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FREE READ...

So this is a silly little story I wrote a while back for a Valentine's theme. I love writing Friends-to-Lovers stories and this one was so much fun, I thought I'd dig it out of the mothballs and post it as a free read here on the site. I hope you enjoy!

As with all content on this site, please do not reprint, copy or distribute. Thanks so much!! :-)

Warning: Mature content. Sex. Naughty, graphic, sizzling sex.

GETTING FRIENDLY by Moira McTark

Chapter One

February 14th

Twelve years of friendship. In all that time, he hadn’t done it. And he was not going to do it now. Absolutely not.
Matt Reeves clenched his jaw. Standing beside the couch with his best friend and roommate, Nichole Drake, folded in his arms, his hold had already lasted longer than platonic allowed.

Shit.

She pressed her body against his and peered up at him, blue eyes glistening, damp lashes forming dark points against her creamy skin.

They were friends. Best friends. The kind without benefits of a naked, sweaty nature.

“Matt, tonight is so important to me. My PR company, along with the reputation I’ve worked so hard to build, was going to fall apart.” Her voice, still ragged from the afternoon’s turmoil, had gone husky and thick. “But you’re saving me, like you always do.” Her gaze drifted down to his mouth, lingered there as her breath feathered in tiny puffs against the skin at that open collar of his shirt.

Fuck.

This was gratitude. Misplaced emotion under the guise of attraction. Because he’d offered to bail her out of a jam she was looking at him as if he were her personal hero, and that was enough to send stray signals to the wrong organ. Gratitude and relief. Appreciation. Nothing more. To allow himself to get lost in the crystalline depths of her eyes and her soft, parted lips, so pink and full, to give in to the folly of temptation, would be a disservice to the both of them.

She was his best friend. His love ’em and leave ’em best friend. The one he wouldn’t give in to loving, so the invariable consequence couldn’t become an issue.

The fists she held tucked between them unfurled against his chest.

He gritted his teeth. He’d resisted temptation all these years. He could resist now.

The fabric of her shirt bunched in his hands. Nichole’s head angled back as she pushed up on her toes, giving him a taste of the full body caress he shouldn’t want. Her fingers curved over his shoulders and—oh yeah—slid up into the hair at the base of his skull.

Christ! This was Nichole. Nichole, who trusted him with her own vulnerability and mattered to him more than just about any damn thing in his life. He forced his hands open and rubbed them roughly over her back, effectively replacing the previous embrace with a bear hug.

“Nichole, it’s okay,” he said, forcing the strain from his voice. “I’ll always help you. That’s what friends are for.”

She stiffened as he chafed his palms over her shoulders and pushed her back a step. Her head bowed, and he silently willed her to play along, praying when her eyes met his again they wouldn’t be begging him to put his mouth on her.

A few seconds passed and then he couldn’t stand it any longer. He had to see her eyes—know they were okay, she was okay.

Tilting her face to his, he caught a fleeting glimpse of hurt in her gaze before it turned bright and cheery. That’s his tough girl.

This was just one of those Nichole things. A moment where her impulsive nature and wild heart got the best of her. She might have wanted him for that one split second, but it wasn’t real. It was vulnerability due to stress brought on by equating the importance of one night to the success of her career. That, coupled with this obnoxious hearts-and-roses holiday, was all that lay behind her smoky gaze and momentary lapse in judgment.

As far as he could tell, it had been a while since Nichole had toyed with a relationship—or even a date—and with every retailer in the world using Valentine’s Day to make single people feel like shit it was no wonder she was looking to him. But as much as Matt strove to accommodate Nichole in all things, a romp in the sack wouldn’t be one of them. Friendships were lost when friends fell into bed together and that was one sacrifice he wasn’t willing to make.

She’d be glad he stopped when he did—and once the ache in his chest disappeared, he’d be glad, too.

“You’re right. That’s what friends are for.” She nodded, her eyes clearing along with the tension inside the room. One corner of her mouth pulled up, and she arched her brow at him. “I just hope you still feel friendly toward me after you put on the outfit I need you to wear tonight. Are you sure about this?”

Matt nodded. The guy she’d hired for the event had broken his leg an hour ago, and Nichole had been frantic about the show being ruined. Of course Matt would help. He’d look silly waltzing around dressed like Eros in some droopy toga with wings and a frilly crossbow, but he was willing to do it for Nichole.

He grazed her chin with a faux knock of his knuckles and smiled down at her. “Of course, I’m sure. How bad can it be?”
Two hours later, he knew.

“I’m going to kill you.” Matt glowered into the full-length mirror, speaking to the sliver of T-shirt and gray sweats visible behind him. Dread sank into his knotted gut. By Nichole’s hand, he’d become Eros, the Gigolo. It was humiliation in the extreme.
Nichole’s long red nails crept over his shoulders, and her slender arms followed to link around his neck. Her intense blue eyes, flashing with impish glee, peeked up over his shoulder to meet his gaze in their reflection. “Oh, please. As if a few little things like skin-tight red short-shorts and strap-on wings could ever come between us. Where’s your mythological enthusiasm, you hunky god of love, you?”

“I thought the costume was a toga or something. I didn’t realize I would be so…exposed.”

“Think of it as a swimsuit, only smaller and tighter.”

“I wear trunks.”

“Maybe you should reconsider your choice of suits, because this looks hot.” She shook her head. She was enjoying this entirely too much. “Besides, it’s part of the theme. You’re Eros. What did you expect?”

“Something that would leave me with a modicum of my pride when the night ended?”

Nichole snickered at that. “Sorry, I’m contracted to deliver an Eros driving his chariot around Club Kink in red briefs while he shoots sprays of rubbers instead of arrows out of his bow. Pride doesn’t play into this gig.”   

In the name of appreciation, the least she could do was pretend to feel bad. Obviously, she didn’t. “How come I didn’t get those details until I’d already agreed to do it? And why am I still going through with it now that I know?”

He looked ridiculous. Why couldn’t he have been some couch potato with a beer belly, pasty skin, and big, squishy candy drop nipples that made him ineligible for the role?

She walked around him and adjusted the fabric of his shorts as she ticked off her reasons. “Because I might lose my business if tonight isn’t a success. Your inability to cope with my tears, begging, and self-pity—the spirit of friendship and all. Plus, by filling in as my replacement Love God, you get to be my hero.”

Matt grunted. Hero. Well, it was nice at least one woman thought of him that way. The girl he’d broken up with only a few weeks ago certainly hadn’t. Peg had called him a coward. But he disregarded that statement because she’d also claimed he was in love with Nichole—which was absurd. He cared about Nichole and loved her as a friend. Sure, he had to fight a physical attraction from time to time, but was he in love with her? No. That was crazy.

Her ripple of barely suppressed laughter caught his nerves, and he leveled her with a glare. “You don’t have to giggle. I’m not that desperate to feed my hero complex.”

What a lie.

“Fine. This gets you off the hook for a birthday present for me this year. Is that better?” Her scrutinizing gaze dragged over him. It was unnerving and took everything he had to suppress the urge to flex.

She smirked. “I’d say you pass muster.”

Then, with a dismissive wave, turned and crossed the living room to where she’d tossed her PR binder on the coffee table. She flipped it open and casually leafed through the pages. “Seeing you in all your splendor sort of makes me wish you’d penetrate me with your big love arrow.”

The second smirk she threw over her shoulder promised him that she was playing, but after what had happened—no, almost happened—between them earlier this afternoon, it was all Matt could do not to groan out loud. His cock swelled within his tight polyester shorts and, clenching his jaw, he tried to banish the elaborate fantasies his brain conjured up of Nichole wetting her lip, looking anything but contrite, and telling him to penetrate her.

What the fuck was the matter with him? This wasn’t supposed to happen between them. Yes, she was a notorious flirt—her teasing banter always thick with innuendo. But until a few months ago, none of it had gotten to him. Now that she lived with him, however, when there was nowhere for him to run and hide, it suddenly took next to nothing to get a rise out of him.

A glance down at his straining cock noted the case in point. He forced himself to calm down and willed the blood back up to his head. Ultimately, it was the sight of those pitiful red shorts that worked the flaccid magic, and just in the nick of time. Nichole’s attention had been so focused on the PR for the club opening that she’d missed the whole show.

Lucky break.

With a resigned sigh, Matt picked up the rest of his costume and shrugged it on. The three-foot wide wings were secured to his back by thick leather straps crossing his chest. Apparently Eros was into bondage. Only for Nichole would he suffer through this.

He shot her a glare. “I ought to spank you.”

“Promises, promises.” She winked at him and then softened, turning serious.

Her stare lingered, their eyes locked, and he fought the recurrent need to pull her into his arms, take her mouth, and back her against the wall. He could almost feel her legs slide around his hips, her mouth and body move in sweet surrender to him—

Down boy!

Why the hell had he suggested she move in with him? If he’d known what having his townhouse saturated in her pheromones would do to him, he never would have come up with such an “excellent” idea in the first place. At the time, sharing the place had made sense. Her lease was up, and his roommate had just moved cross country for a new job. Her moving in seemed mutually beneficial, and no other two people got along as well as they did. Hell, they spent part of almost every day together anyway. Why not share the rent?

Why not? Because for months now—ever since that damn morning when everything changed—he’d been fighting the need to sink his cock into her, and he knew the fallout from that would be devastating. Nichole was notoriously fickle. She didn’t know how to have a long-term relationship, and she evaded commitment with the determination of a lifelong bachelorette. With the exception of his brother, Jack, who she’d been seeing back in high school, she never maintained a friendship with any guy once the romance was over. Not even the ones she’d been friends with first.

His gut knotted thinking about the last friend she’d dated. It had taken that sad sap years to get over Nichole, and friends was about as far from what they were now as two people could get.

Yeah, no thank you on joining those ranks. Nothing would come between him and Nichole. He wouldn’t let it.

She meant more to him than anyone. This crush, or lust, or infatuation—whatever the hell it was he felt for her—would pass like it always did. Like it had for twelve long years. He would be strong, just like always. Controlled. Restrained. He wouldn’t give.

He adjusted the too-small red shorts in the hopes of finding more coverage. Fuck.

Nichole scuffed her foot and then spoke softly, with no silliness, “I can’t tell you how much this means to me. Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it, Nickie. I’m always glad to help. It’s no big deal—so don’t look so serious. Give me a smile instead.”

A gorgeous grin split her face, and she leaned back against the arm of the couch. How the hell could she look so enticing in a pair of baggy gray sweat pants and a ratty old pizza parlor T-shirt with holes around the collar? The no-bra element of her ensemble might have played a part, but damn, she looked good in everything.

She raised her arms over head in a languid stretch, and her breasts rose against the threadbare garment. Matt’s body burned. His mouth went dry. His brain shut down and relinquished power to the substation below his belt.

Carefully modulating his voice, he said, “You’ve got to get rid of that T-shirt, babe.”

