enough for his sister, Hayden, and one extra friend. Just in case.

  He knocked on the front door, imagining Hayden looking back at him from the peephole. The lock on the other side of the door rattled and suddenly he was staring right at her. She looked so sweet his teeth ached. She wore a baggy T-shirt and a pair of spandex shorts that did amazing things for her thighs. How was she so toned without playing any sports?

  “Nolan.” She glanced beyond him, as though verifying he was alone. “Are you looking for your sister? Beau drove her home.”

  “Oh.” He looked down at the bags in his hand. “I thought y’all might be hungry.”

  “You brought Whataburger? Wow. I need a brother like you.” She stared longingly at the bags.

  He smiled uncomfortably. She thought he was here for Emmaline. He had tried to convince himself that he was here for Emmaline, too. Except now seeing Hayden, he knew the truth. This had nothing to do with his sister. He was here for Hayden.

  She continued. “Well, I could eat.” She shrugged and then nodded at the warm, grease-stained bag in his hands. “If you’re up for sharing with me?” She met his gaze, lifting her chin almost defiantly. Like she dared him to eat with her—to cross the threshold into her house.

  Another night on the couch with Hayden?

  His chest lightened and expanded, and he felt like a kid on Christmas morning. “Yeah, sure.”

  She opened the door wider and motioned him inside. Plopping down on the couch, she patted the space next to her and then leaned forward to clear off a spot on the coffee table. He joined her on the couch and started taking out the food, flattening the bags to use as plates.

  “Y’all have fun tonight?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “I guess. I think Sanjana had a little too much to drink. She’s napping on my bed. I have to take her home in an hour.”

  “How was Em—” He paused and swallowed, choosing his words carefully, trying not to come across as the overprotective brother again. “Did Emmaline have a good time?”

  She shrugged again. “I think so. She wore these ridiculous shoes that murdered her feet and some guy spilled beer all over her sweater. Keg parties aren’t really her scene, you know.”

  “I know.” He nodded.

  “She’s pretending to like it though.”

  “I don’t know why she’s forcing it. Parties like that aren’t ever going to be her thing.”

  “She’ll figure it out. Give her time.”

  He hoped so. He wanted to leave for college knowing she could take care of herself. His father would want that.

  “I mean, isn’t that adolescence? Finding yourself?” she added.

  “Is it? So, when we’re in our twenties we’ll have it all figured out?”

  “I already have it figured out. I know myself.” She smirked and gave him a challenging look that seemed to say: Can you claim the same?

  “Yeah? Good for you.” Somehow he believed her. She seemed like an adult already—more grown up than any of his friends.

  Glancing around the shabby surroundings, he wondered if she even had a mother. Of course, everyone had a mother, but was her mother actually in the picture? Was she present in her life or was Hayden raising herself? He realized he didn’t know as much about Hayden as he wanted to, and he felt a fresh stab of guilt at his earlier misconceptions about her.

  “Are parties your thing?” She propped her feet on the coffee table, stretching out her legs. “It’s Saturday night and you’re sitting here on my crappy couch eating Whataburger with me.” She foraged through the bag and stuffed a bunch of fries into her mouth and chewed, watching him.

  He shrugged. “I’ve been to my share of parties.”

  She nodded and swallowed. “Me too. But do you like parties?”

  He gave another shrug. “Sometimes it’s nice to stay in and hang out with people you like instead of talking to a bunch of strangers at a party.”

  Silence fell between them, and he replayed what he just said in his mind, what he just admitted. Sometimes it’s nice to stay in and hang out with people you like.

  So he just confessed he liked her. Okay, well, it was the truth. He didn’t regret saying it. He had never been one of those guys unable to express emotion. He was well versed in talking out his feelings.

  He slid her a glance to see how she took that admission from him.

  She was looking at him consideringly, her eyes a little heavy-lidded. Or maybe he was just imagining that—hoping he was seeing something more there.

  She leaned back against the couch. “You like hanging out with me?”

  “I’m having fun right now.” He nodded. “Being with you here. Yeah, I like it.”

  She smiled slowly, laughing lightly. “Did you come here to kiss me again, Nolan Martin?

  “Do you want me to kiss you, Hayden Vargas?”

  Still laughing, now almost soundlessly, she shook her head at him. It wasn’t a refusal precisely, more like he was too much, in a good way. He loved that he could make her laugh, that she was so easy to be with.

  “You’re single now,” she said, giving his knee a nudge. “You’re free. No more relationship worries. No more sleepless nights contemplating how you’re going to ask your girlfriend to the dance.”

  He grunted. “Yeah. That’s nice.” The dance was a few weeks away now. If they hadn’t broken up and he hadn’t asked Pris yet, the pressure would be pretty intense right now.

