Page 67 of Pretty Secrets

“You can’t think—”

He moves forward, blue eyes taking me in greedily. He starts working the buttons on his shirt, the top of his chest peeking through. We’d only ever gotten naked-naked that first time. The subsequent times were about just getting the act done, only taking off what we needed to climax. It wasn’t about exploring each other or passion. It was all about the high.

That doesn’t look like what Oliver has on his mind now.

He works his arms out of his shirt and lays it over his ornate dresser. It’s a big monstrosity of a piece that is out of place in this room, yet somehow fits Oliver perfectly.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he informs me. “I’m going to take you like I’ve been wanting to take you. I’m going to kiss every inch of your skin, pushing you higher than you’ve ever gone before. I’m going to make you scream my name, Eden Astor.”

My insides twist. His words heat my core, but my mind doesn’t want to admit that he’s having an effect on my body. “We can’t. We’re friends,” I argue.

“Not when we’re talking about my reward. We’re not friends. We’re lovers. And you’re going to want it so badly. You’ll scream for me so loudly, that it’ll be evidence enough for those guys downstairs to back the fuck off. Because I had you first, Eden. First…and always. Now, take your dress off so I can see those beautiful breasts.”

I swallow hard, my mouth dry and scratchy. Images of Oliver and I over the years flip through my head. He was the cute, awkward kid with the accent and the penchant for telling adults what to do. I was taller than him for a few years until he hit his growth spurt. Our relationship grew and grew. First, pen pals and telephone dates. Then email, instant messaging, and Snap Chat. Every opportunity we could take to see each other, we would do it. Summers in England and Winters at my house. We’re inseparable.

“It’ll change everything,” I warn.

He swallows, meeting my gaze again. “That’s the plan.”

“But maybe not for the better,” I retort, doing as he asks. I slip the side zipper of my dress down and peel the fabric over my head. I leave the green dress to fall to the ground while my best friend stares at my cleavage, licking the inseam of his mouth.

He pulls me to him with a firm grip on my hips. I crash into his chest, and he immediately fuses his lips to mine. Kissing is something we never did. Never. I stand there, refusing to kiss him back. He growls into my mouth, working his lips over mine earnestly, but I don’t back down.

He can’t see that I’m trying to save us, but I am. Him and Delilah have been the two constants my entire life, and now I only have him. The backside of my eyes heat. Inside, I’m breaking down.

Fear.I feel it, palpitating through me.

Wasn’t it just the other day that I said I wasn’t afraid of anything anymore because the worst thing that could possibly happen had already happened? I was wrong.

“Kiss me,” he grinds out, and he doesn’t sound like my best friend anymore. He sounds like a man starved.

When I still won’t open for him, he breaks away, fingers still digging into my hips. He pushes me, my back hitting the mattress.

He works on his own pants as he stands above me. “Let yourself see me. Feel me.”

What I see is our friendship deteriorating, and it pains me.

His jeans hit the floor, and his erection bulges from his flimsy boxers. He climbs over me, trailing his hand up my side to cup my breast. Flicking his thumb over my nipple, my body immediately responds, and I arch into him. He knows how to get me hot. He’s had a front-row seat with me for years.

Peeling back the cup of my bra, he rubs his fingertip over my nipple until it pebbles under his attention. “Look at me,” he pleads.

I peer down, trying to keep myself from falling under a spell. While I watch, he takes my breast into his mouth, eyes closed as if he’s indulging in a delicacy. He flicks his tongue repeatedly before drawing me out again, gently scraping his teeth along my nipple.

I squirm at the sensations building, the area between my thighs heating, needing touch. The worst part is I know Oliver will make me feel good. I just don’t think I can give him the other thing he wants.

“It’s been too long since I was inside you,” he moans as he drags his cock between my legs. “You were so perfect.”

Reaching around my back, he unclasps my bra and slowly reveals my breasts, dropping the lacy fabric off the side of the bed.

“You’ve grown, though,” he murmurs, drawing back to look at me. “You’ve matured into someone so beautiful, Edie.”

As promised, he lowers himself and turns my whole body into a canvas for his lips. Sometimes they’re slow, caressing, and sometimes hard and rough. Not knowing which one I’m going to get makes me wet. My fists clench as he flicks over my belly button on his way down. Flirting with the line of my panties, he drags his tongue across my entire waist, moving lower until he nibbles at my clit over the fabric of my underwear.

I let out a cry. A rushed sort of excitement builds out of nowhere. Little by little, he lowers my panties, flicking his tongue, dragging his teeth, kissing my skin as he goes. I’m shaking when he pulls them past my ass and down, discarding them afterward.

Oliver hikes one of my legs up, keeping the other dangling off the bed. He opens me wide, bare for him as he stares down. “You’re glistening for me.” He sucks my clit into his mouth until my hips come off the bed, chasing after him.

“Oliver…” His name comes out half in a pant, and half in a warning to not take this too far.

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