Quirking one eyebrow—another hard-on trigger—she dropped her hands to pull at the cotton stretched across her breasts. “But you gave it to me, and it’s so comfy.”

Comfy and thin. He could see every ridge and bump of her nipples. God help him, she needed to get out of that provocative thing before he forgot how much her mind and heart meant to him, and he ravaged her body.

“Don’t you have to get dressed?”

“Yeah. The limo will be here in about ten minutes.” Nichole jumped up and executed a perfect “Baywatch” slow motion run back to her room. “Just give me a sec.”

* * * * *

 Nichole zipped into her bedroom and, once out of view, dropped the façade of  unflappable gaiety. Her smile slipped away as she pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, shaking her head. This had to end.

With a deep breath, she turned back to the door, pushing it closed until an inch gap remained.  Forehead resting against the frame, she took one last glance at Matt, savoring the view.

He scowled that perpetually sexy scowl of his, cursing at the thick leather strapped across his well defined chest.

She swallowed hard, thinking about his bare skin and all those layered muscles under her fingertips. She’d been reckless. Unable to keep her hands to herself, she’d used every lame excuse she could think of to touch him. The costume itself probably consisted of less than six inches of actual fabric, and she’d found a way to fiddle with and straighten every millimeter of it.

Cheap feels, that’s what she’d taken. She’d be ashamed if they hadn’t been so worth it. Besides, Matt hadn’t even noticed. He was too pissed off about the skimpy getup she’d packed him in to realize she’d all but mauled him.

She should feel guilty, objectifying someone she cared about so much. But Matt was heart-stopping hot; built tall and lean, with chiseled muscles that attested to his love of the outdoors. And she was beyond restraint. Forces outside her control fueled the insanity of her lust. It was Valentine’s Day. Everywhere she turned, posters and commercials advertised products with the backdrop of passion that threatened to burn out of control. Diamonds, perfume, stuffed animals and greeting cards—she couldn’t turn around without a reminder that she, too, longed for a lingering stare and tentative touch filled with the promise of seduction.

Matt had inadvertently been feeding her fantasy file since they’d moved in together. For more than a decade, they’d shared a bond beyond simple friendship. At least from her perspective, what she had with Matt was unique in the universe. He understood her and made her feel safe and whole in ways no one else could. It was something she was used to, counted on, loved. Something that made the limitations of friendship tolerable. But when he walked around in a towel, with drops of water clinging to the forbidden stretch of curls beneath his navel, or stretched after a game of hoops at the gym with the guys—her mouth all but watered. How was she supposed to think when the bulk of his muscular shoulders and biceps rotated, bunched, and extended in front of her?

Of course, Matt had no idea how he affected her. He had no idea she had to change her panties after catching him with one arm braced against the freezer door as he drank orange juice straight from the carton. Or that she had nearly orgasmed when she found him shirtless under the sink in the kitchen, his jeans loose around his hips, his abdominal muscles flexing as he worked the wrench. It had taken every ounce of restraint she could muster not to drop to her knees, straddle his thighs and go after him with her mouth.

He had no idea she couldn’t sleep at night because the images of him that scrolled through her mind left her aching and desperate. That she’d abused one battery operated friend after another until the motors burned out because she was desperate for him.

He had no idea, because they were just friends—and she’d learned long ago that Matt didn’t want more. Back in college, she’d summoned the nerve to broach the subject, and she’d gotten so far as to rest her palm against his chest and ask if he’d ever thought about the two of them together. Matt had shut her down with a single word response. No. Then he’d given her a hug and walked out of her room.

She’d accepted it and moved on. Mostly.

They were friends…best friends…lifelong, touchy-feely friends. Only every time she knocked him in the arm, rested her hand against his shoulder to lean in and tell him a secret, or pressed her cheek against his forehead to test for a fever—her worst offense to date since the guy hadn’t even been sick—it was no more than an excuse to touch him. To feel the sizzle across her skin, the simmer in her belly, that accompanied the slightest contact. But all the games were about to end.

He’d almost kissed her tonight. As she stood within the circle of his arms, she’d known with complete certainty  he was a hair’s breadth away from giving in. He hadn’t acted on the impulse, but at least physically, to some degree, he wanted her.
He wanted her, she wanted him—and knowing that, she came to a decision. The sleepless nights and D cell dependency were about to end. No more frustration spiked outbursts she had to blame on PMS. He’d shown her a chink in the armor of his resolve and now, come hell or high water, she was going to get Matt into her bed. Out of her system. And then their friendship would survive.


Chapter Two

“Hey, I’m just about ready,” Nichole called from her bedroom as Matt adjusted the leather straps of his wings. Damn, she was fast. Probably the only woman in the world who could primp in less time than it took Matt to get ready, and she was off limits. Someone upstairs had it in for him.

Working the buckle at his chest, he heard Nichole’s bedroom door swing open and glanced over his shoulder as she strode out dressed for the gig. The metal snapped out of his hands as he choked on his tongue and jerked around to follow her progress.

She was difficult enough to resist in the clothes she normally bummed around in; the suits she wore to meetings, jeans and tees around the house, even her ugly, fluffy, antacid-pink robe looked hot. Her outfit tonight, however, spoke to his senses on a whole new level, one he couldn’t deny.

“So, what do you think?” she asked.

He couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak. If possible, her outfit revealed more than his did. She was dressed in a filmy white toga style dress that was knotted over one shoulder  and hinted at innocence…except for the way it cinched in with a bright red band under her bust, pulling the folds of sheer fabric over mounds of her breasts and rosy outline of her nipples.

It didn’t end there. When she walked a turn for him, the tempting curves of her firm ass and the barest hint of red silk panties flashed below the criminally short skirt with every step. Red ribbons snaked up and down her calves, securing her delicately-heeled sandals.

He couldn’t think.

She arched her eyebrow. “Well?”

“You need a sweater,” he gritted out between clenched teeth. “Christ, Nichole, you can’t go out like that.” The images flooding his mind were hot and powerful. Images of her beneath him, her ribbon-clad calves hooked over his shoulders as he buried himself deep inside her. God, this was Nichole. He’d fantasized about her, sure. But she’d never made his fantasies seem chaste before. “Look, how about you wear that red cocktail dress—?”

“Enough of the big brother protection crap.” Nichole cocked her head to the side and smirked at him. “This is Club Kink, and I’ve been hired to do the PR for their mythological themed Valentine’s Day event. I need to look the part. Besides, it’s fun.” She bent forward to adjust the ribbon snaking up one leg, peering up at him. “Kind of provocative. I like it.”

Holy shit.

He liked it too, and that was the problem. Her big brother protection idea was dead wrong. His emotions didn’t stem from any protective place; they were possessive. He had no right. Yet regardless of what his head knew, his heart and everything south of it screamed Nichole belonged to him.

He could only imagine where the average horny fuck’s mind would go upon catching sight of her in that skirt—Christ—with those panties.  Yeah, being one of their ilk, he had a pretty good idea. Bending her over a chair, pushing up that gauzy skirt and tearing down her racy red panties, topped the list with putting her on her knees taking a close second. Jesus. He could barely see, let alone think with the stranglehold his hard-oh had over his entire body.

It was provocative all right. And she liked it. His heart lurched at the idea she’d selected this outfit with the express intention of ending that romantic dry spell of hers he’d been contemplating earlier.

Stupid as it was, he didn’t like to think of her being physical with anyone. Nichole was no virgin, he knew that much for sure. But in the happy land of Denial-dom, he chose to believe she never gave it up. And this outfit wasn’t helping him with that. Shit! He liked to believe in the magic of her cold, empty bed.

Tonight, however, her outfit screamed come and get me. And she was in a provocative kind of place. If anyone took her home, no way would he be able to summon up the image of her slapping a wayward hand from her ass or turning a cheek to block an unwanted kiss.

“Eros, stop scowling,” she chided. “Do you want a drink before we go, to take off the edge?”

“Why? Are you nervous?” He took a step toward her and grasped her shoulder. Maybe she felt obligated to dress up for the job. Club Kink wasn’t an actual sex club, but its theme was unquestionably sexual. Maybe Nichole didn’t mean to send any signal at all.

“So does this outfit do anything for you…at all?” Her voice low and sultry, she peered up at him through those long black lashes tipped with glitter.

Maybe he just wished she didn’t intend to send such a wanton signal, when in reality, her outfit reflected the goal she had in mind. The look in her eyes made him wish like hell she’d dressed up for him, not some damn bunch of strangers at a club. As quickly as he thought it, though, he knew he’d never let it go that way. He couldn’t risk losing her.

Nichole bit her plump bottom lip and tugged it slowly through the grip of her teeth. “Well? Anything?”  Obviously her eyes had been on his face if she had to ask.

“You know it does.” He met her faux-flirtatious stare with his own dark, honest heat. “How can you even ask when you’ve got me in these shorts? A guy’s got nowhere to hide.”

Nichole’s smile faltered as her gaze tracked down his body, leaving the skin of his face, neck, and torso to burn in its wake. She lingered on his cock, as he knew she would. He felt no shame in his physical response. She’d known what she was doing. He didn’t have a chance in the fight against her flirtation. She’d gotten to him. So the utter look of shock on her face was a surprise.

Nichole tumbled back on her narrow heels, blanched, and then flushed red across her chest and cheeks.

“God, you’re…you’re…huge,” she stammered, her eyes still locked on his swollen shaft.

More blood plummeted to his groin. “Christ, Nichole, I’m a man. What did you expect?”

The way she stared at him had him scrambling for excuses and justifications, back to the shelter of the platonic purgatory where he never let her see the depth of his attraction.

“Hell, my grandmother would be turned on by that outfit.” It was his turn to have the blood rush to his face. Nana was rolling in her grave.

“Your grandmother?” A mixture of disgust and amusement lit Nichole’s eyes as she regained her composure and flippant attitude. “You’re bent. But I’ll take it as a compliment regardless. You put that thing away before you hurt someone with it. God, it’s a monster!”

Matt pushed his hands back through is hair as Nichole flitted around him checking this and that with her binder, messages on her phone, those killer ribbons licking their way up her legs. He closed his eyes, visualized the stunned faced every schmuck ruthlessly kicked to the curb by Nichole over the past twelve years. Not his. Not yet. And if he kept his dick in check not ever.

Heels clicked across the hardwood behind him and the tickle of something silky slipped over his bare shoulder. He blinked to find his personal temptation standing before him, hip cocked to the side, one svelte arm extended a length of crimson silk ribbon dangling from her fingers. “Tie me up?”

Hell yes. “No.”

“Matt,” Nichole laughed, her eyes glinting with everything he was fighting to resist. “I’m talking about tying these ribbons on my forearms similar to my ankles. Crisscrossing and then tied off. I can’t do it with one hand, especially because this stuff is wider and I don’t want it to wrinkle.”

