I hear a tortured whimper, and I’m startled to realize it came from me. I’m desperate to feel his mouth on mine again. I thrust one hand in his hair to bring him back to where I want him, but the dark strands are too short to grab onto. All I can do is pull his head forward, which summons a low chuckle from him.
“Is this what you want?” he rasps, and then his lips find mine, and he thrusts that talented tongue into my mouth again.
A moan leaves my throat at the exact moment the bedroom door swings open.
“Hey, G, I need to borrow a—”
Dean grinds to a halt.
With a squeak of horror, I tear my mouth away from Garrett’s and shoot to my feet.
“Oops. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” Dean’s grin takes up his entire face, and his twinkling green eyes make my cheeks scorch.
I snap back to reality faster than you can say biggest mistake ever. Holy shit. I’ve just been caught making out with Garrett Graham.
And I was enjoying it.
“You’re not interrupting,” I blurt out.
Dean looks like he’s fighting back laughter. “No? Because it sure seems like it.”
Despite the tight knot of embarrassment lodged in my throat, I force myself to glance at Garrett, silently pleading for backup, but his expression catches me off guard. Deep intensity and a flash of annoyance, but the latter is directed at Dean. And thrown into the mix is something akin to fascination, as if he can’t believe what he and I just did.
I can’t believe it either.
“So this is what you two do when you’re up here,” Dean drawls. “All that deep, intensive tutoring.” He air-quotes the last word, chuckling in delight.
His teasing irks me. I don’t want him thinking that Garrett and I are…involved. That we’ve been fooling around for the past week behind everyone’s backs.
Which means I have to nip his suspicions in the bud. ASAP.
“Actually, Garrett’s just helping me brush up on my make-out skills,” I tell Dean in the most casual voice I can muster. At this point, telling the truth is far less humiliating than letting his imagination run wild, but the confession sounds insane when I utter it out loud. Yep, just honing my kissing skills with the captain of the hockey team. No biggie.
Dean snickers. “’That so?”
“Yes,” I say firmly. “I have a date coming up and your friend here thinks I don’t have any moves. Trust me, we’re not into each other. At all.” I realize that Garrett still hasn’t said a single word, and I turn to him for confirmation. “Right, Garrett?” I ask pointedly.
He clears his throat, but his voice is still gravelly as hell when he speaks. “Right.”
“Okay…” Dean’s eyes gleam. “Then I’m calling your bluff, baby doll. Show me your moves.”
I blink in surprise. “What?”
“If a doctor told you you’ve got ten days to live, you’d go for a second opinion, wouldn’t you? Well, if you’re worried about being a crappy kisser, you can’t just take G’s word for it. You need a second opinion.” His brows lift in challenge. “Let me see what you’ve got.”
“Stop being a jackass,” Garrett mutters.
“No, he has a point,” I answer awkwardly, and my brain screams, What?
He has a point? Apparently Garrett’s body-melting kisses have turned me into a crazy person. I’m shaken up and confused, and most of all, I’m worried. Worried that Garrett will know I…what? That I’d never been so turned on from a kiss before? That I loved every second of it?