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“So good. Best damn thing that I’ve ever felt,” I tell her, and she moans, her fingers digging into my biceps.
I can tell that she’s close, too, and I watch her face as I pound into her. Her eyes start to glaze over slightly and her mouth opens on a silent scream as her thighs squeeze my hips.
“Foster!” She chokes out, and hearing her say my name as she comes is too much for me.
I follow her over the edge, coming inside of her as I bury my face in her neck.
We both remain still, trying to catch our breath as we come down from our peaks. I kiss her neck softly as I gently pull out of her. I head to the bathroom to get a washcloth to clean her up, and when I return, I find Lilliana fast asleep.
I smile to myself, cleaning up between her legs and tucking her under the covers before I slide in on the other side and pull her into my arms.
I want to tell her that I love her, that I’ve always loved her, but I guess that will have to wait for the morning.
I fall asleep that night with my best friend in my arms and a smile on my face.
EIGHT
Lilliana
Wakingup next to Foster the next morning is surreal. I’ve dreamed about this happening so many times that when I first wake up, I wonder if I’m dreaming. I reach out, running my fingers over his arm.
He stirs, blinking blue eyes at me sleepily, and I smile.
“Morning,” he rasps, and I clear my throat.
“Morning.”
I can feel my face heating with a blush, but Foster doesn’t seem to notice. He’s busy stretching and trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. Seeing him like this feels so intimate. He looks younger when he’s just woken up or maybe it’s just that he doesn’t look like his usual grumpy self right now.
“Are you hungry?” He asks, and my stomach growls.
“I never went grocery shopping yesterday,” I tell him, and he nods.
“I’ll go down to the bakery and be right back.”
I nod, watching as he climbs out of my bed and pulls on his clothes. He’s acting like nothing happened last night, like us sleeping together is totally normal, and I’m not sure if that’s a good sign for me or not.
“Be right back,” he says as he heads out, and I wait until I hear the front door close before I let out the breath that I had been holding.
What am I supposed to do here? Should I just pretend like it never happened? Act like I’m totally fine sleeping with my best friend and that I haven’t been dreaming about doing that for years?
Does he regret sleeping with me? Did we just ruin our friendship? And right when I had just moved back here. Things will be so awkward between us now, and I know that I’ll never be able to avoid him. Not in this small town.
I climb out of bed and head into the bathroom before I can really start to spiral out. My eyes lock on my reflection in the mirror, and I gasp when I see the marks all over my body. There are a few fingerprint bruises forming on my hips and legs, and my body heats as I remember the way that he had taken control last night.
Red spots dot my breasts and chest, probably from his mouth. My hair is a tousled mess from having his hands in it, and I sigh as I start to untangle the strands.
I look like I’ve been well-loved.
Iwaswell-loved. I just wish that I knew what I was supposed to do now.
He brought up the marriage pact last night. Sure, it might have been a joke, but maybe not. Plus, there’s no denying that he liked what he saw last night. I mean, he thoroughly ravaged me when he saw me in my lingerie. I know that I’m a good designer, but it felt like more than that. It was like he wanted me, had to have me.
The front door opens as I’m pulling on a shirt and a pair of yoga pants. I grab both of our phones as I go out to greet him.
He looks gorgeous as he sets the bakery bag and two coffees on the counter.
“I got a bit of everything,” he tells me, and I could swear that he seems nervous.
