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Chapter Twelve
Levi
I’m fuming.
As I follow behind Abby on our way back to our apartment building, I go over and over the conversation with her twin. I’m pretty sure that it was slightly exaggerated for my benefit–hey, I’m well aware of some of the Summer sisters’ tactics. But the thought of one man, let alone a whole slew of them, messaging Abby and wanting a date, makes me crazy. Like batshit, I want to punch something, crazy.
My mind is doing battle against itself. On one hand, I have no right to feel this way except to worry and protect her. On the other, I have every right because, dammit, she’s my girl.
But she’s not.
But she is.
At least she should be.
So maybe it’s time I do something about that. Fuck the boundaries of friendship. Fuck the worry of hurting her. Fuck the fear of living a life without her. Fuck it all…and maybe fuck her (no, not the bad way; the good way).
I feel something deep for my friend and maybe it’s time to figure out what in the hell that is. Sure, I’m terrified of screwing it up and losing her. But what if I don’t? What if that crazy ol’ woman is right and there’s something bigger and greater planned for her and I? Am I strong enough to deny both of us the opportunity to figure out what that is?
Hell no.
Time to form a plan. Time to put it in motion. Time to take my girl and show her why there’s a thin line between friends and lovers, because all I want to do is jump over that line and run straight to the lover part. I haven’t wanted anyone else in a long damn time. Too long, in fact. It’s been almost a year since I took a girl home from wherever for a night of fun between the sheets.
As I head towards our place, I realize my plan is simple: make her see that we have more chemistry than friendship. Should be easy, right? Of course not, but I’ve never shied away from a challenge. And if I’ve learned anything about my friend in the fifteen years I’ve known her, it’s that this will definitely be a challenge. Maybe my greatest one yet. The end result? Having Abby in my arms permanently? Being able to finally taste the lips I’ve been dreaming about? Taking that body of hers and making us both reach new heights of pleasure?
Fucking worth it.
* * *
I follow her up the stairs, my arms loaded down with the stuff from both of our vehicles, but my eyes are elsewhere. They’re positioned squarely on her firm ass. Do I care if she turns around and catches me? Not anymore. I hope she does, actually. I’m about to make it damn clear what my intentions are, even if it’s a slow declaration. Even I’m not stupid enough to jump off the building without a parachute.
We head to her apartment first. Her keys are already in her hand–another safety tip I taught her–and she opens the door wide for me. I set her pot and bag down on the counter before turning her way. “I’ll be right back,” I say, grabbing my own container and heading towards my apartment.
Throwing my stuff on the counter, I boot up my laptop. As soon as it’s up, I click on the app and send her a message. Since I had basically worked out what I wanted to say on the ride home, it didn’t take me long. I go ahead and click the button to ignore all of the requests and messages already sent to my profile before powering down. Grabbing the second, smaller container from the counter, I head back over to my friend’s place.
Not even knocking, I enter. She’s not in the kitchen or living room, so I hang back. Sure, my inner caveman wants me to storm to her bedroom, throw her down on the bed, and ravish her from head to toe for hours–days–on end. But I can’t let that prick out right now. Right now, I need the softer, sweeter Levi to come to take the lead.
“Sorry,” she says, walking out of the bathroom and pulling her hair back up into another high ponytail. For some reason, I’m glued to the long column of her neck. I’ve never really noticed before, but those damn ponytails do a hell of a lot more than just keep her hair out of her face. They reveal the sexy curve and arch of her shoulders and neck. My dick nods his approval at the thought of licking a line from her spine up to her hairline.
“You okay?” she asks, her green eyes full of worry.
“I’m great,” I tell her, clearing my throat. “Here.” I slide the small container across the counter and into her hands. She gives me a look before opening the lid.
“Are these all raspberry?” she whispers, her voice all dark and husky. I instantly think of sex.
Leaning forward, I whisper back, “They are.”
“We should eat them now.” I don’t miss that she leans forward just a bit.
“We should.”
“I’ll get the milk.”
“I’ll get the plates.”
“No plates,” she says as she glances over her shoulder, her hand stalled on the knob for the cabinet. “I like to get messy.”
And that’s when I practically come in my pants. Leaning forward until our faces are even closer, I return fire. “Oh, a dirty girl. I like that.”
