Betty’s POV
The popcorn tasted stale, but Brent didn’t seem to care. He lounged beside me, his arm draped lazily over my shoulders like he belonged there.
The movie played in the background, but neither of us was watching it. His lips were soft against mine, his kisses deliberate and coaxing. His hands roamed, slipping beneath my shirt to skim over my waist, his touch igniting sparks that made me forget how to breathe.
I pulled back abruptly, reaching for the popcorn bowl and tossing a kernel at him.
“Popcorn?” he asked, catching it mid-air with his mouth and crunching down.
“You’re welcome,” I said, trying to catch my breath.
But Brent wasn’t done. Before I could reach for another piece, he leaned in, his hand gently cupping my jaw as he brought his lips to mine again.
“You’ve got to stop,” I murmured, my words muffled against his mouth.
He chuckled, the sound low and teasing. “Make me,” he said, his voice rough with challenge.
And then he kissed me hard, his hand tangling in my hair as his body pressed closer. His kisses were unrelenting, a mixture of tenderness and hunger. When his lips trailed down my neck, heat pooled in my stomach, spreading like wildfire as his mouth dipped lower to the edge of my tank top.
I gasped as his fingers traced along the strap, slipping it off my shoulder. His lips followed, pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses to the newly exposed skin. The thin, almost-transparent fabric of my tank top did little to hide the way his touch made my body react.
“Brent,” I whispered, the word turning into a moan as his hand brushed against the curve of my breast.
He responded with a groan of his own, his breath hot against my skin as his kisses grew bolder.
And then my phone rang.
The sound jolted both of us, shattering the moment.
Brent groaned, his forehead dropping to my shoulder. “Don’t answer it.”
I hesitated, torn between ignoring it and the slight thrill of being needed somewhere else. My phone buzzed insistently in my pocket.
“I have to,” I said reluctantly, pushing him away.
He sighed dramatically, sitting back as I fished out my phone and glanced at the screen. It was a video call from Stacey.
“Go brew us some coffee,” I told him with a wink, trying to steady my voice as I swiped to answer.
Brent rolled his eyes but stood, muttering, “This better be important,” as he disappeared into the kitchen.
Stacey’s face popped onto the screen, her sharp eyes narrowing instantly. “Are you not wearing a bra?”
I looked down at myself and cursed under my breath. My wet hair was still plastered to my neck, and my tank top clung to every curve in a way that left nothing to the imagination.
“I—uh—” I stammered.
“Oh my God,” Stacey said, leaning closer to her screen. “What are you doing?”
“Watching a movie!” I said quickly, my cheeks flaming.
Stacey raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Sure. A movie.”
I wanted to die.