Page 44 of That Friendzone Feeling
Thewet fabric makes undoing it a struggle.Thisis the least sexy unbuttoning of a shirt in the history of shirt removals, butIcouldn’t care less.Theneed is all-consuming.Ihave to get my hands on him, my mouth on him.
Finally,Iget to the bottom, pull the blue-and-gray plaid shirt out of his jeans, and let it hang open.
Thedrenched whiteT-shirt underneath hugs his firm, broad pecs.Iflick my eyes from one clearly hard nipple to the other.
Mynipples feel exactly the same way.Everyinch of me cries out for his touch.Forhim to want me as much asIwant him.
Irest my palms in the center of his chest, slide themapart, up and over his pecs and downward, grazing those nipples, untilIget to his jeans, and yank hisT-shirt out too.
Hegasps whenIslide my hands underneath and stroke his belly.
“Coldfingers,” he says with a gentle laugh.
“It’sa rainyJanuarynight onHornbyIsland.Isthere anything that isn’t cold?”
Hetwitches his eyebrows. “Ican think of at least one thing.”
AndI’venever wanted anything to warm me more.
Hereaches for the zipper of the orange jacket and slides it down, slowly, one click of a notch at a time.Awindbreaker zipper has never sounded sexier.Thejacket falls open and he slips his hands inside, around my waist and up my back beneath my sweater.Hiscool fingers heat against my skin, andIinstinctively arch into the warmth of his touch.
Islide mine higher under hisT-shirt, over the ridges in his abs and into the soft hairs that cover the spot where his heart beats under my touch.
Hepulls me against him, and the hardness in his crotch presses into my lower belly.
“Oh, myGod.”Ican’t help but remark on it.
“What?” he asks, dipping his face to my neck.Hismouth and tongue are warm on my chilly skin.Myhead spins from the sheer bliss of his touch.
We’rechanged forever now.Theline is crossed.There’sno going back from this.Wecan no more undo the kisses and the touching than we can undo the car crash that pushed us here.
“Idon't think we can be friends anymore,”Ibreathe.
Hekisses his way higher up my neck.
“It’sjust a different kind of friends.”Hislipsagainst the delicate skin right behind my ear send a shiver all the way down to my soggy foot. “Adeeper kind.”
Thenmy earlobe is in his mouth and being sucked and teased by his tongue.Theheat at my core turns into a raging inferno, andIwant my best friend in all the waysIcan have him.Iwant to make him feel more pleasure than he’s ever felt in his life.
Asmy fingers find his hard nipples, a sharp intake of air against my ear sends a tremor of desire through me.Ipush into the shape in his pants and turn to find his mouth, desperate to have it on mine.
Ourlips collide, andI’msearching, finding things in himInever knew were there.
Thenhe pulls back and takes my face in both hands, holding it tight, like he’s gripped with the same desperationIam.Hiseyes look deep into mine, the light that’s bouncing off the ceiling from my phone flashlight picking out flecks of gold in the hazel.
“Areyou sure about this,Em?”
Ican’t help but smile. “DoInot seem sure?”
“Youknow whatImean.”Hebrushes his thumb across my cheek. “Thekissing.Thetouching.It’sincredible.Butit’s probably a terrible idea.”
Andof course that’s true.Butthere’s nothing that could be more right in this particular moment of our lives than what we’re doing right now.Aftereverything that’s happened in the last hour, after everything he’s told me,Ifeel closer toWalkerthan ever.AndyetI’mcompelled to get deeper still, to connect with him not just mentally and emotionally, but physically—the ultimate connection.
Ipush my thigh between his legs, and he shifts against me. “Itdoesn’t feel terrible to me.”
Herolls his eyes. “I’mtrying to be sensible.”Hegrazeshis thumbs along the line of my chin. “We’refriends.Werun a business together.Doingthis because we’re jacked up on the adrenaline of a lucky escape from the crash could fuck it all up.”
IknowWalkerDashwood.AndIknow for absolute certain that he would never do this just because he was in shock.
