Page 21 of One Taste
My head snaps toward the breakfast nook, and there sits Brielle in all her glory, grinning like she just won the lottery.
“Shit,” I mumble under my breath.
I turn toward her, brushing off my now flustered persona. “Uh, hi.”
She’s still grinning.Dammit.
“Hello to you too.”
The awkward tension is suffocating. She’s officially caught me, and I know she’s loving every second of it. We lived together in college, and back then the roles were reversed. She was the one doing the walk of shame this early, and I was the one sipping on my coffee, waiting to hear every dirty detail.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
She’s smiling wider now. “I just love the look of freshly fucked first thing in the morning.”
“Jesus, Brielle.” I groan, tugging on my clothes to fix myself. “You can’t possibly tell someone just had sex by their looks.”
“Oh, but you can, and you, my friend, look freshly fucked.”
I hate when she’s right.I swear, sometimes she knows me better than I know myself.
“Fine.” I wave my hand at her, giving in. “You win. All of your instincts are correct. I am, how you say,freshly fucked.”
Her voice is high enough to shatter glass. “I knew it!”
Laughing, I can’t help but shake my head. She’s ridiculous. I’ve never seen someone so happy that their friend got laid, even if it’s been the first time in alongwhile.
“You’re insane.”
“And you got dick last night! Or this morning? Did you get it this morning?” She runs toward me, and I brace myself for the best friend tackle of accomplishment.
Oomph.
There it is, and fuck does it hurt as we both hit the tile floor.
“I am so happy for you,” she beams. Her arms around my neck are screwing up my messy bun, and her weight crushes my tits until I’m gasping for air.
Brielle may be little, but she’s damn heavy.How the hell can she be so heavy?She’s petite, with the longest blonde hair that always curls perfectly. With eyes like emeralds, she’s stunning. It downright baffles me how she’s still single.
“I can’t breathe,” I get out between gasps. “Off… now… please.”
Her movements and squeals stop altogether as she pushes off of me, apologizing. “Shit! I’m sorry, Dev.”
When I can breathe again, I grab my tit with one hand through my shirt, hoping the pain subsides by the time my feet touch the floor. Gripping onto the island, I use my other hand, pulling myself up off the floor.
“Jesus, Brielle. I think you broke my tit.”
“Oh, please. You’re exaggerating. You can’t break tits. It’s impossible.”
Walking toward the Keurig on the kitchen counter, I make normal conversation that doesn’t include talking about my sex life or the gorgeous mystery man from last night. “So, what did you do last night?”
“Well, first—” She pauses dramatically. “—I read a book about a best friend who was getting the runaround on the dirty details of a secret sexcapade.”
She’s lucky I love her.
Turning around, I lean my ass against the counter. “His name was Brooks.”
“Brooks?” She gawks. “Damn. Now I see why you didn’t get around to answering your phone. That name alone screams sex god.”
