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Oh…oh.
Fuck, the images that danced through my mind wrecked me. Not only because that situation hurt her in ways she didn’t deserve, but in all the ways I couldn’t stop seeing what she described. Couldn’t stop visualizing Luna in lingerie, eager and ready to greet me when I came home.
I always stopped myself from allowing my mind to wander there even though that’s all it wanted to do the last few years. She was my best friend. She meant everything to me, which made the idea of taking my thoughts any further than fantasy terrifying. But there were times—like now—where I couldn’t stop my fantasies from playing out.
The ones where I got her all to myself.
The ones where I learned every inch of her body, lingering in all the places that made her breathless.
The ones where her mouth was mine to taste, her body mine to pleasure.
Fuck, I was hard just thinking about it.
“Anyway,” Luna said when I hadn’t responded. “He constantly told me no when I asked about trying new things. Things that might help me actually…” She shook her head. “Either way, he always said I was living in one of my romance novels and needed to come back down to earth.”
“He told you that,” I said in utter disbelief. He was fucking lucky to have her in his life, to be able to touch her and love her in that way. She was brilliant and funny and compassionate. How could he ever deny her anything?
“Yeah,” she said. “And maybe I was. Those books are a little far-fetched sometimes, but was it so wrong for me to ask for more than something fast with barely any time for me to…never mind.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s not wrong at all, Luna. Fuck him. He’s a selfish prick who obviously didn’t have a clue on how to take care of you.”
“Really?” she asked, looking doubtful. “You’re a guy.”
“Good observation skills,” I teased, and it earned me a small smile, thank fuck.
“Right, you’re a guy. So forget you’re my best friend for a second, okay?”
“That’s hard to do—”
“Please, Brad. I’m serious.”
“Okay.”
“Just be a guy right now and pretend we’re dating.”
I swallowed hard, but nodded as she dug her phone out of her purse. She clicked a few things on the screen, scrolling before she finally reached a stopping point. She slid the phone toward me, and I scooped it up.
“Pretend we’re dating,” she said again, her voice lowering. “And I showed you that and asked you if it was something we could try.” She nodded to the phone in my hand, the screen covered in text that I could now clearly see was one of her romance books she read on her phone during slow times at her shop, or on her kindle at home.
“I don’t know if I’m the best—”
“Please,” she said again. “I was up all night trying to figure out if I was reaching. If I really was the irrational woman he said I was. If I was crazy for asking or expecting anything like that. I mean, he said there were things he could do with her that he couldn’t do with me, as if he saw me as a non-sexual being. I don’t know. It’s driving me nuts not knowing if I was overstepping by ever bringing this up.”
“Okay,” I said, nodding as I turned my attention to the book on the screen, something written by Daisy Lewis. I’d seen that name before, knew it was one of her favorite authors. Fuck, what was this book going to say if Luna thought it could too much to ask for?
I wondered if such a limit existed when I thought about what she might want, but I couldn’t find a justifiable answer, so I focused on the book.
As I read the first few sentences, I completely forgot everything I’d been thinking a moment before. Luna had put me right in the middle of a sex scene between two characters I knew nothing about, but…
It was tame.
It was hot as fuck, but it was tame.
The guy was going down on the girl while she was sprawled out on a kitchen island. I mean, hell, they were just getting started.
I scrolled through the next couple pages, unable to stop myself from searching for the part where it would be a stretch for anyone else to pull off for her.
There was nothing out of the realm of possibility, no intense sex swing or multiple partners or a dom/sub situation that would take days of preparation and boundary setting to accomplish. This book was showing good, consensual sex.
And he’d told her no.
He’d told her she was living in a fantasy.
“Fuck,” I groaned, unable to keep the word in as I slid the phone back to her.
“Is that asking too much?”
Goddammit, she didn’t realize it wasn’t. Had he never taken the time to pleasure her just because he could? Had he never taken time with her at all to make sure she was enjoying it?
