Best Laid Plans

I don’t say anything.

She doesn’t either.

Instead, she inches closer, scooting nearer to me.

A cue.

I let go of her hips, lift my hands to her hair, and unclip it, letting it fall in gorgeous blonde strands down her back. She gasps.

I move her hair to the side and press a soft kiss to her neck. A groan works its way up my throat. “Arden?”

“Yes?” That one word is full of so much desperate need.

It’s time to let her know that yes is what I want from her. That yes is how I feel.

“Whatever comes next, I don’t want to mime it.”





34





Arden





I’ve never thought of myself as a risk-taker. It’s not that I’m scared of taking chances. It’s that I’m a plotter. When I’ve made big choices—where to go to college, how to open a business, when to buy a home—I’ve done all my homework.

I’m a person who likes to prep. Technically, I can say I’ve prepped for this possibility during the last week.

But I’m most definitely taking a risk.

A huge one.

One my body is positively begging me to take.

As I turn my face toward Gabe, it’s not only my body urging me on. It’s my heart. It thumps loudly against my chest for him. This man has earned it, and I want him to have my heart, my mind, my body.

I don’t think he was trying to win me, but the race is nearly run, and I’m pretty sure my heart wants to cozy up with him. He’s kind and funny and good, and so damn sexy. He takes care of me, and he pushes me when I need it. He’s a friend, but he’s so much more, and I want the here and now, and I want the after.

My chest tightens, though, because I don’t know if he feels the same.

Even so, I’m going to dive in.

Risk our friendship.

Risk my heart.

Sometimes, desire is stronger than logic.

Hell, maybe it is all the time.

I turn around, straddling him, and I clasp his face in my hands. His eyes glimmer with beautiful desire, with a lust that ignites me from head to toe. How is it possible to be more aroused? But it is, and I am. I’m dying for him. For this man I shouldn’t be falling for except that it’s too late. I’ve fallen for him, and I want more than one night.

This might be a mistake, but I’ll deal with that in the morning. I can’t stand the thought of losing him as a friend, but right now I can’t stand the thought of this night ending either.

Everything crackles between us, like the air before a lightning strike. We are the lightning strike. He licks his lips, and the need to kiss him is maddening.

I’ve been building up to this moment, to speaking my mind, to feeling empowered. I am empowered as I tell him exactly what I want. “Let’s give in tonight. Because I want to kiss you so much I might go insane.”

His lips part on a sexy groan. “Let’s give in and go mad together.” His hands lace through my hair, and in a second, in the span of a heartbeat, they’re curled around my head, and he’s pulled me close, his mouth claiming mine.

We kiss.

It’s not slow. It’s not an exploration. It’s a supernova, a burst of light and heat. He claims my mouth, and I claim him right back, kissing ferociously. We are fierce new lovers, taking, giving.

Wanting.

His hands rope through my hair, and I hold his face, my thumbs running over his stubbled jawline as we devour each other’s mouths.

Our tongues skate together, our breaths mingle. Excitement blares through me. This is what he promised. This is what I’ve sought. To be kissed into blissful oblivion. And I want him to know. I want to tell him. Somehow, I extricate myself, my breath coming faster. “Blissful oblivion,” I murmur. “That was most definitely blissful oblivion.”

“It was. And I’ve wanted it for so long.”

“You have?” My voice rises with wonder. Has he wanted me before this one-week project? I’ve never considered that. Never thought that was a remote possibility.

He tugs me closer. “So goddamn long. I want you so much. I know you want to be friends, but right now . . . tonight?” He takes a beat, stares into my eyes. “Let me be your lover.”

No words have ever thrilled me more. A surge of pleasure races through me, settling between my legs in an insistent hum. I can’t think about what he means by how long because all I can think is right now. “Yes,” I moan, and I dive back into the kiss.

This time it’s more than a kiss. It’s a grind and a press. It’s a prelude to fucking.

I rock my pelvis against him, feeling the hard outline of his erection, pressing my breasts against him, seeking contact everywhere.

My thoughts go foggy. They’re nothing but a haze of pleasure.

His hands slink around my back, and he unhooks my bra, my breasts falling free. He pulls back, and a hiss falls from his mouth—a hiss of appreciation—as he gazes at me. “Have I mentioned you ought to be worshipped? Do you know how that feels?”

“Show me.”

He lowers his mouth to a breast, licking and sucking and driving me out of my mind. He lavishes attention on each one, and I’m keenly aware that my good friend has my boobs in his mouth . . . and yet, it feels so unbelievably right.

So unbelievably good.

Like it’s meant to be this way—friendship on fire.

I’m aching everywhere, exquisitely and desperately. Every flick of his tongue, every groan from his lips makes me throb more. “Gabe.”

He lets go with a hungry sigh and looks at me with sapphire irises full of heat.

I flash back to our night on the rocks by the water. He started then to teach me to dirty talk. I’m a quick study, and he lit the match, kindling the fire already in me.

But there was something I didn’t practice saying that night.

Something I’ve been dying to say.

To him.

I bend closer, brush my lips against his. I’m drunk on desire, I’m high with lust, and most of all, I’m floating on this newfound brazen confidence he helped me discover.

I don’t know what to do with the way my heart leaps toward him. He’s the man I’ve fallen for, but I’ll have to sort that out tomorrow.

Tonight, he’s my lover.

I run my thumb along his jaw. “Fuck me hard.”