Even when the game gets going, Ella remains oddly out of it. I half expect her to leave at any moment, not because we’re playing spin the bottle, but because Ella’s the kind of person that will get riled up over the fact that Renee lied about the game. Instead, she twirls a strand of her hair around her finger, oblivious when Ethan kisses Mara.
Then Grantford takes a turn, and it’s clear he has his sights set on Ella, yet he gets stuck kissing someone else. She doesn’t even notice when Jonny spins and the bottle lands on Ethan, causing Ethan to get all squirrely and Jonny to take another turn. The only time she actually focuses on what’s going on is when Tammy gives the bottle a spin and bounces up and down excitedly when the tip points at me.
“Yes! I get Micha.” She grins at me as she gets up and turns toward me, wiggling her hips.
When I glance over at Ella, her expression is unreadable, although there’s something in her eyes that I’ve never seen before, something that makes my adrenaline pump a little faster. The longer we stare at each other, the more intense the sensation grows. While Ella knows I hook up, she’s never actually seen me kiss anyone, and I think the idea is bothering her.
“Micha, I’m over here.” Tammy snaps her fingers in front of my face. I tear my attention away from Ella and look up at Tammy. Her hands are on her hips and her eyes are flooded with irritation. “You’re supposed to be kissing me,” she says hotly then wets her lips with her tongue.
“Kissing ... yeah. Okay.” I stand up and plant probably the quickest, tongueless, sloppiest kiss in history. Then I swing around her and move to the bottle in the middle of the circle.
“What the hell, Micha?” Tammy seethes from behind me. “That so didn’t even count.”
Ignoring her protests and Renee’s scowls, I wrap my fingers around the glass bottle. I’ve played it enough that I’m fairly confident I can pull off what I’m about to do. What I’m not confident in is how Ella is going to handle.
Still, I do it.
I spin the bottle with just enough force that it goes around the circle one time and a little over, landing right on Ella.
Her eyes widen as it points to her then her gaze cuts to me. Her lips part to protest, but I quickly shrug like what are you going to do? Then I kneel down on the carpet in front of her, noting how excited I am to kiss her, like I was at fourteen. I never get this excited for a kiss. Ever. Ella’s got me two for two.
“It won’t hurt. I promise,” I feel the need to say as I lean into her because she looks absolutely horrified. Maybe I should back off. Not be so selfish. Walk away because this might be too much for her to handle.
But I want it. Badly. Want her. Even in front of a room full of people who are gawking at us like they’re about to watch a porno.
“Micha,” she whispers as I dip my lips toward hers. “I think …” She trails off as I move in closer, her chest ravenously heaving as she struggles for oxygen. Her hands come up, her fingers folding around my arms, her nails piercing into my flesh. The heat of our breaths mixes as our lips inch closer.
When only a whisper of air is left, she lets out the softest whimper that nearly sends me soaring through the roof. I place a hand on each side of her, pinning her between my arms, my fingers gripping at the carpet for support. Fuck, I haven’t even touched her yet, and my body feels like it’s going to combust.
Back away.
Don’t do it.
Stop ...
Oh, my God …
Our lips connect and her hold on me constricts, begs for me to keep her together. I want to, but I feel like I’m about to collapse myself. Because, just like that, I’m kissing my best friend. I’m kissing my best friend who I’m in love with and who might not love me back—at least, not in the same way. But I don’t care. I want to do more. I want to kiss her while laying her back and spreading open her legs so I can grind my hips against her like we were doing on the dance floor only a half an hour ago.
There’s not even any tongue to the kiss, yet it’s consuming, savoring, heart stopping. It’s a kiss I wish would last forever, but as quick as it started, it ends as Ella springs back.
“God dammit, Micha,” she curses as she turns and trips to her feet. Then she bolts out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
“Jesus, what a freak,” Tammy mutters. When I glare at her, she narrows her eyes at me. “What? She is.”
Shaking my head, I chase after Ella, disregarding Ethan’s protest to just let her cool off. By the time I make it to the living room, the crowd has doubled, and the air is so stuffy I can barely breathe. Still, I search for her in the sea of bodies, needing to find her, to fix this.
But how exactly are you going to do that?
After doing countless laps around the house, I finally stop inside the kitchen, getting discouraged. “Fuck!” I growl. Finding Ella is going to be nearly impossible with this many people around.
Pissed off at myself, I shove through the people, heading for the back door so I can go outside and smoke. Maybe a little fresh air and nicotine will clear my head. When I step out the door, though, I find exactly what I was looking for.
Ella is sitting on the icy bottom stair of the porch with a cup in her hand with her jacket off and goose bumps dot her flesh. For a brief moment, I stand at the top of the stairway, staring at her, trying to figure out what the heck to say. I’m sorry? Yeah, I don’t think so. I’m the opposite of sorry. That kiss made me realize just how much I was missing out on—behind the connection of lips, there’s supposed to be emotion, passion, heat, and intensity instead of boredom.
“What are you doing out here without a jacket.” I sink down beside her and reach for the zipper on my hoodie. “You’re going to freeze to death.”
Her body jolts from my appearance, and she drops her cup. Clear liquid spills across the snow as it rolls down the steps and into driveway. Her eyelashes flutter furiously as her gaze locks on me.
“What are you doing out here?” she asks, her breath reeking of vodka.
Jesus, what did she do, drink a whole damn bottle in the twenty minutes it took me to find her?
“I’m saving your ass from freezing.” I shuck off my jacket and drape it over her shoulders.
“I’m not cold.” It takes her a moment before she stubbornly gives in and slips her arms through the sleeves. Then she lowers her head into her hands. “Why did you do that?”