When his heart started to beat again and his lungs loosened enough to pull in a breath, Matt glanced down to see the second ribbon draped over his shoulder. He didn’t even want to touch them after what he’d been thinking about doing with them, but he plucked the ribbons up anyway and went to work.

“Honey, this mood you’re in tonight is killing me. You’ve got to tone it down before we get to the club or you’re going to find yourself—“

“What?” she asked, a touch of challenge in her tone. “Making an offer someone wants to take me up on?”

His hands stalled with the ribbon wound half way up the creamy white of her arm. “What are you talking about?” Don’t ask. Don’t do it, man. You don’t want to know! “Are you into that kind of stuff?” He swallowed, trying to keep his voice even. “Being tied up? Bondage?”

Blue, guileless eyes peered up at him. So trusting, so sweet. Eyes he’d been staring into for twelve years. “I’ve maybe fantasized about it—I mean doesn’t it ever excite you to fantasize about something…risky?”

He couldn’t answer her. Wouldn’t.  

She shrugged, still watching him. “But I think you and I both know there’s only one man on this planet I’d trust enough to be able to indulge in that fantasy with.”

His brains and balls were about to splatter all over the walls. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Okay, so maybe that’s what was going on. She wanted to try something new and he was the guy she trusted enough to try it with. And hell, yes. The idea of assisting in that little lesson appealed like nothing else, but if Nichole didn’t trust anyone else to play, then…Great! Fan-fucking-tastic! Too bad. So sad. She’d have to do without.

Somehow he managed to finish tying off the ribbon without blowing his load in his shorts and if Nichole happened to notice that his raging hard-on had only gotten bigger, she’d at least had the decency not to say anything. He could pretend she’d been utterly captivated by the precision of his crisscrossing ribbon work…because it made her think about him tying her up—Fuck, no!

Okay, he needed a vacation. Monday morning, he was going into work and putting in for time off. Didn’t matter where he went, so long as it was out of this townhouse for a solid week.

A horn blared in the background, saving Matt from further torture, and Nichole spun into high gear.

“Let me grab my binder.”

Matt snorted and adjusted the taut fabric, trying to settle his cock into some kind of a discreet position. But after Nichole’s naughty confession, he suspected that until the demons were released, he doubted he’d have much wiggle room in his costume.

Nichole took the short flight of stairs down to the door and glanced over her shoulder, her gaze dragging back to his crotch.
Shit. Just having her eyes on him was enough to make him swell again. He scowled. “Stop that, or I’ll never get out of here. Grab your coat.”

“I’m not taking one,” she answered. “It’s only down to thirty degrees, and we’ll literally run from the limo to the club. and then back out when it’s over. Besides, sexy little nymphs don’t wear parkas.”

“How about wearing my overcoat? You’ll be more comfortable if you cover up.”

He’d be more comfortable if she covered up.

Matt stuffed his legs into a pair of loose jeans and jammed his feet into a pair of sneakers.

“I’m fine, Matt, but since we’ve just gotten the wings right, any chance you’ll skip the coat?”

Matt hissed and relented with a curt nod.

“Oh, come on, grumpy. If you’re cold, maybe I’ll sit on your lap and warm you up.”

“Nichole,” he snapped, his restraint perilously close to the breaking point.

She erupted in giggles and fled out the door. This was going to be a long night, and there was something very wrong with the fact that he was more concerned about Nichole’s flirtations breaking through his resolve than about standing around damn near naked in front of a club full of strangers.

* * * * *

Backstage at Club Kink, Nichole scurried to check markers and cue music. With everything running like clockwork, the event so far was a great success. When she and Matt had first pulled up to the club, the line to get in had stretched halfway down the block, and that was before sunset. Now at nearly ten o’clock, the queue wrapped around the corner, and the local entertainment news crews she’d contacted had arrived and set up their cameras to catch the show.

With five minutes left before Eros swept the stage, Matt stood in the center of the huge papier-mâché chariot, fidgeting with the leather straps across his chest. At various stations around the club, men and women hired out of the local dance academy moved to the heavy beat of the music. Their oil-slicked muscles gleamed under the lights as they stretched and bowed their bodies.

“This is so wrong,” Nichole mused, staring at Matt’s ripped physique, which somehow looked flat under the lights.
He shook his head and put a hand to his ear.

She tucked his gold spray-painted bow and arrow under her arm, grabbed a goodie bag packed for the VIP guests, and selected a small, clear bottle from the contents inside. Stepping up to the chariot, she leaned into Matt, savoring the warmth of his hand as it rested against her shoulder. “You need to rub some of this into your skin so your body stands out more.”
“What?” He pulled back and fixed his scowl on the bottle in her hand.

“Oil up!”

Matt rolled his eyes, the muscles of his jaw flexing as he took the bottle from her and grumbled something she couldn’t quite catch. Although, she was pretty sure it contained a colorful assortment vulgarities she’d just as soon miss.

He rubbed the slick liquid across his chest in a couple of awkward strokes that left him glistening with an oily mark of Zoro. Then he held out his hands. “Good enough?”

“Not hardly. Let me do it for you,” she groused, grabbing the open bottle and pouring a generous portion of oil into her palm. Then she snapped the lid closed, dropped the bottle back into the bag, and pitched it behind the rear curtain.

She’d been running in business mode since they’d arrived at the club and it wasn’t until she stood poised to rub oil into Matt’s chest that her focus slipped back to her plans for seduction. What serendipity to find him in need of a good rubdown. It gave her a perfectly legitimate excuse to touch him, and in a way that was much more intimate than any feigned concern over a fever could ever be.

She settled her open palms against his chest, and her senses immediately dulled to the environment and any stimulus beyond the firm resistance beneath her touch. The scent of peppermint assailed her as she smoothed a slick sheen over Matt’s pecs, circling his solid muscles in outward strokes, working under and around his wing harness until she’d covered his shoulders and biceps as well.

Her mouth went dry and her throat tight as she traced her fingers down the hollow between his pecs to the ridged terrain of his abdomen. His tightly wrapped muscles ticked under her caress, and her strokes stalled as she ran out of skin.

The pounding of her heart seemed louder than the music and she wondered if Matt could feel her pulse slamming through the tips of her fingers as they traced each ridge and valley. She brushed his nipple with her thumb, and his hand shot out. He snared her wrist in his tight grip.

She released a gasp and her gaze shot upward to meet his dark stare.

“Nichole—”

The tempo of the music changed, and her heart raced into overdrive. Showtime! There was only one thing left to do; one thing she hadn’t mentioned to Matt. It was part of the show and definitely part of her plan.

The lights flashed bright and the curtain that ran around them dropped to the floor. Four hundred sets of eyes fixed on them, and a roar of excitement burst through the crowd.

Matt still gripped her wrist as she stood outside the chariot staring up at him.

“One more thing for the show. Forgive me.” She slinked her free hand up his chest and, with speed and determination, dragged him into a kiss. His lips were a firm line against her mouth as he took it like a dose of castor oil. She’d known he’d fight it, and she tamped down the disappointment threatening to well within her regardless. She eased back, and he relaxed a little bit. The master of restraint. Too bad. She wasn’t done with him yet.

Her fingers found the soft curls at the nape of his neck and sifted through them as the tip of her tongue touched the corner of his mouth and traced over the hard seam of his lips.

Nothing.

Time seemed to stall. Regret nudged past the hope surging inside of her.

Her eyes opened, and she met his warning glare. She’d gone too far, crossed the line, and for nothing. He didn’t want her.
“Matt,” she whispered on a breath against his mouth.

A tic fluttered at the corner of his eye, a falter in his stone-solid resistance, and his control snapped. He jerked her roughly against his chest and crushed his lips onto hers, plundering her mouth in the most demanding, invasive, and spectacularly punishing kiss she’d ever experienced.

Her legs went weak as his tongue delved deeply into her mouth, stroking and teasing with each thrust and then retreating, until she opened wider. Pressing closer to him, she gave herself over completely, moaning into his mouth—and then gasped in confusion when he pushed her away.

The crowd erupted in cheers, whoops, and whistles.

Nothing existed but them. Nothing else mattered. “Let’s get out of here,” she whispered, ready to throw her career away if he’d leave with her and continue that kiss for a few more minutes, or forever.

The corner of Matt’s mouth curved up, and he growled, “Give me my bow and arrow.”

 
Chapter Three

 Off stage, Nichole fumbled through her binder, turning the pages in mock concentration as if her focus were on something other than the devastating kiss Matt had just laid on her.

He’d kissed her.

Well, to be honest, she’d kissed him, but he’d kissed her back. Completely.

Heat swirled through her belly as she ran the tip of her tongue over her lips,  still tender from the brutal assault of his mouth.
She’d pushed him, and his restraint had broken. Now she had a few hours to wait and wonder before she found out if he’d let her push past his limit again. He’d have to. She couldn’t go on like this.

A light hand on her elbow broke her from her reverie and she jerked her attention to the slight woman standing in front of her.

“Lindy, you made it!” Nichole hauled her friend into a fierce hug. Lindy Dorn was one of Nichole’s closest friends and the owner of the Whips and Licks Sex Shop, which had supplied VIP goodie bags for the event. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”

“Hell, yes. I did. I wouldn’t miss out on all this free promo for my store, or the opportunity to see Matt strut his tight little ass up there. Dibs on Eros when you’re done with him.”

Nichole bristled with jealousy, even though she knew Matt wasn’t anywhere close to being Lindy’s type.

“That was some kiss between you guys. Was it planned?”

“Sort of…but not really,” she admitted, feeling like a fool. “Matt didn’t know.”

“It’s about time. You two would be so damn good together, if you’d ever stop pussyfooting around.”

“We’re friends, Lindy. That’s all. I don’t think we could ever be more.”

“Yeah, I totally got that from the part where his tongue was in your mouth, and you were practically dry-humping his chariot.”

Nichole shook her head and flushed from the memory of his taste on her tongue. “I mean aside from the physical, Matt doesn’t feel that way about me. He isn’t in love with me. But maybe there’s room for just one night…with no strings.”

Lindy drew up one perfectly arched brow in question. “You think Matt doesn’t love you, but might give you no strings? What about you? You think no strings is even possible from your end?”

She pinched her mouth shut and shrugged. Of course it was. She had her eyes open and knew what to expect—and what not to.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Which tells me you’re in deeper denial than I thought. I strongly recommend you stick to a vibrator and skip the part where you lure Matt into bed for no-strings sex. It’s a bad idea, honey. Come on, you know that.”

“No. I don’t know that,” she snapped, her voice rising against her will. “What I do know is that my relationship with Matt is the most important thing in my life, and for months I haven’t been able to think about anything but getting him on top of me. I’m going to ruin everything if I act like some bitch in heat every time he comes near me.”

“God, is this all because of that one night?”

“Technically, it was morning,” Nichole said quietly, her focus fixed on a speck of dust conveniently adrift a few feet to the left of Lindy’s accusing glare.

