Page 59 of Meant to be Mine

“I’m so stiff. I’m not used to all the sitting and screen time.”

“You should have said something.”

“It’s fine. Just a little stiff.”

“Very stiff.”

I turned my head to look at him. He winked.

I was used to the double entendres. We did that. We flirted but we never acted on it.

His thumbs moved up toward the base of my neck and I felt my chin drop forward once again. He pressed in circles. I reminded myself this was a completely platonic shoulder rub between two friends. We had agreed that the thing that happened between us had been a one-time event born of champagne and a romantic setting.

Nothing else.

He was Drew. My best friend. No kissing. No touching. And definitely no fucking.

His hands moved to my upper arms and then back up. He worked the muscle at the top of my shoulder. I couldn’t stop the moan that escaped my throat. It was too good.

His hands stilled. I didn’t move. He didn’t move.

“Kensey,” he said, his voice was husky. “I can’t do this.”

“You’re doing fine. I think you got the worst of it.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

I turned and realized I was eye to eye with that bit of him I’d had my mouth on very recently. And it was staring right back at me. He was hard and straining against his slacks. I licked my lips without thinking about it, unable to stop myself. He groaned, reached between his legs, and shifted the cock demanding to be let out to play.

And dammit, I wanted to play.

“I’ve been trying to forget what happened between us,” he said. “I did the coffee date because everyone said it would help. I sat across from a perfectly nice woman and I couldn’t tell you a single thing she said after the first five minutes because all I could think about was you.”

“Drew, we can’t.”

“I’m not done.” He wasn’t unkind about it. Just firm. “I came back here after that and I told you it was a bad date and you smiled and told me I should give it a fair shot, and I wanted to put my head through the wall.”

I pressed my lips together. “I was trying to be a supportive friend.”

“I can’t keep pretending I don’t want you, Kensey. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it. You do. We both do. Why are we denying ourselves?”

With what I really wanted within reach, I was having a difficult time remembering why we stopped. We were friends. We could still be friends after.

“You won’t think differently of me in the morning?” I asked with a small laugh.

“I could never think differently of you. I respect you, Kens. Always have and I always will. I’ve wanted this for a long time. It’s not something that just popped up.”

I couldn’t help it. My eyes dropped back to the thing that had just popped up.

“Me either,” I said.

He reached for me. I got to my knees, my arms resting on his thighs. He leaned forward, his hand cupping my jaw. I stared into his eyes and hesitated for just a second before I closed the distance.

His mouth met mine with a hunger that stole my breath. His fingers slid into my hair and he pulled me closer. I straddled him on the couch and pressed against him, feeling the hard length of him against my stomach through our clothes. The kiss deepened, tongues tangling, and every reason we’d held back dissolved in the heat of it.

I wanted him—had wanted him for years—and tonight, in this quiet office, I wasn’t going to stop.

Drew groaned low in his throat. His fingers tore at the buttons of my blouse. I helped, yanking it open and shrugging it off. Then I reached for his shirt.