Page 60 of Best Friends for Never

“I’m so . . . so . . .”

“I know, Parker. I know.”

And I do know because I feel it too. I’m as close as she is, only I don’t have the luxury of coming right now—but fuck if I don’t want to. My cock is straining against the zipper of my pants. It’s the hardest I’ve ever been, and I know it’s purely because of Parker and the little sounds she’s making right now as she takes what she wants from me.

Her body tenses, and it’s the only warning I have before she clutches my jacket tighter and comes undone around me.

I fuck her through her orgasm, letting her ride my hand the whole way through until the last shudder subsides and she’s nothing but a shaking mess as she tries to catch her breath.

I kiss her lips, chin, jawline, and neck. I kiss her everywhere I can because I’m not ready to be done touching her yet. It’s not enough, and I fear it will never be with her.

“Noel ...,” she whispers as I nip lightly at her neck. “I—”

“Parker!”

The door bursts open, and I barely catch it before it smacks against me.

I let it close as Fran comes barreling into the stairwell, and I remove my hand from between Parker’s legs, shifting in front of her to shield her from our intruder.

“Parker!” she calls. “Park— Oh.” She stops, looking right at me. “Noel. Have you seen ...” Her mouth drops open when she realizes that Parker is tucked against me. “Parker.”

The woman in question pokes her head around me. “Hi, Fran.”

The pie shop owner’s cheeks grow redder by the second. “Hi, Parker. I, uh, I was just coming to let you know that we’re getting started on the bidding. You know, in case you wanted to give the opening remarks.”

“Right. I’ll ... I’ll be out in a moment.”

“Of course. I’ll just, um ...” Fran points out to the party. “I’ll be there. I’ll stall.”

“Thank you,” Parker says.

Fran gives me one last long glance as she pulls open the door just enough to squeeze through, then disappears.

The door clicking shut sounds like a shotgun in a small room—deafening and meaningful.

Parker pushes lightly against me, and I reluctantly release my hold on her, stepping back so she has just enough room to shimmy her dress back into place. She brushes against me with every movement, and I relish it.

When she’s finally done, she looks at me for the first time.

“That was . . .”

“Yes?” I ask.

“Unexpected.”

I don’t think you can call ten years of waiting unexpected, but I don’t tell her that. I brush her long auburn hair back from her face, tucking the strands back behind her ear as they were before I mussed them up.

“Do I look okay?” she asks softly. “Is my lipstick ...”

“Completely gone and likely all over me? Yes.”

She chews on her bottom lip. “I don’t have my purse in here.”

“It’s okay. I’ll sneak off to the bathroom.”

She nods, blowing out a long exhale before pointing to the door. “I should probably ...”

“You should,” I tell her.

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