Page 167 of The Friend Situation

“That’s right, Mawmaw.”

Weston glances at me with his brows knitted together.

“If you need more firewood, the storage shed is full. Hudson took care of it for me yesterday. Good night, lovebirds.”

“Good night, Mawmaw,” Weston replies with a warm smile.

“See y’all bright and early,” she says, squeezing our shoulders.

Moments later, she shuffles down the long hallway in her house slippers. Her bedroom is on the opposite end of the house, and I barely hear her door click shut.

My mind buzzes from family overload.

“So, we’renotsharing a bed?” Weston asks, his disappointment evident.

“I completely forgot about that,” I admit, feeling annoyed by the idea of him not being by my side while we’re here.

The fireplace roars, and we both stare into the flames. His arm wraps around my shoulders, pulling me closer against him. I find myself lost in thought, entranced by the dance of the flames as the fresh wood crackles and pops.

“They like you,” I whisper, relaxing into him.

“I hope so.” His fingers gently trace the outside of my arm as he holds me.

“Weston,” I say, turning to face him.

No more words escape me. His lips crash against mine with a hunger that feels both exhilarating and inevitable. We’re losing control, and I want to embrace it. He lays me back against the couch as I wrap my arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. I laugh against his kisses. We’re breathless and alive. It feels like I’ve been born again.

“You smell so damn good,” he murmurs against my skin, his cock hard against me.

“She’s still awake,” I mutter, tugging his lips between my teeth, craving him more than I crave air. “If she catches us …”

“Ineedyou,” Weston confesses, his voice low and urgent.

“I need you too.” My eyes roam over him, and I realize we’re on the same page, our desires intertwining like words in a shared story.

“You drive me crazy.” His cock grinds against me.

“Weston,” I gasp, “please.”

He chuckles, kissing my jaw and claiming my mouth. “Not on your Mawmaw’s couch. I’ll meet you in your room in twenty minutes. Does the door lock?”

“Yes,” I whisper as he presses hard against me. “You’re actually going to give yourself to me?”

“Fuck yes,” he mutters. “I need you like I need air.”

A minute later, he’s standing, his cock at full attention. “Good night, Carlee. See you in the morning,” he says in his normal voice, just in case Mawmaw is listening.

“Good night. Sweet dreams. I’m going to stay up a little longer,” I tell him, watching as he stalks down the other hallway.

There are two spare rooms and a sewing room, where Mawmaw does most of her crafts.

I lean back on the couch and sigh, giddy, finding it ridiculous that we’re sneaking around like this.

Maybe Lexi’s right. Maybe all Weston needs is a real chance. I’m giving him one.

I stare at the spackled ceiling, letting the minutes tick down. Five minutes later, I go to my room and leave the door cracked. I stand just inside it, looking at all the snow globes my grandmother and her mother collected over the years when she was growing up. This was my favorite place to be as a kid because it always felt like a fairy tale.

I set my laptop on the desk and open the top drawer. I see a pair of handcuffs with keys next to it. I place them on the bedside dresser.

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