  “What? You don’t like dances?”

  “Dances are okay. I mean, in theory, they’re great, right? Slow dancing with someone you’re really into? I just never understood why there was so much work leading up to them. I mean, the whole dance proposal thing has gotten way out of hand. Three dances a year! And I’ve got to think up something unique every time.”

  She laughed. “God. You’re stressing me out just talking about it.”

  He chuckled. “For real. It stressed me out, too.” He waved his hands for emphasis. “Going to a dance shouldn’t be so hard.”

  “
I guess not. Too bad your girlfriend never surprised you and did the asking.”

  “Now that would have been awesome.” He couldn’t imagine Priscilla ever taking on that burden. She’d loved being on the receiving end of a promposal. He guessed that was fairly normal.

  Hayden nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a girl do a dance proposal.”

  “Neither have I,” he seconded. “That would be a nice change.”

  “Well. You don’t have to worry about it now.”

  “No, I don’t,” he agreed, feeling intensely satisfied.

  “Now you can go to parties and flirt with any girl you want and not have to worry about any of that. In fact, you could be doing that right now.”

  “I don’t want to be at a party flirting with other girls.”

  “Oh?” She arched one dark eyebrow and pointed at the center of her chest. “You only want to be here flirting with me?” She was joking. He read the glint of humor in her eyes, but it wasn’t a joke to him.

  “Yes.” He hadn’t planned to admit that, but it was the truth, and he delivered it solemnly.

  She considered him a moment. “You want me to be your rebound?”

  “Yes. N-no. That’s not what I meant.”

  Her grin widened.

  He hurriedly clarified, “You’re not a rebound. You could never be a rebound—”

  “Oh, I could be a rebound.” She snorted. “I’m pretty sure I have been before.”

  “Hayden,” he whispered. “You—”

  “Oh hush.” She turned to face him more fully on the couch, crisscrossing her legs as she dusted the salt off her fingertips, all business. “Okay, before we do this, let’s get a few things straight. This is only a rebound, nothing serious—”

  “Hayden—”

  “No,” she said sharply, holding a finger aloft. “A fling. Don’t go developing feelings for me or anything. Got that, Martin?”

  He understood her, but he didn’t like it.

  He wasn’t sure he wanted a fling anymore. This thing with Hayden was so new, and he wanted to explore it. He didn’t want to put them in a box and label it anything this soon. It might be easier calling this a fling, but he wasn’t looking for easy. He was looking for what felt right.

  She reached between them and plucked the half-eaten burger out of his hand. She peered at it. “No onions, I hope?”

  “No,” he quickly answered, watching her in fascination, forgetting about arguing with her over the definition of what they were. She was so close, so near. He didn’t want to say anything that made her pull away from him.

  “Good.” She tossed his food on the coffee table and resettled her weight on the couch in front of him, her knees overlapping his. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

  His heart started pounding in his ears, the blood rushing to his head as he looked at her. “I have never met anyone like you in my entire life.” He shook his head and exhaled a ragged breath.

  “I know. And you never will. But just remember what I said. No feelings. This is purely physical.” She shook a finger at him. “Say it. Say you understand or we’re not doing this, Martin.”

  “I understand.”

  She studied him questioningly, almost doubtfully.

  He nodded once, firmly, hoping to convey that he did understand and that he was okay with her terms . . . even if they gave him pause. They were her requirements, and he would accept them for now, because he wanted any piece of herself she was willing to share with him. He stared at her wordlessly, his gaze roaming her face.

  She moistened her lips. “All right then. Very good. So I made the first move last time. It’s your turn now. Let’s see what you got, Martin.”

  Nodding, he took a breath and then leaned in to kiss her softly, tenderly. Several times. Light kisses to her eyelids, her chin, her jaw, the corner of her lips. His thumb brushed the line of her jaw and up to her mouth.

  Holding her face in his hands, he settled his mouth on hers more firmly and kissed her slowly. He took his time. He wanted to remember it. He wanted to remember and savor every moment with her.

  Her hands came up on either side of his head, threading through his hair and holding him as he held her. Her fingers drifted, brushing his cheeks.

  He pulled back slightly so that he could look down at her.

  “What?” she whispered in a voice that trembled. It was that tremble that got to him, hinting that there was potentially more between them despite what she said. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

  “Like how?” he asked, even though he knew.

  Her face, her voice, the softness he thought he saw in her eyes, tore something loose inside him and left him feeling raw and vulnerable. It was good and scary. Scary good.

  Her mouth worked, but speech eluded her. She dropped her gaze, as though what she saw in his face was too much.