No matter how many times she tried to block it, forget it, or pretend it hadn’t happened, that morning two months ago changed everything, and she’d been in a losing battle with her fantasies ever since.

She and Matt had spent the evening in a marathon game of Trivial Pursuit that began as a battle for bragging rights, turned into a drinking game, and after hours of over-consumption, degenerated into a plastic-pie-piece-flinging free for all, ultimately ending with the two of them passed out on the couch together.

No harm, no foul.

At least, not until she awoke from an intensely sexual dream to discover that the hands and mouth she’d been glorying in actually belonged to Matt. His face was burrowed against her neck; one hand cupped her breast, while the other drew her hips against his cock’s hard bulge. Their legs were tangled together, and Nichole’s fingers wound through the silky waves of his hair. For a moment, she wondered what would happen if she feigned sleep.

How far would it go?

A low, rumbling moan ground out of Matt. He rocked his groin against hers and pulled her thigh over his hip. “Nichole….”
The sound of her name on his lips slammed through her like a tidal wave, washing away all reason and leaving her wet and aching with need. It was the blow that shattered her restraint and sent her desire spiraling out of control. After all of the years, maybe there was a chance.

Her thumb traced the line of his brow, possibilities winding through her mind.

“Matt,” she whispered.

He went still against her, the corners of his mouth pulling down as he squinted one eye open and settled his gaze on her.

“Oh, Christ!” He jolted against the back of the couch and scrambled over her to get to his feet. Raking his hands through his hair, he took several steps back as though there weren’t enough space on the planet to make him comfortable. “I’m sorry. You should have slapped me.”

She shook her head, trying to throw off the disappointment before he read it in her eyes, and forced a light chuckle. “Don’t sweat it. I just woke up, too.”

“Shit, are you sure?”

No. “Of course. It was nothing.”

“God, I’m sorry.” He stared at her, his eyes unreadable. “I can’t believe I did that.”

She dismissed it with a wave of her hand.

“Okay, Nickie,” he managed as he tripped over the edge of the rug. “Thanks for being cool about it.” And with a nod, he escaped to his room.

Yes, that’s what she would do. She’d be cool about it.

A while later Matt went to work, and she took care of her business at home. As the day wore on, she tried to put the incident behind her. Tried not to think about his palm warming her breast or the tightening of his fist on the fabric of her jeans. She tried to ignore the tide of lust that rose as she remembered the husky sound of her name riding his breath. But she couldn’t help wondering… He’d said her name. Which meant, he was dreaming about her. It had to mean something.

Hope bore into her heart and held its ground until that evening. She sat on the couch and tried to focus on her latest paperback, waiting for Matt to get home. She planned to talk to him, to be honest and see if there was a chance for anything more between them. But at nine-thirty, when the door finally opened and Matt burst into the townhouse, he wasn’t alone.

Peg, a leggy blond he’d taken out a couple of times, was with him. He dragged her into his room without so much as a hello—and using no words at all, drove home the point that there was nothing between him and Nichole but friendship.
For romance, he ordered out.

And that was that. Except Nichole couldn’t stop thinking about those few moments of intimacy she’d shared with him. It wasn’t the beginning of a love affair. It was physical.

Sexual.

It hadn’t been  enough.

After that, she couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t get her mind off the possibilities that lay beneath her best friend’s pants. Even now, months later, she wasn’t any better off than she’d been that first night. She needed to get him out of her system. She needed relief. And after that kiss—she intended to get it.

Her justifications were firmly in place as she met Lindy’s stare. “I’m going crazy. He’s all I can think about.”

Trying to beat out all of Lindy’s buts and what-ifs, she raced on, defending her plan, “If we do it—quick, and it’s over and done with—it’ll finally be out of my system, and we can go on as friends.”

“What? Suddenly twelve years of attraction is simply—poof—going to vanish? How can you possibly be trying to sell me this?”

“I’ve managed my feelings for Matt just fine up ‘til now. There’s a new edge to tension and it’s getting in the way. I’m not acting like myself around him and he’s wondering what the hell is going on. I just want us to be like we were. Easy and comfortable, with nothing coming between us.”

“So you’re going to drag him into bed, use him for the night, and then, having screwed him out of your system, go back to being BFFs.”

“Yes, but in a way better than how you make that sound.” Hopefully it wouldn’t come to actual dragging. Matt had a habit of coming through for her, and hopefully this would not be the exception.

“Nichole,” Lindy took her hand and squeezed it gently. “If you do this, what you had before won’t be enough for you.”

“Yes, it will.” Her chest tightened painfully. She wouldn’t accept that possibility. “He gives me everything I need.”

“Except a stiff cock between your legs on a regular basis, the need for which is why you begged me to bring you a new vibrator tonight. I can’t believe you killed the last one already. With an appetite like that, you actually think sex with Matt one time is gonna do it?” She shook her head, clucking her tongue.  “Two motors dead in two months? They should last for…well, a hell of a lot longer than they do in your clutches.”

“Why did I ever confide in you?” Nichole’s face flushed hot, and she scrunched her eyes closed. “What was I thinking?”

“That I could get you a wholesale price on a replacement—and you were right. I’ve got your new little buddy packed in a red bag next to the back door. Seeing as how you came through for me on these goodie bags, though, this one’s on the house. Now, let’s hit the bar. I’m parched.”

“Any chance you’ll settle for the VIP room upstairs?” Nichole cast a glance to the stage, where Matt planted one foot on the front of the chariot and shot multi-colored condoms out into the crowd. “I need to make sure everything’s running smoothly up there.”

“Wait a minute.” Lindy flared her nostrils on a long draw of breath and shook her head. “After that kiss in front of the entire club, you’re too chicken shit to go out where he’ll see you?”

“Yes.” Nichole answered, nodding her head emphatically. “Absolutely.”

* * * * *

Thought the party was still raging on at midnight, the PR portion of the night was over. The chariot had been parked, the curtain drawn, and Eros and his cohorts were free to go. Several of the dancers opted to stay and mingle with the crowd, but Matt, who was now dressed in jeans and sneakers, had had enough of the techno beat and the increasingly erotic antics of the club goers. Plus, he needed resolution on what had happened with Nichole.

She’d blindsided him. How in hell was he supposed to defend himself against a kiss he didn’t see coming? She’d said it was part of the act. Sure, Nichole. It was part of the show. Bullshit. Just like the outfit she’d made him wear and the innuendo that had been coming out of her mouth in spades. He couldn’t deny what was happening any longer. Not after her breathy plea against his lips. Not after that kiss.

He glanced over to the table across the room where she stood with her back to him, stacking a few bags next to her binder. As if sensing his eyes on her, she turned. Something tentative lurked in her gaze, but as he watched, her uncertainty evaporated and determination glowed in its stead.

Oh no you don’t little girl.

Not on his watch. No way.

She cocked a hand on her hip and let her head drift to one side. “So, I’m ready. You want to head home?”

 “Definitely,” he answered, more than ready to nip Nichole’s little sexual setup in the bud. “I’ve fulfilled my obligation to spread flavored condoms far and wide across Club Kink. I’m spent. Let’s hit it.”

“Okay.” Nichole grabbed her belongings and, once her arms were full, jutted her chin toward the exit. “The limo’s out back. Will you get the door?”

“Let me help you. You’re about to drop that red one.” He reached out to take the bag off her hands, but she clutched it in her fist and awkwardly fumbled the binder.

Catching the book out of the air, he reached for the door. “I’ll just take this.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure.” At the exit, a blast of cold air rushed around them, reminding him what a jackass he was for agreeing to leave his shirt and jacket behind. The limo sat parked only a few feet away, but the temperatures had dropped and the wind had picked up. Matt stuck his head outside and looked at the ground. “It’s frozen over slush, Nickie.”

She peeked out, took one faltering step, and shifted her weight. Her heel skidded forward.

Matt frowned. There was no way she’d make it to the car in those heels without landing flat on her ass. So much for keeping his distance.

He shoved the binder back into her arms, cursed as he levered down, and with one arm under her knees and the other behind her back, swept Nichole into his arms and carried her to the limo door where the driver waited. He dropped her, giggling, onto the seat and then climbed in next to her.

“My hero,” she cooed, snuggling close to him. “God, I’m cold. Wrap your arm around me, will you?”

Nice try Nichole. I’m on to you now. Blowing the breath out of his nose, he reluctantly stretched his arm across her back, resting his hand at the top of the seat rather than on her bare shoulder.

She wouldn’t have it. Instead, she grabbed his arm and tugged it around her, so that his hand hovered over her breast. “Come on, aren’t you freezing?”

God, she wasn’t playing fair. He tried to hold his hand away from her, but gravity and temptation worked against him. She looked so soft, so full, he wanted to touch her and find out if she really felt that way.

No! Get a grip.

Matt closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the seat. “Nichole, about what happened earlier. That kiss—”

She twisted and pressed her chest closer to him. “It was incredible. I knew you’d be good.”

He opened his eyes, pulled back a bit, and stared at her. She was beautiful. She looked up at him expectantly, and he could hardly force out the words. “Like you said, though, it was just for the show.”

She blinked, but didn’t look away. “I guess so.”

I guess so? He didn’t like the sound of that.

Her teeth chewed at her bottom lip as she waited for him to respond.

He bit back a groan. It was official. He was in hell.

As the car wove through downtown, city lights streaked beyond the windows. Nichole glanced around the vehicle’s luxurious interior, trying to figure out her next move. She’d pushed, but Matt was pushing back, and her confidence in her plan to end up in bed with him was waning. Then her gaze landed on the bar on Matt’s far side, and inspiration struck.

“How about a drink to top off the night? I’m wound up. You want one?”

“No, thank you.” He kept his eyes straight ahead; his voice, flat. “I’ll have a beer at home, kick back, and watch the fight.”

Inwardly groaning, she recognized the kiss off for what it was. He’d watch the fight, undoubtedly because he was pissed off and aggressive entertainment appealed to him. He’d drink a beer and kick back because it smacked of the unromantic. Screw that.

“Well, maybe I’ll have one anyway.” Rather than give Matt a chance to get the drink for her, she shifted, squashing him against the seat, and crawled across his lap until her knees rested on one side of his thighs, with her hands planted on the other. He didn’t move. Didn’t make a sound, didn’t let out a breath. God help her, she was terrified. But it was too late to turn back now.

She arched her back and reached for a glass—and a horn blared. The limo swerved and ground to a stop, jolting Nichole with enough force to buckle the arm she was using to support herself, sending her flopping across Matt’s lap. Her breasts mashed against his denim-covered thigh, while her ass cocked up in a humiliating display. There was no way her short, gauzy skirt still covered her candy red panties. Heat rushed into her cheeks and burned the tips of her ears. No matter what kind of effort she put into her sexy, she always ended up ass over elbow and looked like a fool. That’s why she and Matt would be friends forever—and never friends with benefits.

