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Christ, I can’t wait to see that bouncing on me.
“Gray.” She groans as my fingers dig into her flesh.
“Shh.” I push her hair to the side and kiss her neck. “Just get your ass inside, Georgia.”
THREE
GEORGIA
This man is looking at me like he wants to taste every single inch of my body. I’m not too proud to admit that I’ve spent one too many nights with this little scene going through my head as I have a little alone time. But I never dreamed we would make it here or that I would actually want to.
I’m still apprehensive, a little too scared to let myself enjoy this. I’m in my head, wondering what tomorrow morning is going to be like. Will we be able to get back into our comfortable routine of just being best friends? Will this ruin what we have? And I’m definitely too proud to wonder if he might want more than just friends. I don’t think my ego can take that hit if I were to ask that out loud.
“Stop getting in your head.” He picks me up and kicks the front door shut. I wrap my legs around his waist as he turns the lock. “Just be in the moment, Georgia.”
He should know how hard that is for me. I’ve always dealt with anxiety, and this is like skyrocketing it. While my lady bits definitely want this to happen, my brain is still worried over whether or not this isactuallya good idea.
“I just don’t want to ruin our friendship.”
“Maybe I do.”
He kisses me, and I’m too stunned by his words to even react. So I tell my brain to shut up and just let me have this tonight. I can worry about tomorrow when tomorrow comes.
“If I remember correctly,” he says as he carries me up the stairs, “you said you like to be thrown around in the bedroom?”
I can feel my entire face heat. It was one thing to joke with a friend about that, but now it’s a little embarrassing. Letting my forehead drop to his shoulder, I let out a soft laugh, hoping he’ll just let that drop.
“I’m not letting it drop, sunshine.”Sunshine. I like that far too much. “Just asking, because if you do like to be thrown around, I can definitely oblige.”
I pull back and grab his jaw. His very strong, very sharp jaw. I take a deep breath. Fortune favors the bold, right?
“Yes. I like it.”
“Atta girl.”
His answering grin is enough to soak my panties. I bite the inside of my mouth to make sure I don’t blurt out anything embarrassing, like just how handsome he is and how long I’ve kept that thought to myself.
He tosses me down on the bed, my body doing a couple of bounces before he starts taking off my boots and unbuttoning my jeans. Anxiety about my body plants little seeds in my stomach that grow into full-on weeds by the time my jeans are off.
He’s seen me in one-piece bathing suits when I take Olivia over to his farm to swim, but he’s never seen my stomach. He doesn’t know about the angry-looking C-section scar or the white stretch marks that run vertically from hip to hip. He doesn’t know about how my PCOS causes me to be a little hairier than most women, with a bit of a happy trail from my belly button to…
I haven’t shaved. Oh my fucking god. I haven’t shaved.
“Fuck.” He whispers it like a prayer as he sinks to his knees between my legs. “Do you know how fucking gorgeous you are, Georgia?”
His palms run up my thighs and over my hips, pushing my shirt up higher and higher until it’s tucked above my breasts. My eyes are squeezed shut, and I hope that my plain black bra and panties are giving me some sort of shape to look at.
“Look at you,” he says with wonder in his tone. It’s slowly chipping away at all my insecurities. “You are perfect.”
His lips make contact with the smooth scar, making me gasp and grab onto his shoulders. I sit up a bit and look down at him. His mouth stays hovering over my skin as his eyes make contact with my own.
“Please don’t tell me to stop.”
“I’m not. I just— The scar.”
“You think I care about this scar?” He kisses it again, and then the tip of his tongue runs along a small part of it. “This is just proof that you brought that amazing little girl into this world.” He kisses it again.
“I also haven’t…ugh.” I groan and fall back onto the bed. This is Gray, my best friend. I know him. I love him. I should know that none of this will make any difference to him. But I can’t help the thoughts that keep popping up without my permission. “I haven’t shaved.”
