Page 66 of Draft Pick
“Crew,” I whisper.
He leans forward. Not by much, but enough to send my heart rate skyrocketing. “It’s Hugh. Remember?”
I gulp, nodding slowly. Our faces are less than a foot away, every decadent dessert imaginable surrounding us, and yet his plush lips and serene hazel eyes are all I see.All I feel.
Tenderness.My feelings for Crew are far deeper than infatuation. They’re tender and organic. He was never just my friend. Not when my feelings are this profound.
“Right. Yes. Hugh,” I sigh. “What now?”
“We’re gonna play a game. I’ll make it quick. It has to be quick,” he rushes, leaving me no choice but to follow. Not like he’d have to drag me.
“Okay. Let’s play.”
“Truth or dare,” he states, not asking me, but I seem to have missed that.
“Da—” I start to answer, but he beats me to it, anxious to get somewhere. Thewherepart is what I’m still not sure about.
“Ask me truth or dare, Doc.”
I hear nothing but my own heartbeat. “Truth or dare?” I’m pretty sure that came out as a whimper, Crew’s tone decreasing in volume.
“Truth.”
“Okay…” I draw out, thinking of a question, but don’t dare move away. Not when the most handsome man in the world has his undivided attention on me.
Too bad he doesn’t give me a chance. “I want to kiss you more than I’ve ever wanted anything. There. That’s my truth.”
Oh my.“I…I…” I stutter, searching for the words to best express how immensely I want that too. But I’m not sure I should.
“Your turn,” he insists, my body buzzing as his forefinger meets the side of my cheek and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Pick dare, Lavender.”
Everything about this game is childish, but right now none of that matters. There’s no golden standard to follow when it’s just us.
Lavender.My pretend name. Between Addie and Crew, I’ve got loads of them. But right now, in this very moment, we’re no longer us. We’re Lavender and Hugh. Rules don’t apply.
“Dare.”
“I dare you to kiss me. Kiss me and please don’t stop.”
I think I’ve waited my whole life to be kissed by Crew Briggs. The moment our lips crash, I can confidently say I’ve experienced thirty-two years of subpar kisses. His velvety groan bounces between our lips while two large hands tangle between the strands of my hair.
Our kiss is passionate. So passionate I could burst into tears.
There’s pain in wanting someone you can never have so badly. And then I’m learning quickly that when you finally have them, nothing will ever compare to that feeling.
“God, Juniper,” he moans, our tongues tangling together, pulling closer and closer. It’s not enough, and Crew thinks so, too, shoving the desserts between us across the table in one forceful swipe. The crash is nothing compared to our need to cling to each other. Tears well in my eyes, but I don’t bring attention to them. I just want to be present in this moment with him.
With my patient’s father.
My great friend.
And the man I earnestly want.
As if the butterflies in my stomach weren’t already out of control, Crew leads his kiss to the side of my mouth, peppering kisses down my cheek. My neck, my ear, and all the way back to the smile lines beside my eyes accept his intentional adoration. That’s what it feels like. “I’m crazy about you, and I know I shouldn’t be.”
“We can’t,” I mutter breathlessly.
“I know. Fuck,” he exhales, forehead falling to my shoulder. I stroke the planes of his back, equal parts appreciative and saddened that this may be the last time I get to openly touch him without reservation. Without eyes on us, knowing we won’t work. Shouldn’t work.Can’twork.