“Sorry, Matt.” She slunk backwards across his lap, the burn of tears building behind her eyes. He wouldn’t even acknowledge her. She wanted to die, wanted to plaster herself against him and beg him to forget what an idiot she’d just made of herself and promise she’d never try a stunt like that again.

Only through her retreat, her chest grazed his thigh—and encountered the unexpected ridge of his thick, jean-clad cock jutting against the side of her breast. His low, hissing exhale made her halt.

Then the limo was on the move again, and Matt slid his hands under her armpits. His jaw clenched, his muscles working as he hauled her into the seat next to him.

Afraid to meet his eyes, she stared at her hands in her lap. This was not the way she’d hoped tonight would play out. “Matt—”

“Don’t. Not a word, Nichole,” he growled. She’d never heard his voice sound so deep, so threatening. God, he was livid.
She closed her eyes and sat still, waiting out the rest of the ride.
 

Chapter Four

“Get out of the car, Nichole.”

She jerked her head up. She hadn’t even noticed the limo had stopped in front of their place. The driver opened the door and a blast of icy air, as chilly as the tone of Matt’s voice, rushed around her. With her key in one hand and the PR materials in the other, she bolted for the door, praying Matt would let her go to her room without making her face him. She was humiliated and furious with herself for being so stupid, so overly confident, so demented that she believed accosting the man who had been subtly but steadily rejecting her for twelve years would get her anything but more rejection.

As she reached the second stair, the door slammed behind her. She ignored it and kept going. Just as she put her foot on the top step, Matt caught her arm in a savage grasp and shoved her against the wall, sending her bags and binder falling to the floor.

“What are you trying to do? Ruin everything?” he gritted out, his eyes flashing with fury.

She shook her head and fought the tremble in her lips, trying to steady her voice enough to answer. “No,” she cried. “I—I’m sorry.”

She’d never seen him so angry before, and certainly not at her. She’d seen him pushed beyond his limits, and she’d seen him frustrated. But the only time she’d glimpsed anything close to this kind of rage was in college when a frat boy wouldn’t take no for an answer, and Matt happened to drop by just in the nick of time to save her. Then only the campus police were able to save the frat boy from Matt.

She searched his eyes, which glared down at her now, and saw resentment and betrayal in his gaze. “I shouldn’t have tried—”

“No! You shouldn’t have.” His stare narrowed, and he lowered his head. “Is that all this was about? Did you set up this whole emergency just to have me under your thumb while you strutted around half naked?” His hands snaked down her arms, closing around her wrists as he pulled them up over her head. Pinned them to the wall. “Are you just looking for a hard fuck—something different, risky—with someone you trust?” His voice rasped thick, his features twisted with emotion. “I thought we were friends. Don’t you care at all what happens?”

She owed him the truth. There wasn’t any choice but to tell him.

 “I swear my dancer broke his leg. I thought his absence would blow the event, but then you rescued me like you always do. Then I—I thought I saw something. When you were holding me, I thought you wanted to…kiss me.” Her heart was racing, but she couldn’t stop now. “I wanted you to want to me. I’ve wanted it for so long, Matt. I know we’re friends, but I thought that maybe this one time, you’d save me and give me what I’ve always wanted. That you’d help me get past these feelings and...needs I can’t control.” She rushed on, frantic to get the whole explanation out before he cut her off and shut her out. “I thought if you wanted me, we could have just one night to get it out of our systems. Out of my system. I’d be able to sleep again. I’d be able to stop fantasizing. I’m ruining what we have because I can’t control my physical reactions to you. All I can think about is what we would be like together.”

“Nichole—”

“Matt, I’m sorry,” she said, cutting him off. “I thought if I made it happen, I’d finally be able to stop acting so crazy. That we wouldn’t have this…this…tension between us. I know it’s because of me.”

She peered up into his eyes and saw the change. His rage was gone, but the intensity remained.
“We’re friends, Nichole,” he said. “That’s it.”

“I know you don’t love me. I know it wouldn’t have been—”

“I do love you,” he countered, his gaze steady.

She shook her head. “You know what I mean. It would have been just sex. One night of fabulous—”

“Shut up.” Matt tightened his grip on her arms and stared into her face, his shuttered expression unreadable. Then he pushed in on her, his gaze fixed on her mouth as his chest inched closer. Responding to his proximity, she held her breath.
He unclamped his hands from her arms, planted them on the wall at either side of her head and closed the distance between them, pressing the full length of his body against her.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, his voice low, rasping over every nerve in her body.

Her heart slammed against her ribs and the surface of her skin heated with a tingling charge.

His mouth lingered near her ear, his warm breath teasing the tender skin beneath it. “Tell me, Nichole.”

“I want you,” she whispered. “So much.”

“Just tonight, and then it’s over? We’re friends.”

“Just tonight.” Oh, God, was this real?

His mouth crushed down over hers, forcing her lips open. His tongue thrust deep, retreated, and then thrust again. She groaned around him, throwing her arms around his neck, and molded her body to his.

Pleasure raced through her system, melting the icy fear that had settled into her core. His hands were on her, rough and commanding. They gripped her thighs and jerked her off the ground, demanding she lock her legs around his waist.
“How do you want it, Nichole?” he growled against the side of her neck, rubbing himself between her spread thighs. “Do you want me to fuck you? Hard and fast?”

He clamped one hand around her breast, squeezing it as he pushed it up. He bit her through the filmy fabric around her tight nipple until she cried out and arched her back, offering him more.

“Or do you want me to love you slowly?” He eased his grasp, cupping her breast and circling her nipple with the pad of his thumb. “I can make you wait all night…until you beg me to let you come.”

Moist heat flooded Nichole’s sex. She pulsed with the need to be filled. She was so close to coming right now, there was no way she’d make it all night. It wouldn’t take more than one thrust of Matt inside her body, and she’d be over the edge.

He braced her groin to groin, pressing her shoulders to the wall, and slid his hands down her ribs, circling the curves of her hips and hooking his fingers in the waistband of her panties. He pulled his head back against the confines of her arms and, for one paralyzing moment, she thought he might stop. But then his eyes met hers, and she couldn’t deny the hunger and heat reflected in them. He wanted her. Finally.

Something deep in Nichole’s chest broke free, and she struggled to rein in the fugitive emotion before it screamed its existence through her eyes. This was about sex, about relief and satisfying a rogue need that threatened everything she loved. This was about tonight, and tonight only. Matt wouldn’t have it any other way. She wouldn’t let him see anything else.
With his fingers wrapped in the band of her panties, he rocked his hips against her. “This has been a long time coming, Nichole,” He scraped his teeth over her bare shoulder. “I’m going to make it worth the wait. So how do you want it? Hard?”
She gasped at the bite of elastic and silk as he snapped the band of her panties with a quick jerk of his wrist, making her clench and throb against him. Then, ever so lightly, he traced his fingertips down her abdomen and slowly tugged the torn fabric from between them, letting the friction of sodden silk heighten her arousal. “Or do you want it soft?”

Nichole couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She locked her arms around his neck, her legs around his hips, and all she could do was feel. The sensations ripping through her were like nothing she’d ever experienced.

“Yes,” she answered desperately.

Matt’s gruff laugh rumbled against her neck. He wrapped his hands around her hips, eased her away from the wall, and raised one eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Anything.” She met his hot stare with no reservations. “So long as it’s you.”

The light smile slid from his lips and he took her mouth, filling her with his tongue, taunting her with his teeth, searing her with his breath. He carried her effortlessly down the hall, kicked the door to his room open and tossed her onto his bed.
Nichole fell back on the mattress with a gasp and watched as the man she wanted more than anyone in her life stood at the foot of the bed bare-chested, his muscles rippling, and stared at her with a need that swept away twelve years of unrequited desire.

His hands moved to the fly of his low-slung jeans and Nichole parted her legs, baring herself to him completely. His gaze flickered to her sex. He popped the button open and groaned, “God help me.”

His body was the sexiest she’d ever seen. His chest and arm muscles, which still gleamed from the oil she’d rubbed into his skin, flexed and shifted as he pushed the denim down over his hips, revealing a thicket of soft, sandy brown curls and a jutting erection that bounced free of its confine. He was bigger than she’d expected. Bigger even than he’d looked in those tight red shorts he’d left at the club. Her mouth watered and her pussy throbbed, releasing more of her juices.

Her fingers dug into the sheets beneath her as the denim crumpled around Matt’s legs and he stepped out of his jeans. He leaned forward on the bed with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

The ache in her core was steady and intense. Demanding and impatient. Matt came for her, moving across the bed, between her legs, and over her body, until his powerful frame stopped above her. His arms bracketed her and his wide, chiseled lips lowered over her mouth, brushing back and forth until she opened to him. Her head angled back and Matt trailed kisses down the sensitive skin of her neck, grazing his teeth over her collarbone, scraping the slight stubble of his jaw through the valley between her breasts.

“Nichole, you feel so good. So soft.” His hand found her pussy, stroking through her slick valley. “So wet.” One thick finger pushed inside of her, and he groaned. “God, so wet.” He added a second finger, stretching her as he explored her from within.

On a quivering moan, Nichole spread her legs wider, opening herself to the sensations of his touch. “For you,” she breathed as she fell back against the mattress and reached for him. Her fingers sifted into his hair, drifted over his cheekbones, his eyebrows, the line of his jaw. She memorized every part of him. This was her moment, her chance to learn his touch, his taste, his scent, every secret his body held.

Tonight would be enough. It had to be.

Her hips rose to meet his thrust, her back arched as he slipped his thumb between her folds and circled her clit. Lowering his head to her mouth, he teased his tongue inside and thrust in time with his fingers, making her pussy clench around him. Matt broke from the kiss, groaning, and moved his mouth down her body. Withdrawing his hand from between her thighs, he gripped her hips. “I have to taste you.”

Anything. Everything. So long as it’s you.

His tongue swept through her sex, once and again, before he honed in on the sweet bundle of nerves at the top of her slit. He suckled her clit, nibbled and teased it, lapped at and kissed it with the caress of his lips until she writhed against his mouth. She throbbed with deep rhythmic pulls that seemed to draw from the tips of her extremities. Her heels lost purchase against the sheets at either side of him as her control waned and she gave herself over to the hold of his hands supporting her raised hips. Feasting, he burrowed back and forth into the slick of her sex, the flat of his tongue stroking hard against the point of her need.

She was so close. He drew her erect clit into his mouth and sucked her ruthlessly until her cries echoed through the room as the delicious pleasure-pain wracked her with a force so intense she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t hear. There was only the slamming force of her release, ripping through her as she came against his mouth.

Everything about her was heaven. So good, so sweet. So wet and hot, Matt almost came just feeling her orgasm under his lips. He had to get inside her. Now.

