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He’d be thrilled and he’d immediately tell everyone, which would be great. Until it wasn’t. And what happened then?
No. I pushed those thoughts out of my head as I picked through drawers to find something to wear. Despite his clear desire to be with me, Benny had given me time and I had every intention of taking it.
I didn’t exactly stock Ben’s house with sexy, “come fuck me” clothing. He was the only person I could hang out with in sweatpants and ratty t-shirts. Half the shirts in the chest of drawers were his, in fact.
I slipped off the red party dress, hanging it in the closet with a sigh. At least I’d worn some decent undergarments. The strapless bra would have to go, but the matching red lace panties were head and shoulders better than the plain white cotton briefs I had stashed at Ben’s.
I wriggled into one of his t-shirts, one I’d cut the neck out of, stitching it up so it draped over one-shoulder. I’d altered the t-shirt to wear with a pair of leggings or jeans, not to bed, but staring at my reflection in the mirror, I felt confident Ben wouldn’t mind.
I padded down the hallway, slipping through the open door to his room. He stood in the bathroom, door flung open, toothbrush in hand. His eyes slid toward me when I entered, the corner of his lips tipping up as he moved the toothbrush to the other side of his mouth.
I only caught a split second of his reaction, my eyes drifting down from his face to his exposed chest and low-slung shorts. How many times had I seen Ben in this state of undress? Hundreds. Thousands. Tens of thousands of times. But the sight of his body had never hit me quite like this.
I appreciated Ben was an attractive guy. He had a lean, rugged quality that had never been my type. When a friend or acquaintance would gush about his soulful dark eyes, his scruff of a beard, his muscled chest, I’d nod and mildly agree. Like, sure, Monet was a genius painter, but it just looks like smudges to me.
Tonight, though, those smudges clicked into place and I understood. My heart pounded at the thought of those rough hands on my skin. My stomach flipped as I imagined running my fingers down the thin line of hair to his waistband. I wanted nothing more than to cross the room and kiss his lips until he dragged me to bed.
Instead, I took a deep breath and walked into the bathroom, pulling my toothbrush from its holder. I kept my cool as best as I could, eyes glued on my reflection, mind focused on the act of brushing my teeth. Ben spit out the mouthwash and wandered into the bedroom, his hand brushed my lower back as he passed me, lingering a second longer than necessary.
Reluctantly, I washed off my makeup. At least with a layer of lipstick and eyeshadow, I had something to mask me from the dawning realization that I had completely fallen for my best friend. I closed the bathroom door and drenched a washcloth with cold water, patting the back of my neck.
I didn’t have to do this. I could slide into bed with Ben, stay on my side, and put any thought of sleeping with him out of my mind. He wouldn’t fight it. He would be disappointed, sure, but he would accept it. Hell, he’d even let me burrow into his arms and fall asleep there if I wanted. He was that kind of guy. That kind of friend.
I groaned, throwing the washcloth into the laundry bin and working up my courage to open the door.
Ben lay in bed, covers up over his waist, one hand slung over his head, the other holding his phone above his face. A familiar sight that suddenly felt very new and foreign.
I pulled my charger out from behind the bedside table and plugged my phone in. Ben rustled on the other side of the bed as I pulled back the covers and slipped in.
I froze for a moment, my back toward Ben and my heartbeat fluttering like the hummingbird, before turning to face him. He had shifted onto his side, one arm cupping his head, the other draped across his torso.
“What are you thinking, Thea?” he asked, his voice low and rumbly.
A better question would have been, what am I feeling? Lust shot through me, some combination of his voice and body that affected me like never before.
I bit my bottom lip to stop myself from licking my lips like some cartoon horn dog. “I think you looked very handsome tonight.”
“You looked pretty nice yourself,” he grinned.
“And I don’t think speed dating was a good idea.”
“Why’s that?”
I had always told Ben everything: bad relationships, difficult friendships, family problems. The filter between us was non-existent, but still I couldn’t make myself say the words. Because I love you. Because I want to be with you.
“Well, for one, because we knew all those people.”
Disappointment crossed his face, followed by amusement. He chuckled. “Most of them. Any other reasons?”
“Honestly?” I answered, completely dishonestly. “I’m a little too distracted right now to think of more reasons.”
He leaned closer, his nose touching mine. “Well, think it over, but I don’t think speed dating is for us.”
I shook my head, my nose rubbing his before he tilted his head, his lips brushing mine. The soft impression of a kiss turned more pressing as his hand drifted down my arm, grasping my waist and pulling me against him.
I wound my fingers through his hair, twisting the soft curls and pulling his lips closer to mine. The brutal kiss bruised my lips and left me breathless. He pulled up the hem of the shirt, fabric sliding over my thighs and ass and waist until his fingers touched bare skin and I sucked in a breath, breaking the kiss.
Undeterred, Ben’s lips trailed down my neck. I turned onto my back as his knee pressed against the bed between my legs, pushing them open, his lips on my chest and his fingers brushing my breasts.
