The green Heineken bottle slows, just passing Nate and Hollis. It nearly lands on Jesse Wilkes’s girlfriend Katie. It spins another fraction of an inch, glides to a stop. And points directly to the living room doorway.
At me.
15
Summer
And this is why games like Spin the Bottle and 7 Minutes in Heaven stopped being cool after middle school.
Because when you’re twelve and thirteen, you’re allowed to kiss random boys without worrying about the consequences.
When you’re an adult, there are always consequences.
For example, if I have to kiss Colin Fitzgerald right now? Everyone in this room is going to see how hot I am for the guy.
“Let me spin again,” I blurt out. “Fitz isn’t even playing.”
Katie, a pretty redhead with a wide Julia Roberts-esque mouth, wags a finger at me. “No way! I just had to kiss Hollis—in front of my boyfriend!”
“I wasn’t threatened,” Jesse says easily. “I mean, it’s Hollis.”
“Hey,” Mike protests.
“That’s not the point,” Katie argues. “All I’m saying is, you kiss whoever the bottle points to. No exceptions.”
My gaze shifts to Fitz. He’s sporting what I like to call Exploding Ovaries attire—gray sweatpants that ride oh-so-low on his trim hips, and a tight white T-shirt that shows off his tattooed arms. This fucking guy. He’s a total ten.
Actually, let’s make that a nine. I’m deducting one point for the fact that he looks like he wishes he could hop into a transporter and teleport to Siberia.
His less than enthused expression raises my hackles. Really? The idea of kissing me is sooooo repulsive to him? After our showdown earlier this week when I called him out on his nastiness, he should be clamoring to curry favor with me.
Asshole should be begging to kiss me.
Fitz inches backward. “I’m, ah, gonna grab some food.”
From the other end of the couch, Hunter drawls, “Good idea.” His tone is light, but there’s a hint of darkness behind it.
Like me, Hunter hadn’t seemed too pumped to play this game, although I didn’t see him complaining when he got to French the insanely hot Arielle ten minutes ago. Arielle’s the only other single chick here. Katie and Shayla are both taken, but apparently their boyfriends (Jesse and Pierre, respectively) don’t mind sharing their girlfriends for the sake of the game.
“Freeze!” Katie orders when Fitz tries to take a step.
He freezes.
“I’m sorry to have to break it to you,” she informs him, “but Summer will be kissing you now.”
Oh my God. Where’s Brenna when you need her? If she were here, she never would’ve allowed Katie and Arielle to convince us to play this silly game. Brenna would’ve laughed in their faces and challenged everyone to a shot contest instead, which I’m sure would’ve resulted in lots of kissing anyway. Just not on-the-spot, being-forced-to-kiss kissing.
But nope, Brenna had other plans. Bitch.
“I’ll spin again,” I insist. At this point, I’ll gladly kiss anyone else, even Hollis. Or one of the girls.
To my shock, Hollis sides with Katie. “Naw, babe, a rule’s a rule.” My reluctant, unhappy expression only hardens his resolve. “This’ll be good for you guys.” He glances toward the doorway, where Fitz is frowning at him. “All you two do is fight. Time to kiss and make up.”
Aggravation rises inside me. “Come on, Hollis.”
“See! Even better,” Katie says happily. “You two need to clear the air.”
“With your tongue,” the dark-haired Arielle agrees solemnly.
Nate, the captain of the hockey team, snorts in amusement. Why can’t I kiss him, dammit? He’s tall and built and has amazing, vivid blue eyes.
Before I can blink, Katie is tugging on my hand. My jaw drops as the tiny redhead, who can’t be more than five feet tall, muscles me onto my feet and gives me a little shove.
“You are freakishly strong,” I growl down at her. And I do mean down—I’m almost a head taller than this girl, yet she’s still able to manhandle me.
She grins. “I know.”
Fitz’s wary gaze sweeps the room. “How drunk are you guys, exactly?” He raises a brow at his team captain. “Since when do we play kissing games?”
Nate shrugs and lifts his beer bottle. “Only live once, right?” he says easily.
“All right, babes.” Katie claps her hands. “Kiss and make up.”
I give an outraged squeak when there’s another hard push on my back. I stumble forward, and I’m two seconds from smacking my nose on the doorframe before Fitz’s strong hands steady me.
His touch sends a bolt of heat through my body, and my breath catches in my throat when I notice that his eyes have softened. Actually, no. They may have lost their hard edges, but they’re certainly not soft. They’re heavy-lidded now, gleaming with unexpected heat.
Then he blinks, and the fire is replaced by exasperation.
“Let’s just do this so they shut up,” he murmurs so only I can hear. “She won’t let it go.”
He means Katie, and I think he might be right. Tonight’s my first time meeting her, but within five seconds of being introduced, I concluded that she’s a bossy little firecracker. Don’t get me wrong, she’s fun. But I feel like if you’re friends with Katie, she always has the final say about everything.
“Fine,” I murmur back. “No tongue.”
I see the merest hint of a smile. “No promises.”
I barely have time to process the unexpected teasing remark before Fitz cups my chin with one big hand. I vaguely register a loud whistle—I think it comes from Hollis. And then it gets drowned out by my pounding heartbeat as Fitz’s lips gently touch mine.
Oh.
Oh wow.
I didn’t expect him to start off so tender. In front of everyone. But he does. His thumb sweeps over my cheek as his mouth moves ever so slowly over mine. He’s got the softest lips I’ve ever felt, and he uses them with confidence. I shiver when he increases the pressure, sealing his lips tight to mine. And then the tip of his tongue slicks over my bottom lip, and I jolt as if I stuck my finger in a live socket.
The moment our tongues touch, I’m gone. A low hum of desire buzzes between my legs, crackling up to my breasts and hardening my nipples. I completely surrender to his kiss. I let his tongue sweep into my mouth. I let his fingers dig possessively into my waist, his warm breath to heat my mouth, his sexy scent to infuse my senses.
I can’t stop myself—I press one hand to his rock-hard chest. The other, I curl around the nape of his neck. The baby-fine hairs there tickle my palm. His left pec quivers beneath my palm, and I can feel his heartbeat. It’s hammering as fast as mine.
When I feel him start to pull away, a frantic, helpless sensation surges through me. I tighten my grip on his neck and kiss him harder. My tongue tangles with his, and I swallow the husky sound he makes. I hope nobody else heard it.
Because that beautiful desperate sound belongs to me. It’s all mine. I want to memorize the seductive resonance and replay it over and over again later, when I’m lying alone in bed, when my hand slides between my legs as I touch myself to the memory of this kiss.