Matt shifted, reached for the nightstand, and grabbed a condom. Nichole moved beneath him, her hands drifting over his chest, his ribs. She stopped to play with his nipples, then teased her nails through the narrow trail of hair on his abdomen. He loved her touch, her thorough exploration of his form. No woman had ever made him feel so masculine.

Kneeling back on his heels, Matt rolled the condom over his shaft and chucked the wrapper aside. Nichole waited, her pretty pink pussy spread open and slick, ready for him.

“God, you’re beautiful,” she whispered.

His head jerked up to meet her stare. She seemed to be almost in a daze, and then her eyes cleared and she looked away.
“Women are beautiful. You,” he ran his fingers from her knees down her inner thigh, “are beautiful…gorgeous…incredible.”

A faint smile played at her mouth, and she shook her head.

His chest tightened with something more than the need to sink his cock into her. Something he didn’t want to think about.
He notched his head at her opening. “Look at me, Nichole.”

Her gaze locked with his and for a moment, there was more than lust in her eyes.

No, damn it. This was sex. It was what she wanted. What she needed from him. She wasn’t in love with him. They were simply meeting a need. A mutual, driving need.

“Inside me. Please. Now.”

Please. His cock grew more painfully full, and his blood raced like a hurricane through his veins. How could one word from her lips reduce him to such a state?

He pushed into her, inch by inch, savoring the silky descent while he watched her face, her eyes, her mouth. He stretched her tight sheath, burying himself inside her completely, and then drew back, setting a slow, even rhythm for the sensual, wet friction of their bodies moving in time.

 A part of him screamed to drive deep and hard within her, to pummel her body, and take them both quickly to completion, but he couldn’t do it. He’d waited too long to let passion rush the experience. If she allowed him the whole night, he’d give her every sensation, every fantasy he could fit in. But if they were only going to have this one time, he wanted to make it last. He would make it tender and sexy and slow. He would make her remember his touch covering the most sacred, hidden parts of her.

And he would remember how she felt.

Wet and soft and tight. The eager grip of her body receiving his, her reluctant release. The hungry kiss of her spread lips against his groin when he gave her all of himself. The rippling spasms of her muscles and the bite of her nails into his shoulders as he stretched her, again and again.

“So good, Nichole.” Not baby or honey or sweetheart. She wasn’t any of those things to him, at least not while he was moving within her. Not like this. He needed to remember who she was. Remember the limit of what they were doing. He couldn’t afford to get lost in the feel of her body parting for him as he pushed deep inside of her, or how it clung to him, wet and tight, as he withdrew, or the sound of her soft mews as they moved together.

He teased her clit on each downward stroke, building the intensity of their contact until she stifled a quiet cry and the muscles of her body contracted around him, tightening toward the point of their union.

“So good, so good…” Her voice trailed off, low and breathy, stroking over his senses and bringing him closer to her. “Please…please….”

He moved inside her faster, harder. A sheen of sweat covered his body and every part of him worked to wrench out the sounds of her satisfaction, the release he would give her.

He drove into her, again and again. Her head tossed against the pillow. Harder. Her arms flung overhead to brace her against the wall. Faster. She sank her teeth into her lush bottom lip.

In and out, so wet, in and out, so close. They slammed together until her legs tightened at his waist and her scream ripped free. The viselike grip of her body seized around him, dragging him over the edge of ecstasy with her. Every one of his muscles tensed, and his focus narrowed until there was nothing but Nichole, beneath him, around him, for him, and everything he’d been holding back and fighting to restrain was in that instant, freed. Pouring out of him.

He buried his face in her hair, his cock still inside of her, and voiced the only words in his heart, “Nichole, Nichole, Nichole….”

Hours later, Nichole woke to the butterfly sensation of cool silk slipping across her skin. Her lids lifted, and her gaze met Matt’s as he lay half on top of her, his weight supported on one arm.

“You meant the whole night, right?” he asked. “I get the entire night to work this…tension out of our systems.”

She blinked at him, trying to reassure herself she wasn’t dreaming. It wasn’t over. Not yet. “Definitely the whole night.”

A lock of hair fell across his brow and Nichole moved to reach for it, only to discover her hands were all but immobile. Her heart skipped, anticipation sliding through her belly as she craned her neck to see her arms stretched above her head. Her wrist were bound, one atop the other, secured with a bright red bow—one of the ribbons she’d used on her forearm—to the ironwork of Matt’s headboard. Her body surged to life, sensual awareness ramping fast as she gave the silky contraption a testing pull.

Secure.

Her gaze shot back to Matt, he watched her with undisguised heat burning in his eyes. “You said you trusted me. That I was the only one.”

No question. “You are.” She nodded, the tight, jerky motion somehow feeling unreal as if all sensation and experience beyond the slight pressure at her wrists and accumulating dampness between her legs belonged to a different realm.

“Good.” He leaned over and licked a slow circle around the outer edge of her nipple, then carefully caught the beaded tip between his teeth for one almost gentle pinch. A chain reaction of lust sparked from her breast down through her pussy and greedy for more, Nichole arched her back in offering. Matt pulled back from the tight bud and blew a cooling breath over her, watching with her as her nipple contracted further before dotting the tip of his tongue over the raised bumps of her tightened flesh.

Until now, she’d only dreamed of sensually erotic games of trust and desire. Tonight Matt was providing her a tender introduction.

Shifting to his knees Matt held the second length of soft ribbon in a loose fold, pinched between his finger and thumb for her to see—to wonder about.  

“God, you’re so beautiful, Nickie.” He brought the fold down to her nipple and teased it back and forth over the still damp skin, heightening her awareness—anticipation—with the subtlest of touch. He drew the silk down the swell of her breast, circling wide around one to the valley between and then repeating the action on the other side, allowing the long tail of erotic decoration to trail behind in a delayed echo of sensation.

She squirmed, acutely aware of her arms bound over her head. He was stimulating her, teasing, making her want more. Hands free, she would have had her fingers locked in his hair, pulling him against her. As it was, arching her back in supplication was all she had to offer.

The ribbon brushed down her belly, in a stark contrast of vivid color over pale skin. Lower he teased, to the fine curls above her sex. His touch, so light, it was little more than a breath, and yet so much more.

“Tied like this, Nickie,” he shook his head, seeming to struggle for words. “You look like you’re some kind of exotic gift, wrapped just for me.”

Her eyes met his and, hesitating to gather her courage, she moistened her lips with the very tip of her tongue. “You’re very own sex slave, lucky man. So how do you plan to use me?”

Matt’s breath tore from his throat in what sounded like a restrained growl, the muscles across his body flexing and ticking under her stare. “Nickie. You sure you want to play this game? Find out about all my depraved fantasies?”

If he only knew. She wanted it all, access to every dark fantasy and secret corner of his brain. For years she’d had nothing beyond speculation and rumor to fill in the gaps that took place behind those forbidden doors that shut off Matt’s sex life.

The Nickie-no-fly zone. She’d been jealous and relentless in befriending his girlfriends, always trying to wrangle details that were none of her business so she could flesh out the fantasies she should never have had. “I’m sure.”

His gaze sought hers and she held it steadily. Nothing this man could desire or do would scare her. He was the only man in the world she could give herself over to completely, without reservation or fear of recrimination. Matt took care of her. He loved her in his way. And she knew that more than any other place on Earth, in his arms, she was safe.

“Spread you’re legs for me.” Her pulse jumped in anticipation as she slid her heels apart meeting his command without hesitation.

His eyes trailed over her, fixed on the weeping folds of her sex and held. “So sexy, beautiful girl.”

Matt drew the silk down through the spread valley of her sex, crawling between her legs with a predatory gleam in his eyes. “Such pretty wrapping, and candy red.” He lowered his head, licked against the fine fibers where they covered her.

“Matt,” she gasped.

“You like that, my little gift?” he asked, using the bridge of nose, his lips and chin to stroke over her.

“Oh, yes,” she moaned, tilting her hips to grant him better access. Anything to accommodate. “More please.”

His head lowered again and this time his lips covered the fabric over her clit in an open mouthed kiss. He used the flat of his tongue to sweep across the sensitive valley, then the hard point to draw tight circles around the point of her need, his hot breath warm and damp and teasing through the silky trimming.

Nichole’s hips lifted as she sought to increase the sensation, pushing herself against the planes of his face. This time when his tongue slipped from between his lips he pressed it against the ribbon, traveling lower to the needy entrance of her body. He pushed inside of her, drawing the fabric in, in the process. He thrust inside of her, then licked a line between her lips, circling her clit before returning to her opening to thrust inside again. His invasive probing  stole her breath, the ribbon his naughty accomplice in this sexy play. It was pleasure in concentrated form.

A sultry moan escaped her lips as he teased her, drawing the smooth silk in and out. “God, you taste so sweet. I’m going to taste in you my dreams forever.”

Her body seized under his praise and touch. She wanted to believe him, take his  lover’s talk for more than it was. She wanted to think about him aching for her, needing her, fantasizing about her the way she’d done with him.

And then he was moving up her body, the ribbon held in his teeth as he dragged it over her skin. Damp with her arousal, the cool silk teased a nipple and fell across her breast in a slash of color over her skin. Matt groaned looking down at her.

“Crimson and cream. So pretty.”

His gaze drifted back to her eyes and held as he lowered himself over her, flattened her breasts under bulk of his chest until his lips met hers. Eyes open, lost in the pools of desire above her, she parted her lips, taking his tongue into her mouth, meeting it with the rough caress of her own. Twining together, she tasted her essence on him, moaned and sucked him harder into her mouth.

Without breaking the kiss, Matt’s hands smoothed up her arms to where he’d bound her. With one tug, he slipped the knot free, releasing her still bound wrists from the headboard.

Swinging her arms in a forward arch she brought them around his head to the flexing muscles of his back. He was so strong, so beautiful and finally, for one night, hers in every forbidden way.

Matt’s arms snuck beneath her lower back and shoulders as he pushed back onto his knees pulling her—still wrapped around him—up with him in the process.

Matt shifted, reversing his position on the bed so that his back was to the head board. “Arms up, baby.”

She pulled her arms over his head and brought them down in front of her, noticing for the first time how pretty the bow that bound her wrists was. He’d tied it with loops just large enough to remain full and without being sloppy or losing their form, and the two lengths of excess hung prettily down her arms. He’d been careful, neat, and his efforts made her feel treasured, like he truly thought of her as a gift.

Matt shifted around to prop a few pillows behind him and then leaned back into them, folding his arms behind his head. The casual position made his muscles bunch and stand out on in a way that had her wanting to lick them.

Nichole was on her knees, straddling his legs with her bound wrists and every wish held at her heart.

His gaze drifted over her with lazy satisfaction. “I want to watch while you touch yourself.”

Nichole’s legs tensed against his thighs, her fingers balling at her chest. “What?”

