He must have read the question in my eyes because he took my hand and kissed my palm. And it wasn’t a friendly, let’s be BFFs kiss. No, it was I want to throw you down and have my way with you kiss. He kissed it with an open mouth, the pressure of his soft lips and the heat from his tongue making me fall toward him.

He threaded our fingers together and gazed down at me, his eyes hot. “I’m going to kiss you, Dovey. You good?”

Was I? No idea. But I nodded.

He tilted my face up to his and kissed me, his mouth fitting over mine easily and, of course, expertly. This was Spider, and he’d been with countless girls, filling a void I didn’t understand.

His hands encircled my nape as his tongue coaxed my mouth to open, the pressure hesitant and easy as if he were afraid I’d pull away. I sighed, liking the sweetness, getting lost a little in playing with his stud, rolling it around, experimenting. Kissing him didn’t make my heart fly like Cuba’s first kiss had, but there was something to be said for kissing someone who you knew cared for you.

He pulled me on top of him as he stretched out on the couch, and we fit. His hardness against my stomach created an ache in me, reminding me of the emptiness I felt. I sank into him deeper, and he groaned, his hands working my shirt up, until his fingers reached the front snap of my bra. In seconds, he had the clasp undone, my grey tunic and pink lace bra off and over my head. I sensed more than saw him toss my things over the couch.

He had some lightening moves.

“I’ve been wanting this…you…for so long,” he said, cupping breasts and kissing across my jaw line, whispering sexy words, and I whispered words back, feeling into the moment, surprised by the slow burn but going with it.

And he was surprisingly gentle. Most of the time when I’d watched him interact with girls, I got the impression he wasn’t a tender lover, that he took what he wanted hard and fast. I’d always suspected he fucked, not made love. But, maybe I was wrong.

We escalated faster than I wanted. But, he felt good against me, especially when he whipped his shirt off, the searing touch of his chest against mine making me pant. I kissed him harder, my tongue searching for his, needing him.

See, I tried to convey with my lips, I do not still love Cuba.

And I didn’t. Cuba was long gone. Yesterday’s news.

Yet, in the middle of our kiss, I pictured Cuba and Emma at some place like Babies R Us. I tried to push the image away, but it kept resurrecting itself over and over. Them oohing and ahhing over cute baby clothes, taking a Lamaze class together, pushing a stroller. My stomach roiled.

“Open your eyes,” Spider said, his hands framing the sides of my face, his thumbs against my cheeks almost painful. I shook my head and buried it in his shoulder and bit his neck, finding his erratic pulse and sucking on it. He smelled good, clean and woodsy and yet not quite right.

I whispered to him again and again and…

“Dovey,” a voice snapped. “Look at me.”

I didn’t want to. I didn’t. I decided I wouldn’t. I rotated my hips against his, making him hiss and let out a string of curses. Was this a good idea flitted through my mind, but oh, I didn’t care about that, because he was hard and I was soft, and I wanted to feel good about something. I wanted to forget about Sarah’s illness and Cuba’s baby. I wanted to forget about all the shit floating around in my head.

I put my hands on his crotch and stroked hard, letting him know I meant business. He stiffened, groaned and said my name, and it sounded beautiful and sweet, like a benediction. And because I loved the sound of my name on his lips, I said his name. Over and over and over…

Then his voice changed, getting shrill. He shoved me off him, pushing until my bare back bounced off the couch, and I slid onto the carpet. My eyes blared open, my desire cooling at the anger in his eyes.

“What? Isn’t that what you wanted?” I scrounged around on the floor, found my shirt and pulled it on. The bra was MIA. Great. My favorite one. I didn’t doubt for a second he’d add it to his collection later.

He snapped off the couch and paced around, a tinge of unbalance in his jerky movements. “You have no idea what just happened, do you?” he said, snatching up his beer and guzzling it.

I shrugged. “We were making out and—”

“You called me Cuba, Dovey! You kissed me and called me his bloody name. Complete cluster-fuck.”

“Not possible.” But had I? For the life of me, I couldn’t remember what I’d said. “You misunderstood.”

“I’m not deaf,” he said. “Nor am I stupid.”

I rubbed my hand over my swollen mouth. I had been thinking of Cuba, comparing their kisses.

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting? It was a slip-up—”

“You were thinking about him the whole time,” he interrupted, pulling at his spiked hair, seeming to be talking to himself more than to me.

Now that wasn’t true.

“You’re overacting,” I said, feeling defensive. And sad. I wanted to forget Cuba.

“I’m not,” he said. “Your eyes follow him everywhere he goes. He shit on you, and you still want him.” He raised his hands up over his head and yelled, “I hate the way you rip me up inside.”

My ire rose, taking over my mouth. “I thought you were my friend. Was your friendship all pretend? Was I the only girl who didn’t give you what you wanted, Spider? Is that why you hung around for four years?” I seethed. “Fine, you wanna fuck? Let’s do it. Let’s taint ourselves with meaningless sex between friends. So what if I’m just one in a long line of girls. Because next month, you’ll be hot for someone else. And our friendship will be ruined.”

His color rose and veins popped out along his temple. He closed the distance between us and pulled me back into his arms, but this time his face was all wrong, hard and angry.

“Stop,” I said, twisting around trying to get some space between us. “Let me go.”

“Not until you admit you have feelings for me,” he said tightly.

I just stared at him, not understanding his emotion. It was a damn slip-up for goodness sakes. It didn’t mean anything.

“Why are you so angry?”

“I’m angry because I fucking love you,” he shouted. “And you’re too caught up in Cuba to notice.”