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If you didn’t having feelings too—if you turned me down—I’ll be honest, I’m not sure I could recover from that. If our friendship could recover, you know?
Thank God I stopped myself last night at the last minute.
Okay then. Guess I’ll be erasing this after I’m done blabbing. But I’m just so full right now of the things I feel for you. I promise I didn’t start to fall on purpose. I value you as so much more than what’s on the outside. I see how people use you, and I don’t want to be one of them.
Ugh, it’s still hard not to hate myself. You seem to wear our friendship so well. So easily.
But sometimes, being just friends is hard for me.
Bel
PS I really like it when you call me that.
Chapter Seven
Annabel
I’m about to do something very stupid when the song abruptly ends.
I wake from the spell, bewildered and embarrassed and so turned on.
For the second time today, I’m in Beau’s arms, but this time feels different. Our embrace is tighter. Charged with electricity.
Beau’s got me all hot and bothered.
The inside jokes and stories from the front lines, figuring out depression and the deep end of life and dick piercings. He’s reminding me how life can be fun.
Reminding me of who I am.
Still, giving in to this strident…lust is not a good idea. I’ve kept it in my pants for almost two decades now. What’s another few hours? A day? I need time to gather my thoughts. There’s too much at risk to just dive in.
Or is there? Really, this could be the moment I’ve been waiting for all these years. Beau and I have had our fun. We’ve built the careers and the lives we’ve always dreamed of. We’re not traveling like crazy, at least for the time being. We’re settling down.
Why not settle down with each other?
I want to ask him that question so, so badly. But it’s been a long day, and whatever his answer is, it’ll be the same tonight as it is tomorrow.
Leaving the warmth of his body is torture, but somehow, I manage to step back. “I should get back.”
Beau clears his throat, flipping his hat off his head to run a hand through his hair—one of his nervous tells.
What the hell is he nervous about? Not me. This. Us.
Is he?
The idea is too risky to contemplate.
“Course. I’ll give you a ride. My cart’s parked right over here.”
Following him, I sigh. “Sorry. I’m tired, and I have to pump soon or my boobs will explode. But does it make me an asshole to say I really don’t want to go home?”
Maybe not an asshole, a voice inside my head says. But definitely an idiot.
What am I trying to accomplish by saying that? Am I baiting him, waiting for him to ask me back to his place or something?
“Nah,” he says. “Just makes you honest. C’mon, I’ll take the long way back to your cottage.”
“It’s not a cottage.”
“I know.”
Beau makes good on his promise. The path we take dips down a hill and curves around the perimeter of the lake. Its surface is perfectly still. The full moon, the same milky white as Maisie’s skin, is reflected on the lake’s surface. A perfect mirror image. The air is cool, and my blood is warm. It burns warmer when I slide into Beau as we round a bend, our legs pressed together, knee to hip.
I glance down at his thigh. It’s twice the size of mine, a ridge of solid muscle.
The image pops into my head: Beau between my legs, his naked thighs working as he thrusts into me. Hard and ardent.
And then, in my head, he kisses me, tongue matching the roll of his hips.
My eyes slide to his lips. I bet he’s a good kisser.
Slowwwww down.
But the fantasy won’t quit. He’s kissing my neck now, guiding my knee to my chest to deepen the angle. Then he kneels, pulling out of me, and circles the head of his cock—non-existent piercing is there, interestingly—around my clit. I feel it all.
It’s shocking in the most pleasant way possible. I feel like myself again. Young. Free. At home in my skin.
I already want more of it.
“You okay?”
I blink. Beau is looking at me funny.
“What?”
“You just moaned.” Oh, Christ. “Your boobs hurtin’ or something?”
“Stop the cart.”
“You’re really not okay? I can—”
“Please, just—stop the cart, Beau.”
He hits the brake, and I leap out onto the grass. I run my hands down my own thighs, squeezing them together in an effort to relieve the throb between my legs.
“Bel—”
“I think I’ll just walk home.” I don’t trust myself to stay.
“Like hell you will. It’s pitch black out there.”
“I’ll be fine,” I say, and start walking. There’s a fancy dock house just ahead on my left. “I just need to, um, clear my head. Fresh air and…stuff.”