He stared into her eyes, something more than arousal shining in their depths. “I hear you at night sometimes, with your ‘electric razor’.” Nichole felt a blush rise to her cheeks at the idea Matt knew exactly what she’d been up to. Knowing her explanation of the sound he’d asked about months ago hadn’t been as patently accepted as she’d presumed filled her embarrassment and possibly a hint of guilty satisfaction. Had she wanted him to know?

His unwavering gaze was still leveled with hers. “It drives me insane to think of you touching yourself. To wonder who you’re thinking about.” The muscles across his chest flexed as though he were fighting to remain cool. “I want to know, at least once, without a doubt that you’re thinking about me.”

Molten desire slicked her sex, if he only knew. Every time she thought of him.

“You want to watch me?”

He nodded, his eyes dark with heat as she lowered her hands between her legs. He’d tied her so that one wrist stacked over other, palms down. Curling the fingers of her top hand under, she let her bottom hand drift between her legs, her fingers skim over the swollen, slick flesh of her pussy. Using the tip of one finger, she traced a slow line around the contours of her opening and then gradually pushed her slender digit inside, watching the muscle in Matt’s jaw jump all the while. Easing out, she used the cream accumulated on her finger and covered herself in her slippery excitement, sliding up and down the path of her sex, circling close to, but not over her straining clit to hold off her rising climax for Matt’s sensual game. She stroked and sank deep again, clenching at the sound of Matt’s groan. Reveling in his excitement. With each soft, testing stroke, her inhibitions dissipated, until she half moaned, “Can I tell you something?”

His nostrils flared, gaze riveted on her probing fingers. Her nipples were beaded hard, aching for a touch her captor wouldn’t give. “You can tell me anything.”

No. Not anything. She couldn’t tell him that he was all she ever thought about. That she’d never had a man sink into her body without a vision of Matt swimming through her mind. But this one thing, okay. “I’ve thought about you. At night, when I touch myself…like this--” Her finger sank, withdrew, and plunged deep again, curving within her to stroke the soft textured walls of her pussy.

His cock, already thick and jutting, jerked against his stomach as he wrapped his fingers around the rails of his headboard as if trying to restrain himself. “Christ, that’s good.” The sound of his teeth gritting together hit her ears before his next hoarse command. “Tell me about it.”

Somehow, though she still wore the Matt’s binds around her wrists, she sensed a power shift. Now it was Matt clinging to his restraint and Nichole leading him along the path to seduction. Playing coy, she used the muscles in her thighs and her feet behind her to angle back offering a hint more of her sex for Matt’s viewing pleasure. With one finger she followed the seam of her parted lips and then at her opening added a second and pushed into the tender flesh of her body with a sigh. “Why do you want to know?”

Matt’s gaze flickered to hers and held steady, the corner of his mouth kicking up, yanking the reins of control back into his hands. “So the next time I hear the nut wrenching sound of your vibrator as it pushes inside of you, and I feel like my head is going to blow off my shoulders, I can think about your fantasy too.” One hand came free from behind his head and took hold of his cock, stroking it with a firm, slow hand. It was a vision hotter than anything she’d ever seen before. Matt’s ripped abdomen flexing under the strain of his self gratification. “So tell me.”

A desperate mewl escaped her throat, dissipating in the sexually charged air between them. Her fingers dipped into her body as she answered, grasped for the words. “I fantasize about you touching me. Your mouth, your fingers, your cock,” her breath slipped out in a broken sigh. “You back me against the frig, tell me you’ve been watching me. Press my hand over the bulge in your jeans, rub against me. Slide inside of me, so slow and long.”

Matt’s hand moved over his shaft, stroking up and down, squeezing the angry hard flesh, pushing the fat vein up and down. His eyes her, on her hands. And then she realized his hands were moving in time with hers. As she pushed two fingers into herself, his fist pushed down over the base of his cock. As she drew them out, slick and creamy, he pulled up to the head.

“The next time though,” she gasped, so close to the edge her entire body seemed to have pulling into the tight center of her, just waiting to explode. “I’m going to fantasize about this. Tonight. About you watching me while you touch yourself.”

“I want to watch you come,” he rasped, his hand pumping in time with her hers. “Show me, beautiful girl.”

At his bidding, she came hard and fast, clenching around her fingers, her hips jerking as she spasmed in wave after wave of sensual bliss, barely registering Matt’s answering groan.

When her head cleared enough to think, she recognized Matt’s eyes locked so intently, it was almost as if he’d been unwilling to miss even a single second. His fist was clenched at the base of his cock, the muscles along his arm flexed and standing out in stark relief. He’d held back, waited for her to finish, and now his grip eased as he pumped again. He was going to let her watch him finish.

The idea was incredibly sexy, but....

“Move your hands,” she urged breathlessly, brushing his hands from his cock, “and I’ll show you how my fantasy ends.”

Then, bound hands resting across his abdomen, she caught the darkly engorged shaft between her lips, opened over the wide head and, savoring the salty sweet taste of him, ran her tongue around the circumference of his crown. Tightening her lips around him, she pushed with her tongue against the underside, simulating a tight entrance and taking him deep. Matt groaned, his fingers winding roughly in her hair as his hips pushed up. “God, I need, I shouldn’t—Christ!—Nichole….”

She took him deeper, pushing him against the back of her throat, swallowing around him to take him deeper still. Hard steel overlayed with the softest skin, filled her mouth, stretched her jaw, slid into her throat. Beneath her hands, Matt’s abdomen flexed hard as an unintelligible groan ripped from his chest. His body jerked with his release and hot jets of his come filled her mouth and throat. Swallowing every drop, she licked over his flesh, not wanting to give up the contact. Selfishly she wanted to keep him in her mouth for hours, days, suckle his flesh until it went hot and hard again, until she could hear her name, desperate and ragged, ripped from his lips again.

“Nickie,” Matt’s hands slipped under her outstretched arms, and he hauled her up his body, folding her into an embrace. With a quick tug of his teeth, he freed the bow securing her wrists, gently unwound the silk and rubbed the skin with his thumbs, pressing kisses into her flesh. “Baby, what am I going to do with you?”

She blinked, her heart stalling. “What do you mean?”

His face rubbed against the crook of her neck. “I mean I don’t know how I’m going to be able to look at you without thinking about what we’ve been doing tonight. I don’t want what we have to—“

“It won’t be,” she cut him off, unwilling to allow doubts to taint this precious little time they had together, when it was already too late to take back what they’d done. “Just take tonight.”

His hand smoothed over the bare skin of her back down to her hip, cupped her bottom in a gentle, possessive caress. “Tonight,” he murmured against her skin, rolling her onto her back. “I’m definitely taking it.”
 


Chapter Five

February 15th    

Nichole awoke in a tangle of limbs, her body awash in the tender sensations of a night spent in the throes of ecstasy. Matt had loved her over and over, until the inky night sky washed gray and they finally, reluctantly, succumbed to sleep in each other’s arms.

Not wanting to move, she savored the feel of him next to her, his naked form against hers, holding her like he’d never let her go. His chest rose and fell in the rhythmic contentment of one deeply asleep. She wouldn’t let herself move, would barely breathe; she’d hoard every second of this closeness, pretending that he loved her, until he awakened and life returned to normal.

She’d waited half a lifetime for last night, and the memory would have to sustain her through the remainder of her days. He didn’t want more. She might have been stupid to believe she would be satisfied with this trifling morsel of his love, but it was done—and when given the opportunity to taste his desire, she hadn’t been able to resist.

Her heart ached as she listened to the thrum of his heartbeat, felt the warmth of his skin beneath her cheek, and studied the way his muscles layered over each other to create the masterpiece of his chest.

He shifted and drew her tighter against him, his rigid cock nudging her belly, his palm warming her hip and thigh.

She arched into him, rubbing as though she were merely adjusting in her sleep.

“Mmm. Nichole.”

Touch me, please.

Rocking against her, Matt groaned and rolled over her, so his cock nestled against the slick of her sex.

He opened his eyes, and her heart stalled. She was terrified it would be a repeat of the awkward morning two months before where he’d been stunned to find her in his arms and fled the scene in a whirlwind of apologies. But as he looked down at her now, his gaze searched her face. He didn’t look startled. He knew who he was with. Knew how they’d gotten there—and he wasn’t running.

Neither was she.

Nichole’s soft blue eyes stared up at him, utterly open and trusting. After all of his resistance, the years of fighting urges and denying every need that had her name or scent wrapped around it, he’d finally given in and now here he was on top of her. If any other woman were beneath him, he’d already be reaching for a condom. But this was Nichole, and he wasn’t sure if last night’s arrangement carried over into the morning. Suddenly, standard protocol didn’t seem to apply.

She wet her lips and fixed her gaze on his mouth. “Just one more time?”

It took Matt an eternity packed into a single second to realize what she’d said and to recognize the blatant desire that burned in her eyes.

Hell, yes.

He knew that changing the rules of the game they’d agreed to last night might be dangerous, but after twelve years, just one more time seemed like a reasonable concession.

 “Just one more time.” His mouth sought the long line of her neck, and her fingers wound into his hair. He closed his eyes, letting his brow skim her collarbone. She was so smooth.

Her legs wrapped around him, bringing him into contact with the wet heat of her spread lips, already drenched in her sweet slick arousal. She squirmed against him, trying to take him inside her, but he held her in place.

“Condom,” he rasped against her neck, damning the generations of thoughtless, reckless, promiscuous fucks who had made it a necessary courtesy for him to wait one damn second longer than was necessary to bury himself inside her.

She stilled and looked up at him with desperation. “You know I’m on the pill, and we’ve both used condoms…every time. Haven’t we?”

He met her eyes, understanding that she was asking if it was safe. “Every time.”

The corner of her mouth ticked up and by mutual understanding, they dispensed with the preliminaries. He slid one hand under her hips and positioned the head of his cock at her wet opening.

“God, please, just do it!” she begged, wriggling against him, her face reflecting pure anguish at the delay.

Matt pushed into her, full length, groaning at the sensation of penetration without a barrier. Her skin sheathed him in a wet, velvet rub so intense it took every ounce of his control to keep from finishing right then.

Nichole threw back her head and opened her mouth in a silent “O” as he withdrew to the tip and then plunged back in, caressing her clit with his groin. She pulled her head forward, lips parted, and stared into his eyes, wearing an expression of pure wonderment. “Did you know…it could be…so good?”

“No.” He thrust into her again, and their eyes locked. He shook his head, grunting out the rest of his answer, “Never like this….”

“Virgins,” she half giggled, although her laugh turned into a moan on his next thrust.

He nodded and dug his fingers into the sweet flesh of her ass. “Glad we…waited?”

“No,” she gasped with a vehement shake of her head. He would have laughed if not for the contraction of muscles throughout her body, gripping and stroking him. Her eye squeezed shut. She was coming already. He drove deep, every thrust earning a louder cry from her as she crested her wave.

“Look at me,” he commanded, unable to stand the loss of intimacy.

