I leaned back against the couch, pulled my legs up under me, but I was still tense. We sat there in silence for a minute, the storm raging outside, the candles flickering on the coffee table. I could feel the heat of him next to me, could hear him breathing, and it was taking everything in me not to look at him.
“You remember last winter we got stuck in my crib during that ice storm?” Kade asked suddenly.
I glanced over at him. “Yeah. Why?”
“You weren’t like this then.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
Because we weren’t alone. Because his cousin had been there, passed out in the other room. “It just was,” I shot back.
He was quiet for a second, then he shifted, turning toward me slightly. His arm was still stretched along the back of the couch, and his fingers were close enough to my shoulder that Icould feel the heat of them. “You’ve been my best friend for six years,” he said.
“I know.”
“I know you better than anybody, Stormie.”
“I know that too.”
“So why the fuck does it feel like you’re tryna hide from me right now?”
My throat tightened. “I’m not.”
“Youare.” Kade’s voice was low, rough, and it sent a shiver down my spine. “Look at me.”
I turned my head, and the space between us felt impossibly small. His eyes were dark, searching mine, and I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t do anything but stare at him and wonder how we’d gotten here. “I’m not hiding,” I whispered.
“Then what are you doing?”
“I don’t know.” His fingers brushed my shoulder, and I sucked in a breath.
The rain pounded against the windows, and the wind howled. The candles flickered and danced, casting shadows across his face, and I realized I was about to lose my mind if something didn’t happen soon. But I didn’t know what to say, so I just sat there, staring at him with my heart pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it.
And he stared back, his hand still resting on my shoulder like he was waiting for me to say it. Like he already knew my pussy was throbbing.
Six fucking years. That’s how long I’d been holding back. Six years of watching Stormie move through my life like she belonged there. Six years of pretending I didn’t notice the way her body curved, the way she smelled, the way her laugh made something tighten in my chest.
Six years of keeping my hands to myself when all I wanted was to touch her. I was done pretending, though. Done acting like I didn’t want her so bad, it was making me lose my fucking mind.
Her shoulder was warm under my hand, and I could see the way her chest was rising and falling, faster now. It was like she was waiting for me to do something. Like she needed me, so I did. I slid my hand from her shoulder to the back of her neck, my fingers threading through her hair, and I pulled her toward me.
“Kade…” she started, but I cut her off.
“Six years,” I said, my voice low. “Six years I’ve been watching you watch me. You think I don’t see the way you look at a nigga?” Her eyes went wide, her lips parting, and I could see her trying to find words. “You knew,” I said. “You just didn’t wanna admit it.”
“I–”
“Tell me I’m wrong.” Storm just stared at me with her breathing shallow, and her body tense. “That’s what I thought,” I said, kissing her.
She made a sound–something between a gasp and a moan–and her hands came up to grip my shoulders. I deepened the kiss, my tongue sliding against hers, and she opened for me like she needed it as bad as I did.
I pulled back just enough to look at her, my hand still in her hair. “Tell me you want this.”
“Yes,” she breathed, Remy on her breath.
“Say it.”