  “I’m just memorizing your face, Hayden Vargas.”

  A breath shuddered out of her, fanning his lips, and he smiled. He’d respect her terms, but he had the feeling there was more than just physical attraction between them, and maybe she was realizing that.

  She shook her head and blinked, the softness disappearing from her eyes. “You talk too much. Just kiss me, okay?”

  He reached forward and hauled her onto his lap. She came willingly, straddling him, and they kissed like that, long and deep.

  He brought a hand into the heavy mass of her bun, tumbling it loose. “Man, I love your hair,” he muttered against her mouth, running his hands through it and holding it back to keep kissing her without impediment.

  She was breathless and panting when she suddenly broke away, her eyes heavy-lidded and dazed.

  He stared back at her, one hand buried in her hair, the other still holding her face as though she were some fragile piece of crystal. His thumb trailed down her cheek. It seemed impossible that he was here with her, feeling the things he was feeling. He’d never felt anything like this . . . never anything this strong.

  He heard her voice in his head. No feelings. Purely physical.

  Yeah, too late for that.

  Lesson #27

  Don’t be afraid to take charge and ask for what you want.

  x Hayden x

  The way Nolan’s eyes slid over her warmed Hayden from the inside out. It wasn’t the kind of look she usually got. This was different. It wasn’t purely lust-filled, although there was some of that mixed in there, too. He looked at her like he . . . liked her. As though he saw more than her looks or her reputation. Damn that hand of his holding her face and damn these pesky feelings.

  She’d ordered him not to develop any feelings for her, but here she was, all melty inside when he looked at her. It wasn’t smart. Clearly she should have been warning herself. Some expert in seduction she was. Maybe she was the one who needed the lessons.

  “Why’d you stop?” she asked raggedly.

  “I like looking at you.” His gaze roamed her face as his gravelly voice rubbed like velvet on her skin. Skin that suddenly felt overly sensitive everywhere he touched her.

  He was staring at her mouth now and her face went from warm to hot. How could he do that with a look? She didn’t get it. Butterflies took off in her belly. And that’s how she knew she was in trouble. Everything that set him apart from every other boy she had ever known was what drew her to him.

  Maybe it was this giddy realization. It emboldened her. She sat up a little higher on her knees so that her chest was level with his face.

  He froze.

  Holding his gaze, she pulled her sweater over her head and tossed it to the floor, reveling in the way his eyes darkened, traveling over her in admiration. Pleasure rushed through her.

  She ran a hand over her black bra, lightly caressing one lacy cup, finally feeling like she had the upper hand. She knew she had invited him to make the first move, but she liked being in control.

  “You’re so beautiful, Hayden,” he whispered.

  “I’m j
ust a girl in a bra. I’m sure you’ve seen plenty.” This was just physical. This was just physical. She couldn’t lose perspective of that, no matter how much he unraveled her and made her feel things she had never felt. “I think you’ve seen me in less than this, like my bikini the other night. The girls practically pop out of that thing.”

  She slowly lowered back down onto his lap.

  He chuckled. “Yeah, I noticed, but that was different.” His gaze ate her up. “A lot different than this.”

  She smiled, angling her head to the side. “Hm. Not really.” She pressed a finger to his lips, enjoying touching him, enjoying the texture of his mouth. She already knew its taste. Already knew that he could kiss her until she was a quivering boneless lump.

  She lowered her head and pressed her open mouth to his neck. She licked and sucked at the salty-clean taste of his skin. He sighed beneath her, his breath rustling her hair. Sitting back up, her hands dived for the hem of his shirt. She tugged it up. He leaned forward and lifted his arms, helping her pull it over his head. The sight that greeted her punched the air right out of her chest and made her hate jocks a little less, if this was a factor of their existence.

  He was lean and hard. His torso cut and defined. Her gaze lowered to his abs. Screw six-pack. She counted under her breath. Was that eight?

  Air sawed roughly from his lips, and when she lowered her mouth to his chest, his breathing spiked a notch as she licked him.

  His hands came up to circle her waist. She let them drift until they crept toward her breasts, then she stopped him, grabbing his wrists.

  “I do the touching. You just relax.” She pushed him back on the couch, enjoying her control. Hovering over him, she felt empowered.

  She took a savoring glimpse of his face, of his dark, gleaming eyes fastened on her, before lowering her attention to his chest. She kissed the broad expanse—gentle butterfly kisses, and then long, open-mouthed moist ones.

  She inched up to his jaw and neck and blew in his ear before biting down on his earlobe. He tensed beneath her with a groan and she knew he liked it. She felt drunk, which was impossible considering she didn’t drink. It was Nolan. He muddled her head and made her blood pump like thick syrup in her veins.