“Hello? Miss, are you there?” The receptionist’s voice breaks through the silence.
“Yes, sorry,” Ellie apologizes, clearing her throat. “Um, unfortunately, I’m going to have to cancel my appointment.”
My heart drops back into my chest, pumping at normal rhythm.
“I’m sorry for the short notice,” she says.
“No problem. It happens more often than not,” the woman replies sympathetically. “Give us a call back if you’d like to reschedule.”
“I will, thank you.”
As the call draws to a close, I push from my chair and head straight for her.
Ellie’s gaze tracks my every move, following the silent dance unfolding between us, her head tilting further back the closer I get.
Once reaching her, I gently lift her to sit on the counter, positioning myself between her legs.
Quickened breaths race past her slightly parted lips. Pretty pink lips that are so close to mine I can practically taste them. So close that I can hear every frantic beat of her heart. See the pulse thrumming at the base of her delicate neck.
My hand lifts to the side of her face, fingers sweeping away a few stray tendrils of golden hair.
Her eyes fall closed as she leans into my touch, the move in itself a silent confirmation. Yet I find myself asking anyway. Needing to hear her say it.
“We doing this?”
Her eyes snap open at the question, jarring me on impact. “Promise me, no matter what happens, we will stay best friends.” Raw vulnerability bleeds through every word.
My other hand moves to the opposite side of her face, my gaze steadfast. “Forever. I promise.”
I witness her resolve before the words reach my ears. “Then yes, we’re doing this.”
It’s all I needed to hear. My mouth descends, raw and desperate as I finally claim what has always been mine, forever transforming what was always meant to be.
Ellie
I’ve often wondered what it would feel like to kiss Gunnar, and I’m not talking about the long peck we had at Heart Mountain when we were kids. I’m talking about a full-on lip lock while playing a game of tonsil hockey.
Pretty much exactly what we are doing right now.
I knew it would be good because Gunnar excels at everything he does in life, but I can say with absolute certainty I never imagined it would feel quite like this.
Earth-shattering, combustible, life-altering …
His lips are as soft as I remember when we kissed in the rain all those years ago, but unlike last time, his mouth commands mine in a way I never knew I craved. His tongue orchestrating a beautiful dance that takes me by storm, awakening something profound within me.
“I fucking knew you’d be sweet,” he rumbles against my lips, deepening the kiss.
There’s nothing sweet about him. He’s all spice and sin. The rich flavor of his beer is potent on my tongue, the very essence of him completely intoxicating.
It lures me in, igniting an unwavering desire for more.
My arms curl around his neck in an effort to bring myself closer, every part of my body suddenly aching to touch his.
He gives me exactly what I seek. His hands drop from my hair down to my waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh of my hips as he pulls me to the edge of the counter, bringing my hot center in direct contact with his very impressive erection.
Oh god.
My gasp and his groan collide in the silence between us, the heated moment turning into something more. Something … insatiable.
“Goddamn, Elle,” he growls. “I can literately feel the heat of your pussy through my fucking jeans.”
His erotic words zap through me like an electrical current, directly affecting the body part he speaks about.
“That’s because it’s been poorly neglected its whole life,” I explain breathlessly. “So, maybe you could be a champ and take care of it for me.”
His chuckle trails into a tortured sound. “Don’t worry, I fucking plan to.” He follows up that promise by scooping me up into his arms and heading for the stairs.
I cling to him like a koala as he takes them two at a time, my lips continuing to taste and devour, unable to get enough, and it causes him to slightly stumble.
He grabs onto the railing, quickly righting himself. “Elle,” he utters in warning. “If you’re not careful, you’re going to send us both down these stairs, and if I die before finally getting to have you, I will be seriously pissed.”
“You’ll be pissed?” I counter, pulling back in mock outrage. “I’m the one who would die a virgin.”
It would be just my luck to be remembered as the twenty-four-year-old girl who plummeted to her death seconds before losing her virginity to her hot best friend. Never mind the damper it would put on this baby plan of ours.
“Then be a good girl for a few more seconds so I can make sure that doesn’t happen.” He flashes me that sexy grin, the one that causes my heart to tumble in my chest. A reaction I had even when we were kids when I was too young to understand what it meant. What I am now realizing isn’t a typical reaction you have with your best friend.
