I didn’t know what I had to offer her in return.
Becca swallowed, my gaze immediately drawn to her mouth.
“That was unexpected.”
I couldn’t fight the grin at how cute she sounded—as I remembered just how much she hated the unexpected, how she tended to want everything in her life to fit into a neat container that she could label and manage. What she called “unexpected,” I called “inevitable,” because there was no way we could be near each other, setting off the kind of sparks we did, without something catching on fire.
“Go on a date with me.”
She blinked. “Are you joking?”
I stepped forward, taking advantage of the way she just stood there, staggered, and twined my fingers through her hair, pressing my lips to hers.
“One date.”
Her mouth opened, her breath mingling with mine, her body relaxing into my embrace.
“No.” Her hands settled on my hips, holding on to me as her words pushed me away.
“Becca.”
I sucked on her bottom lip as she shuddered against me, the grip on my hips tightening, her body arching forward.
She tasted amazing. So fucking sweet. All soft curves and sex.
“Give me a chance,” I whispered against her mouth. “Please.”
She stilled and I waited, everything hanging on her answer.
“Maybe.”
One word. It wasn’t the one I wanted, but it was enough to give me hope, and considering it was probably more than I deserved, I’d take it.
“Okay.”
I held out a hand to her, feeling like the luckiest guy in the world when she slid her palm into mine, following me back inside the bar to find the rest of the group.
“Maybe” was a lot to hang everything on, but right now I clutched it in my fist, praying it wasenough.
T EN
BECCA
I woke up feeling like death had visited me sometime after I’d fallen asleep. I would have blamed the alcohol and the late night out, but I figured the brunt of it came from the congestion filling my nose and head, the ache in my throat, the watery eyes, the chills wracking my limbs.
I groaned as I studied my reflection in the bathroom mirror—taking in the pale skin, red eyes, puffy face.
Yep. I was definitely sick.
I gave up, crawling back into bed, welcoming the warmth of my sheets and the comfort of my soft mattress. I needed to get up and take some medicine, make myself tea or something, but I felt like shit and all I wanted to do was just lie in bed, every step making me dizzy and weak.
The sound of my doorbell ringing screwed that plan up.
I groaned, contemplating just ignoring it and weighing the odds of whether it was Lizzie, coming to pump me for information on what had happened with Eric last night. She’d ended up driving both of us back to Bradbury, and thesilence in the car had spoken volumes. She’d dropped me off with a meaningful look I recognized as code for
spill later
.
I had no clue what to tell her. We’d kissed and I’d sort of reached the conclusion that the likelihood of us eventually having sex was pretty much inevitable. I just wished I could parse out my feelings about the whole thing, that I could separate out the emotion and love stuff and just enjoy what he offered—really great orgasms and a lot of fun. I tried to tell myself we could do no-strings, even as we were connected by more strings than a fucking puppet.
So yeah, best friend or not, I wasn’t entirely sure I was ready to have a conversation about this with Lizzie.
The doorbell rang again and I finally gave in, grabbing my bathrobe from the foot of the bed and wrapping it around my body, running my hands through my hair, trying to get most of the tangles out.
I padded to the front door, wincing with each step. I was definitely going to give myself a big dose of cold meds and then go back to bed when Lizzie left. Maybe if I was lucky, I could convince her to make me tea, or soup, or something.
I pulled open my door, prepared for Lizzie, and got someone else instead.
Eric.
Shit.
I didn’t know what I’d done to
Becca swallowed, my gaze immediately drawn to her mouth.
“That was unexpected.”
I couldn’t fight the grin at how cute she sounded—as I remembered just how much she hated the unexpected, how she tended to want everything in her life to fit into a neat container that she could label and manage. What she called “unexpected,” I called “inevitable,” because there was no way we could be near each other, setting off the kind of sparks we did, without something catching on fire.
“Go on a date with me.”
She blinked. “Are you joking?”
I stepped forward, taking advantage of the way she just stood there, staggered, and twined my fingers through her hair, pressing my lips to hers.
“One date.”
Her mouth opened, her breath mingling with mine, her body relaxing into my embrace.
“No.” Her hands settled on my hips, holding on to me as her words pushed me away.
“Becca.”
I sucked on her bottom lip as she shuddered against me, the grip on my hips tightening, her body arching forward.
She tasted amazing. So fucking sweet. All soft curves and sex.
“Give me a chance,” I whispered against her mouth. “Please.”
She stilled and I waited, everything hanging on her answer.
“Maybe.”
One word. It wasn’t the one I wanted, but it was enough to give me hope, and considering it was probably more than I deserved, I’d take it.
“Okay.”
I held out a hand to her, feeling like the luckiest guy in the world when she slid her palm into mine, following me back inside the bar to find the rest of the group.
“Maybe” was a lot to hang everything on, but right now I clutched it in my fist, praying it wasenough.
T EN
BECCA
I woke up feeling like death had visited me sometime after I’d fallen asleep. I would have blamed the alcohol and the late night out, but I figured the brunt of it came from the congestion filling my nose and head, the ache in my throat, the watery eyes, the chills wracking my limbs.
I groaned as I studied my reflection in the bathroom mirror—taking in the pale skin, red eyes, puffy face.
Yep. I was definitely sick.
I gave up, crawling back into bed, welcoming the warmth of my sheets and the comfort of my soft mattress. I needed to get up and take some medicine, make myself tea or something, but I felt like shit and all I wanted to do was just lie in bed, every step making me dizzy and weak.
The sound of my doorbell ringing screwed that plan up.
I groaned, contemplating just ignoring it and weighing the odds of whether it was Lizzie, coming to pump me for information on what had happened with Eric last night. She’d ended up driving both of us back to Bradbury, and thesilence in the car had spoken volumes. She’d dropped me off with a meaningful look I recognized as code for
spill later
.
I had no clue what to tell her. We’d kissed and I’d sort of reached the conclusion that the likelihood of us eventually having sex was pretty much inevitable. I just wished I could parse out my feelings about the whole thing, that I could separate out the emotion and love stuff and just enjoy what he offered—really great orgasms and a lot of fun. I tried to tell myself we could do no-strings, even as we were connected by more strings than a fucking puppet.
So yeah, best friend or not, I wasn’t entirely sure I was ready to have a conversation about this with Lizzie.
The doorbell rang again and I finally gave in, grabbing my bathrobe from the foot of the bed and wrapping it around my body, running my hands through my hair, trying to get most of the tangles out.
I padded to the front door, wincing with each step. I was definitely going to give myself a big dose of cold meds and then go back to bed when Lizzie left. Maybe if I was lucky, I could convince her to make me tea, or soup, or something.
I pulled open my door, prepared for Lizzie, and got someone else instead.
Eric.
Shit.
I didn’t know what I’d done to
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