Page 49 of Up in Smoke

“You’re going to have to help me understand the logistics on this,” she says, voice nearly cracking.

“Simple. You practice indifference while I play with your body until?—"

“That’s not what I meant,” she rushes out, fumbling over her words now. “I mean, isn’t there a simpler solution? Letting you . . . do whatever it is that you do and then acting like you haven’t seen me naked the next day would be awkward. We’d be weird around each other.”

“I won’t make it awkward. I’m not risking friendship for sex. Just making it better.”

Her tongue darts out, and her breathing picks up again. I don’t think she hates the idea. The subtle way she squeezes her thighs together and the heat coursing through her eyes is impossible to miss.

When I tilt my head so that our foreheads are almost touching, her hands flex in her lap like she’s itching to use them but doesn’t know where to start.

Good. She feels the same pull that I do. The inevitability.

“Someone will give you what you need. Shouldn’t it be a guy you’re safe with? Someone who knows you best? It’s me,” I say, voice thick now. “And just because I’ll have plowed youwhile you’re face down in a pillow doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends.”

Maybe I shouldn’t leave out the part where I’ve been slowly dying for months in the worst dry spell of my life and she’s the only person I have any interest in fooling around with, but that detail doesn’t seem totally necessary to disclose right now.

“Say it’s me.” I pause, letting her think.

Her eyes haven’t left mine once. The pulse in her neck is pounding so hard I want to taste it just to see if it thunders the same on my tongue. I’m not the most patient man in the world, but I dig deep for some fortitude while waiting.

Then—finally—words float out of her mouth. Breathy but sure.

“It’s you.”

I back away instantly because the pounding in my chest turns so rampant, I think I might pass out. My hands run slowly through my hair, and I let out a heavy breath before meeting her eyes again.

No amount of practiced composure could have helped me when she lifts the bottom of her tank top and pulls it over her head. My hands go to the top of my head, and I inhale sharply.

Oh, shit. Now? I only practiced what to say. As far as what I’ddoto her if she said yes, well, I didn’t get that far in the planning process.

A hot spark—small, but strong—lights in my chest. The same one I’ve been grasping to find again for so long. Fuck having a plan. It would have gone out the window the second I saw her like this anyway.

I take her in from the slight curve at her waist to the black bra keeping me from seeing all of her. And just like that, my old instincts take over.

I roll my tongue over the top row of my teeth and lower my arms. My eyes glaze over and narrow slightly. I smirk as sheleans toward me, but I hook my finger through the center of her bra to stop her.

“Not yet.”

16

MESA

Legend hasit that Cleopatra pioneered the first vibrator using nothing but a hollow gourd filled with buzzing bees.

If I were half that inventive, I could conjure up a more creative solution to learning the ins and outs of casual sex. Yet here I am, shirtless and green-lighting my best guy friend’s offer to take matters into his own hands.

I could have easily said no. But in truth, I want him to be the one to teach me.

Terribly.

Quickly.

Cleo might approve. I, on the other hand, know full well this is a logistical nightmare. I don’t care what he promises—there’s no going back once the dust settles. Maybe if he has me walking with a limp tomorrow, I’ll forgive myself for agreeing to his outrageous proposal.

Is it, though? Outrageous?

His questions before officially making his intentions clear were thought-provoking to say the least. Idotrust him. Since I’m off the market, so to speak, with relationships—why not him to crack my curse?

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