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Levi moves his hand, whacking me in the chest. But don’t worry, he soothes the sting with his large, calloused palm by running it up my side and palming one of my breasts. His face, which is cushioned against the other breast, burrows in deeper and he rubs his nose against my nipple.
Hello!
I gasp as need sweeps through my body, my nipples erect with desire. Our legs are completely entwined, his erection–oh my God, his very large erection–is against my thigh. One of my hands is resting against his back, while the other is back in his hair. My word, the man has the hair of a god. We’re basically hugging, lying next to each other on a very small couch.
I don’t know what to do. We’re locked in a completely inappropriate embrace that is so far over the friend line that I can’t even see it anymore. I’ve jumped over the line, and the worst part is I’m actually enjoying it. Oh, I’m enjoying it so very much. I should get up, go to my room and hide until he leaves (or until I die, whichever comes first), but I find myself snuggling in a little deeper into his warmth.
Traitorous body.
“You smell so good,” Levi mumbles, again running his nose against the outline of my breast.
I try to figure out what to say, what to do, when he finally starts to come to. His hands flex, gripping my breast tightly, and his lower half starts to grind against me. Then suddenly, he stills against me, his body going rigid–and I’m not talking about the other body part that’s quite…hard.
“Abby?”
Swallowing hard, I squeak, “Mmmhmmm?”
He doesn’t move. “Why are your boobs pressed against my face?”
“Technically, I think your face is pressed against my boobs,” I quip, unable to breathe.
“You could be right.” He moves quickly, pulling his body apart from my own, and sits up on the opposite end of the couch. His hair is unruly and wild, and makes my fingers twitch to feel those silky strands once more. “I take it we fell asleep watching the movie?” he asks through a yawn.
“Yeah.” My words are more choked.
“You probably have to get to work,” he says, standing up and turning away from me.
Of course, since I work at home, I don’t have to go far. “Yeah.” Again with the one-word answer.
“Is your coffee pot ready to go? I can start it for you before I go,” he suggests like any good friend. And here I am, the complete opposite of a good friend. I’m trying to figure out how to get him back on the couch and back asleep so we can see how far his wandering hand would have gone.
Bad friend.
Levi can’t even look at me, which tells me just how uncomfortable he was to wake up with me in his arms. It’s mortifying that I was all excited and ready to jump his bones, and he’s just trying to figure out the easiest and quickest way out of here. I pull myself into a sitting position and tuck my legs against my chest, holding on tightly and pleading for this moment to end, for our friendship to still be intact when he goes.
There are certain lines that can’t be crossed, and I pray this wasn’t one of them. I’ll just pretend it didn’t happen, to never ever talk about it again. Then, when he goes about his carefree life as if he didn’t have his morning wood pressed against his best friend’s thigh, well, then I can too. Easy peasy.
Only, that’s something I don’t think I’ll ever forget.
