Page 286 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet

“Owen, are you ever going to kiss me?” River pleads, and I just smile against his skin. Smile, because I’m so damn thrilled he wants me the same way.

“Patience,” I whisper.

“It’s hard to be patient when you’re so good at that,” he rasps out.

Prides suffuses me, filling every cell in my body. I pull my gaze back for a second, our eyes locking. River looks as lost in lust as I am, eyes hazy, cheeks flushed, desire written all over him.

At last, I speak the words aloud to him that define my heart.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for years,” I say, and I don’t give him a chance to register the enormity of my confession. Since at last, my lips brush his, and everything—just everything—in the whole universe fades away.

Our lips meet and I know in my soul there has never been a first kiss like this.

This is why people kiss.

For this possibility.

This potent connection.

Our lips slide together, and I taste him. Enjoy him.

I intend to savor every single second of this kiss and this night. I want to live in it, without consequence. To roll around in this perfect kiss as his lips explore mine, as his hands roam over my ass, as he tugs me against him like he can’t get close enough either.

I want it all to last, because I am so deeply in love with River already, and I hope, I truly hope, he doesn’t break my heart.

But soon, I’m no longer thinking about my heart.

I’m only feeling.

We kiss for ages in the kitchen. Not stopping. I’m not even able to stop. Just lips and teeth and tongues and heat. I have no will to end this kiss. So I don’t even try. I take more and more, consuming my friend’s kisses, gobbling them up, loving them completely.

Then asking for more.

Asking with my lips, with my tongue, with my whole body.

I grind my pelvis against his, rubbing our hard-ons together, making him grunt and me groan.

Our lips keep crashing back and with every single kiss I’m feeling so many things at once—lust, heat, desire. And a wildly intense need to show him just how good I can be to him.

When I said those words in the car, I meant as a boyfriend. I meant I’d be good to a man outside of the bedroom.

But in my book, boyfriends should also be very good to each other when clothes come off.

That’s a privilege—to make someone else feel incredible in bed. That’s something I’m dying to do for him.

So when I break the kiss, I slide a hand down his chest on a fast track for his cock. I cover the ridge of his erection with my palm, then squeeze.

“Umm, you cocktease,” River moans.

I laugh lightly. “I’m only a tease if I don’t go through with it.”

He jerks me closer, lifts his chin. “And what do you want to go through with?”

I press a hot, quick kiss to his lips, then pull back. “I’d really like to get on my knees for you and suck your cock.”

River unbuttons his jeans, slides down the zipper, and takes me up on my offer.

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