Page 20 of Friends Rucked Up

“I hope your brother doesn’t think he’s getting foot rubs,” I joke, taking the sole of her foot into my hand.

“We’ll keep this between us.” She winks at me, and it sends a bolt of lust through me.

Maybe I’m in trouble, yet I can’t stop the next words that leave my mouth. “What else are we keeping to ourselves?” I shouldn’t flirt, but the longer she’s here the easier it’s becoming. Harlan is going to curse me.

“Definitely us sharing a bed, and I want my knickers back from wherever they’ve disappeared to.” She gives me a pointed look.

I probably should be ashamed, but I can’t bring myself to be. I thought I’d got away with it or at least that she wouldn’t be bold enough to ask where they were. “I thought you liked wearing mine?”

“I do, but friends don’t keep other friend’s underwear.”

“It’s a shame that I seem to have misplaced them then,” I say with a shrug.

Alert bells are ringing in my head. Mayday. Mayday. Just five minutes ago I was convincing Harlan and myself I was trustworthy with his sister.

Her forehead wrinkles like she’s overthinking something. “You’re so confusing.”

She catches me off guard. I thought she was going to roast me or demand I gave them back. “How so?”

“You tell me kissing me is too complicated, but keeping my underwear is okay?” She sucks on her bottom lip.

I could lie and say they must be in my drawer by mistake or maybe they got tucked under the bed. Instead, I try to makeher giggle. “Maybe I have a fetish of stealing guests’ underwear. Maybe I’ll keep your brother’s, too.”

She splutters out a laugh, and I’ll admit, it feels good to amuse her. “Okay. You weirdo.”

Jabbing my pinkie into the ridge under her toes I start to tickle her. I start low and work my way up to her hips as she lashes out trying to stop me.

“Take that back.” I playfully pout like when we were kids.

This is how her stay should’ve been right from the start. We can have playful fun together.

“Stop. I can’t cope.” She makes a grab for my wrists. I could easily overpower her, but I pause waiting to see if she dares to repeat her insult. “I love that fire when I see it in your eyes,” she says, shocking the hell out of me.

“The one that wants to pin you down and tickle you until you say I’m king of the world?” I ask, ready to continue my assault on her humour.

“I’m not stroking your big head.”

I clear my throat. “That’s a shame. I think he’d like that.”

It’s her turn to look shocked. Maybe I took that joke too far.

“I bet he’d like it.”

“Holy fuck, are you trying to cause me a heart attack?” I say as the blood from my brain rushes down to my dick, setting off red alert alarms in my head.

She laughs at my response. “I’m only joking with you. Don’t take offence.” She pokes me in the chest which honestly kind of hurts.

“You are pushing my buttons, Ms Saylor Goodyear.” I give her the eyebrow.

She smiles wickedly. “Even I know I can’t crack the Iceman.”

I frown, although it holds a playful element. I want us to be this fun version of ourselves. It’s just hard sometimes, especially now we’re older.

“I’m a tough rugby player not a hockey player. There’s no ice around my heart; I just understand boundaries.”

“Ah, is that what you are doing?” She smiles cheekily.

“See, I told you I could make you like me more. All it took was some innocent flirting and letting you stroke my ego.”

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