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Jared and Robin invited us for another drink before the bar closed. I accepted, hoping that I might appease Thea’s annoyance with one last drink and the promise of more wine in our room.
Although, on second thought, more booze didn’t seem like the right answer to all the questions our kiss had dredged up.
I needed clarity and nothing felt clear, even after passing up another drink at dinner. I sipped the drink in my hand, leaving it half full on the bar when the bartender announced he was closing up shop.
Jared and Robin bid us goodnight, tipsy and flirty on their way out of the elevator on the third floor.
Thea and I rode to the fourth in silence. I followed her down the quiet hallway, all the other resort guests already tucked in bed.
She pushed open the door to our room, passing by the bottle of wine on the coffee table and sitting down at the vanity to take off her jewelry and makeup.
“Want to watch a movie?” I asked, picking up the remote without turning on the bedroom television, just wanting to break the silence.
She shook her head. “No. I’m pretty tired.”
“Me, too,” I admitted. I pawed around my bag, pulling out a shirt and sweatpants.
“You know you’re my best friend, right?” Thea asked, staring at me through the mirror. She had removed what was left of her red lipstick, looking more like herself with every pass of the makeup remover.
“Of course I know that.” I grinned.
“I love you, Benny.”
“I love you too, Thea.”
I retreated into the bathroom, the smile slipping off my face. She wasn’t ready to talk about dinner, or the kiss before. She’d come around in her own time and I had my own thoughts to decipher.
CHAPTER11
Thea
I wokeup in Ben’s arms.
Not exactly newsworthy. We’d been having sleepovers at each other’s houses since we were babies and never broke the habit. Sometime in high school, Ben’s mom softly probed whether having the two of us in a room was a good idea, but Pete, Ben’s dad, talked her down with a sigh and a laugh.
They’re just best friends.
And we were. Other than a drunken kiss, we’d never tested the bounds of the friendship. Even in high school, when we had more hormones than sense, Ben always seemed vaguely off-limits, like I had too much to lose if I crossed that line with him. Last night, though, my sleep had been overwhelmed with dreams of making out with Ben in the restaurant, taking him up to our room, and doing things that would have made his mother wish she’d been a little firmer about boundaries in high school.
I’d opened my eyes, hoping those dreams that had been so spicy the night before would feel awkward and strange. But, if anything, my attraction to Ben had grown overnight and waking up with his arms around me and the faint imprint of morning wood on my thigh didn’t make me scoff and smack him on the shoulder. I didn’t even consider shaking him and telling him he needed to calm down.
No, instead, I turned slowly to face him, taking care not to wake him up.
He didn’t look different. Not really, anyway. His brown hair was mussed from sleep. His eyes were closed, long lashes I was endlessly jealous of fluttering softly as he dreamed. His face, as familiar as my own, looked the same.
Only this morning, my eyes lingered on his Cupid’s bow, the square cut of his jaw, and the firm muscles underneath my fingers. My pulse quickened at the memory of his lips on mine. I sucked in a breath, my knee brushing over the side of his leg, lean, hard muscle.
No, my thoughts had wandered past the realm of PG and strictly into R-rated. Sure, I’d never slept with Ben, but we talked about everything. I knew that the first time he had sex; he kept his shirt on because he was self-conscious about being skinny. That was back before he’d taken over the rescue and filled out. I knew that his last girlfriend hated him going down on her. I knew he loved camping sex.
All details of our lives shared over years, told more as general information than anything notable. I hadn’t been turned on when he told me those things. Only interested in Ben.
But now, I couldn’t help turning over those details and subtly moving myself closer beside him. A warm trail of heat traveled down my body as I let my sleep-addled mind wander. I imagined Ben’s lips on my inner thigh, his calloused fingers digging into the flesh of my knee, his eyelashes brushing bare skin.
I closed my eyes, squeezing my thighs together to relieve some of the heat, frustrated and entirely aware that frustration was my own doing.
He moaned softly, tilting his head so he buried his nose in my hair, his arms pulling me closer, his boner now pressed into my hip.
Distantly, I reminded myself this wasn’t okay. That Ben was my friend and I should pull away. I should wake him up, teasing him before taking a cold shower.
