Page 2 of Better When Shared
Something warm bloomed in my chest as I moved toward them. Nicholas Li and I had been inseparable in college, and even though his programming job had taken him to Seattle while Lila and I settled in Portland, we still made time for each other. But between my crazy work schedule and his dating life, it had been months since we'd hung out properly.
"Holy shit," I laughed, pulling him into a bear hug after Lila released him. His body was solid against mine, familiar and comforting in a way that spoke of years of friendship, nothing more. "What are you doing here?"
"Your wife invited me," Nick said, clapping me on the back before pulling away to grab his duffel bag from the porch.
I looked at Lila, whose face was practically glowing with pride at having orchestrated this reunion. "You planned this?"
She nodded, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. "You've been working so hard, and I know how much you miss hanging out with Nick. I thought we could all use a beach week."
The thoughtfulness of it hit me like a wave. This woman—this fucking incredible woman—had planned not just a getaway for us, but had thought to include the friend I'd been missing. The surge of love I felt for her in that moment was almost overwhelming.
Nick stepped fully inside, his tall frame making the space feel even smaller, and let out a low whistle as he took in our accommodations. "Wow, cozy digs."
Lila's face flushed. "It looked bigger in the photos," she admitted. "I'm so sorry, Nick. If I'd known..."
Nick waved her off with an easy smile. "Hey, I've crashed in worse places. Remember that absolute shithole apartment Connor and I shared junior year?"
I groaned at the memory. "The one with the shower that only ran cold and the neighbors who I'm pretty sure were running a meth lab?"
"Exactly. This is the fucking Ritz compared to that place." Nick's genuine kindness toward Lila's mistake made my chest tighten with appreciation. This was why he was my best friend—he could roll with anything, make anyone feel at ease.
The three of us spent the next hour settling in, an awkward dance of bodies in the limited space. Nick claimed the twin bedwith good humor, tossing his duffel onto it and immediately helping Lila organize the tiny kitchen with our groceries. I watched them work together, chatting easily about Seattle's tech scene and Lila's latest projects at the clothing company she worked for.
By the time we'd ordered pizza, the initial awkwardness had faded into comfortable camaraderie. We sprawled across the limited seating—Lila and I squished onto the loveseat, Nick in the single armchair—drinking beers and catching up as if the cramped quarters were an afterthought.
As the night wore on and the beer flowed, I found myself increasingly aware of Lila's body pressed against mine. The way she absentmindedly stroked my thigh while telling a story. The scent of her skin, warm and inviting. The brush of her breast against my arm when she leaned forward to grab another slice of pizza.
By midnight, my body was humming with desire, a familiar ache building in my groin. Usually, this would be when I'd whisper filthy promises in Lila's ear, when we'd excuse ourselves to the bedroom, when I'd peel that sundress from her body and taste every inch of her skin.
The reality hit me like a bucket of ice water as we began preparing for bed. Nick disappeared into the tiny bathroom to brush his teeth, and I pulled Lila close, my hands drifting down to squeeze her ass.
"I want you so fucking bad," I murmured against her ear, my cock already half-hard against her stomach. She gazed towards the tiny sleeping area for a moment and huffed out a breath.
"We'll figure something out," she whispered, kissing me lightly. "Maybe when he goes for a run or something."
Chapter 2
Lila
I woke to Connor's hard cock pressed against my ass and his warm breath on my neck, his massive, well-muscled body surrounding me. My body responded instantly, a delicious heat pooling between my thighs as I pressed back against him. The cabin's cramped layout came rushing back to me—Nick's sleeping form just feet away, separated only by a flimsy curtain that did absolutely nothing to muffle sound. Fuck. Six more days of vacation in this tiny converted garage suddenly felt like an eternity of sexual frustration.
"Morning," Connor whispered, his lips grazing my ear.
I turned my head slightly, catching his eyes in the soft glow of morning light filtering through the curtains. They were dark with a need that matched my own. Usually, this look meant we'd spend the next hour making the headboard slam against the wall of our Portland apartment.
"Morning," I whispered back, shifting slightly to face him while keeping our bodies hidden beneath the navy duvet. The queen bed suddenly felt both too small and not private enough. "Sleep okay?"
His hand slid over my hip, fingers tracing the edge of my sleep shorts. "Dreamt about you," he murmured. "Woke up hard."
No shit. The evidence pressed insistently against me, and I bit my lip to hold back a moan as he rolled his hips ever so slightly.
"Nick's still asleep," he whispered, his hand drifting beneath my tank top to cup my breast. His thumb brushed over my nipple, sending sparks through my body.
I glanced over at the twin bed on the opposite wall. Through the gap in the curtain, I could see Nick's dark hair splayed against the pillow, his broad back rising and falling with deep, even breaths. The small beach cabin suddenly felt microscopic—the galley kitchen just steps from our bed, the dining table where our clothes were piled, the single bathroom where the shower now dripped. Every inch of the open-concept space felt like it amplified sound.
"We have to be quiet," I breathed, arching into Connor's touch despite my words.
His fingers circled my nipple, pinching gently as his other hand slid down between my legs, stopping at the edge of my shorts. "You think you can manage that?" He knew damn well I couldn't. Not when he touched me like this.
