And none of that spurs me into carrying her to her bedroom, kicking the door closed, and setting her on the edge of her bed.
As my breath comes hard, I gaze at the woman I’ve known more than half my life.
The woman I took to prom.
The woman who’s been my rock.
The person I’ve depended on.
And holy shit, I really want to get naked with her all night long, damn the consequences.
I don’t want to do it to prove a point. I want to do it because I want her.
I want Summer Clarke so damn badly.
I cup her cheek, meeting her gaze, ready to tell her that this thing between us—and I don’t want to define it—is so much more than a stupid point to prove.
That it’s turning into a strange new sensation in my heart.
But she speaks first while she’s tugging at my shirt, pulling it up, trailing her fingers against my abs.
“Oliver, show me,” she whispers in the voice of a seductress. “Show me how good you are in bed, as good as I’ve imagined.”
My brain short-circuits.
All the wiring fries, and I can’t form coherent thoughts.
Because she’s pictured this.
Knowing that throws accelerant on a roaring fire.
I ignite, and the flames lick through my body as I pull off my shirt the rest of the way, letting the corner of my lips curve up in a grin. “You’ve pictured me?”
She nods, dancing her fingers down my stomach, over my abs. “I have. I shouldn’t, but I have, and every time, you’ve made me come.”
Holy fuck.
She is a goddess of dirty dreams.
She’s a kitten and a vixen and a daring, bold woman all in one.
She runs her fingers back up to my chest, making my brain pop. My skin sizzles.
I don’t need to form intelligent thoughts after all. Telling her this isn’t about ego, that I’m not making a case—those protestations don’t fit in the heat of this moment.
Not when she wants this purely physical connection.
So I home in on that.
I undo her blouse, slipping one button through its hole, then the next, then the next. Her shirt falls open, revealing soft, creamy skin and a pale-pink bra holding in those beauties. She shrugs off the shirt, letting it fall to the floor. We toe off shoes, and then I climb onto the bed with her, lying down, sliding under her so I can kiss her like that.
It should be weird, kissing my best friend with her lying on top of me.
Kissing in her bed, half-undressed, knowing everything’s coming off so very soon.
But it’s not weird.
It feels inevitable.
It feels like it’s about damn time.
And it’s utterly fantastic to finally give in.
I’m not sure how long I’ve wanted her, whether these feelings are new or they’ve been there all along, just waiting.
But I know, right now, my desire for her runs far and deep.
I bring her close for another devouring kiss. She tastes sweet and sexy as our lips collide in a hungry, wild crush.
My hands slide to the back of her bra, unhooking it. She sits up on me, lets the lingerie fall to the bed, and I stop everything because I have to look. I have to feel.
My God, she’s spectacular.
I cup her breasts, moaning my appreciation. “You are fucking beautiful.”
She smiles, kind of shyly, as she arches her back. “So are you.”
“But that’s the problem, isn’t it? You think I can’t make you feel good.” I tease her nipples, lifting my head up from the pillow to draw one delicious teardrop breast into my mouth, sucking on that diamond point.
