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“Extending sounds good,” I manage.
“We are still friends. But we are friends who... do other things.” Her hand traces a path down my stomach, stopping on my lower abs.
I instantly harden.
Friends is impossible. Friends is never going to happen. I want her too much to ever go back to something as tedious asfriends.
But what other option is there? She’s leaving. I want her however I can get her. I can’t say no, not now, not ever.
I swallow. “Friends. Who do other things,” I confirm. “And we don’t do these other things with any other friends.” I duck my head to her neck, sucking gently on the spot below her ear.
Her breathing falters. “Yes.” The word is hissed through her teeth.
If I’m agreeing to this heartbreak, which is inevitable, I refuse to share. My lips follow a path down to her collarbone, nipping softly.
She groans and shifts against me. “Can we do some of those other things now?”
Triumphant, I grin against her skin. “We can do them whenever you want.”
ChapterFifteen
Taylor
Atticus’s chest is the best pillow in the world. Maybe a little firmer than what I’m used to, but his skin is like brushed satin over smooth steel and the beat of his heart in my ear is more soothing than a Gregorian chant.
I’m half dozing, enjoying the feel of his warm skin against mine, when a distant series of pings tugs me from the threshold of sleep.
I jerk up to a seat. My phone.Finley. Shit.
The sun’s rays slanting through the window are angled lower than they were just a minute ago. Maybe it was a couple of hours ago.
I shift away from Atticus’s warmth. His hand tightens around me, luring me back, his eyes still closed. I give in for a few blissful seconds and then my phone pings again.
“I think that’s Finley,” I say, my voice low.
His drowsy, soft eyes meet mine and then sharpen. “Finley?”
Realization dawns, washing over his face and leaving a flush in its wake.
“We never called to check in.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “I think I left my cell in the truck.”
I scramble out of bed, plucking my shorts off the ground and finding my phone in the pocket.
Five missed calls and eight texts.
The phone rings in my hand and I swipe my finger across the screen to answer.
“Finley, hey.” I sit on the edge of the bed, facing Atticus, still sprawled in the center.
She blows out a noisy breath. “Taylor, holy hell, I thought you were lying in a ditch somewhere, or stung by killer bees, or choked on red gummy bears and dead.”
“Red gummy bears? That’s oddly specific.”
“I’ve been having really weird dreams and red gummies are delicious. Now where are you?”
I bite my lip and meet Atticus’s eyes, before my gaze trails over the rest of him.
He rolls to his side, propping his head on a hand, the sheet draped over his hips leaving very little to the imagination.