She lifted her lids and opened her soul to him through those deep blue eyes, and all he could think were the words, I love you. The single line screamed through his mind. Begged, demanded that he give it voice. It sliced through his consciousness, tearing at his heart and mocking his conceit at believing he was in control. He pumped his hips, harder and faster. Driving in and out of her with increasing fervor until he lost all restraint and poured himself into her body, his voice ragged as a roar ripped from his chest and throat.

He panted, bowed his head against her neck, and rolled over onto his back, bringing Nichole to rest atop him. They lay there in silence for a few moments, long enough for Matt to slow his breathing and clear his mind.

What the fuck was he doing?

Nichole closed her eyes. It was over. She’d never have this again. Matt would never let her. She knew he’d seen into her heart when he’d held her gaze before losing himself inside her body. That momentary flicker of shock and uncertainty flashing across his face told her he’d seen through her charade, and his gaze had instantly shuttered closed. There would be no more nights together.

She had known that from the start.

Nothing had changed.

They were still best friends, only now with one sultry night between them.

“You awake?” he asked, his voice coarse. “Nichole?”

“Yes,” she answered, suddenly she realizing she didn’t know how to proceed from here. It was time to be friends again, but she was sprawled across his body, intimately molded to him and the logistics of a gracious exit seemed beyond her mental capacity. She took a moment to check her anxiety. This didn’t have to be a rush to scramble out of bed. She should just let it come naturally. Make it light, until they went their separate ways for showers. Laugh once or twice, and then act as if the whole, amazing, incredible, addictive interlude had never happened. Maybe in a few weeks, she’d go on a date—a very casual, no hand holding kind of date—just to prove to Matt she wasn’t carrying a torch. No worries. They’d be fine.

He stroked his hand over her bare shoulder and down her back, and stalled it at her waist. She knew he realized his touch was too intimate for where they were going. He moved his errant hand away and shifted from beneath her. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he leaned forward and tugged on a pair of navy track pants. The wide expanse of his back faced her as he asked, “You okay about…everything?”

No. Never. I’ll want you forever. “Oh, of course.” She pushed up on her arms and gathered the sheet around her. “Completely. Are you?”

Matt dared a glance over his shoulder. His attention flickered to the sheet, and he seemed somehow relieved that she was covered. His smile broke the tension. “It was fun, thanks for a great time. I needed that.”

Fun.

She wanted to scream, to demand to know how it could mean so much less to him than it did her. But she had no right. This was what she’d asked for, what she’d wanted.

Yes. Okay. Of course.

Casual and easy, just like she’d planned.

Emotion clogged her throat, but she pushed out the words and even managed a small laugh, “Glad to help out a friend in need. Although, technically, it was me begging for it. Will I ever live it down?”

He leaned across the bed and kissed her temple, letting his lips linger against her skin a fraction of a second longer than normal, and she wondered…. But then he pushed back from the bed and walked to the bathroom.

He didn’t look back.

* * * * *

The hot spray of the shower beat against Matt’s face like a thousand tiny fists demanding a piece of him for jeopardizing the most important thing in his damn life. How could he have been so reckless? God help him if she ever walked away.

He couldn’t bear it.

Wrenching the shower knob, he stepped out and toweled off. His eyes wandered to the oversized glass stall behind him. He should have taken her in the shower, braced her against the smooth tile wall and—damn it! He shouldn’t have touched her at all.

With a towel wrapped around his waist, he was still mentally berating himself when he strode out of his room toward the kitchen and paused. Maybe he shouldn’t walk around like this anymore.

No, talk about an ego.

First, Nichole would notice if he suddenly changed his behavior around the townhouse, and second, she’d already seen him in a lot less.

Christ, you’re being an ass.

In preservation of the status quo, he headed down the hall. As he passed Nichole’s door, it opened, and she stepped out in her ugly pink robe. His mouth went dry and he stopped. God, she looked good.

“Hey.” Christ, he didn’t have a thing beyond that to say. All he wanted was to push the fuzzy lapels of that terrycloth abomination back and run his hands over the soft curves he knew where hidden beneath it.

“Hey, back at you.” She laughed. And then, as if he deserved mercy, even in the slightest degree, she said, “Okay, so it’s a little different this morning—err, afternoon. We had one night of play, we’re allowed one day to recover from the fun and get back to just being us. We’re only human, right?”

The anxious breath he’d been holding back slipped out in a long sigh of relief and Matt reached for her, pulling her into his chest for a hug. “Thanks, Nickie. I swear, sometimes you read my mind.”

She chuckled. “I think we’ve been friends for so long, I don’t have to read your mind to know what you’re thinking.”
Was it just his imagination, or did her voice carry a trace of regret?

She cleared her throat, nudged out of his arms, and leaned back against the doorframe, picking a loose thread from the cuff of her robe. “So speaking of friends—I talked to Lindy while you were in the shower, and we’re going out tonight if you want to join us.”

Matt took a casual step back, hoping it didn’t look like retreat. He needed to think. Needed time away from Nichole to get his head straight.

“Not tonight, I’m sort of beat after…” his eyes trailed down her body to where her bent knee split the overlap of her robe. She rubbed one slender foot with those pretty red toenails against the front of her standing leg while she talked to him. What had he been saying? “I’m ready for a night in.”

“I know, a night at home is tempting….”

The heat of her gaze scorched his chest and his stomach knotted. No room for tempting. No. No. No.
Her voice trailed off track in his consciousness as he watched her knee rock up and down, the sides of her robe parting infinitesimally more with every motion. He wondered if she was nude underneath it. He hadn’t allowed himself to look at her when they’d first awakened, but now he couldn’t help but wonder if her skin still showed the marks of his possession. How long would it take to make her wet, to make her nipples bunch tight and coax the first groan out of her? Last night all it had taken was his kiss, a single thrust of his tongue into her soft, wet mouth, and she’d hungrily begged for more, molding her body to his, giving herself over…completely.

He wanted to taste her again. He wanted to live off her warmth, to exist solely for the sensation of her body climaxing around his.

Holy hell, she’s still talking!

“….so it should be fun,” she finished, her smile holding a hint of tension as she searched his face.

“Yeah, sounds like it. Sounds great.” Goddamn it, he’d become the guy who fantasized about fucking her, nodding like a jackass while she talked, and not listening to one word she said. That kind of thing just didn’t happen to him. He wasn’t that guy, didn’t want to be that guy. He wanted to be the guy she could turn to for the rest of her life. The guy she never fell for and never got over. He wanted to be the one who stayed, and that meant getting away from her now, at least until he could have a conversation with her without his fantasies ending up in her panties.

Christ, her panties.

What had he done? One night, and his brain turned to smut soup whenever he looked at her.

He had to get out of there. “Nichole, I’ve got to get some stuff done today. I’ll be back tonight.” What a bullshit copout—but he couldn’t think. His heart slammed against his ribs, and his head screamed a thousand things at once.

She looked stricken, confused. But she raised her chin and shrugged it off. “No, no…go. Have a good day. I’ll catch up with you later.” 


Chapter Six

Nichole unzipped her parka and walked into Brewer’s Pub, shaking off Lindy’s arm as her friend asked for the thirtieth time in ten minutes if she was okay. Really okay? Just pretending to be okay?

Damn it, she didn’t know the answer. Matt had rocketed out of the house hours ago, and from the moment he left, a hollow numbness settled into the pit of her stomach. She didn’t want to feel anything. Didn’t want to think about what it would be like between them. Didn’t want to think about how he’d rushed off. Didn’t want to think about the fact that the sound of his closing the door behind him had physically hurt her. She had no idea if she would be okay, and all she wanted was her best friend, Matt, to reassure her.

“Hey, I thought you said Matt wasn’t coming tonight.”

Nichole’s heart skipped a beat. She jerked her head up and scanned the crowd for the only face she wanted to see. He was standing at the bar talking to…Peg.

Her stomach lurched into her throat. He’d brought a date to the bar she’d told him she’d be at with Lindy. The very same woman he’d brought back to their townhouse two months ago when he’d wanted to show her there was nothing between them.

“Oh, my God.” It was a repeat of her ultimate humiliation. Not even the names had changed. Rage boiled past her incredible shock. She couldn’t believe it. Matt wasn’t a coward. He wasn’t a bastard. He couldn’t be rubbing another woman in her face because he was too much of a pussy to deal with what had happened between them. But there he was, standing next to that same leggy blond, pretending he had no idea she was watching him.

“Lindy, we’ve got to go.”

“What? We just—”

“Right now.” Her heart ached inside her chest as she spun for the door and bolted back out into the cold.

* * * * *

Matt looked up just as his brother, Jack, emerged from the men’s room. “Thanks, Peg. When I saw you over here, I wanted to come over apologize about the way I treated you at the end. There was more to my relationship with Nichole, but I just wasn’t ready to admit it, and I was an ass. I’m sorry.”

Peg held out her slim hand and offered a shake. “Thanks, Matt. I appreciate it. Take care of yourself.”

He dropped a chaste kiss onto her cheek and headed back over to the table he was sharing with his brother.
“Hey, man. Thanks for meeting me out.”

“No, problem. Where’s Nichole tonight?”

Matt shook his head. “Out somewhere with Lindy, I think.” He’d know if he’d been able to keep some of the blood in his brain when she’d been talking to him. Christ, what a jackass. “She’s the reason I called.”

Jack dropped into his chair and shot Matt an amused look. “So you’re finally looking to your big brother for advice, huh?”

* * * * *

Supporting her head in her hands, Nichole stared down at the single sheet of paper and dropped her pen. She pushed back from her desk, took the note, and carried it out to the narrow secretary table in the hall. Her hands trembled as she tented it next to a small porcelain bowl of candy Conversation Hearts.

Lindy had warned her, and she hadn’t listened. She’d been a fool. A stupid fool, ignoring all logic because she couldn’t stand the ache between her legs and the void in her heart any longer. She owned a damn vibrator. So why hadn’t she simply locked herself into her room with it for as long as it took for her to get some of her sense back? She’d pushed Matt into sleeping with her with the promise that it was just sex. But when he stared into her eyes, filling her body with his, she wanted nothing more than to tell him she was hopelessly in love with him. That he had always been the one to hold her heart. She’d ruined every relationship she’d ever attempted because none of the other men were Matt, so none of them would do.

But he didn’t feel the same way about her. And he’d made damn sure she understood that.

It was time for her to face facts. She’d been in denial for far too long. Her destructive actions stood out for the obvious maneuvering they were. She’d moved in with the man she loved, but pretended not to, because she’d have done anything to be close to him. She’d been living a perpetual lie, betraying the honesty and friendship between them she claimed to prize. Demanding they go to bed together, swearing she wouldn’t need more. But it wasn’t true. For all her schemes and grand plans, she knew now that she wouldn’t be okay. Not like this. Not trying to fit back into her lie of a life. She had to get out.
Her stomach was in knots; her throat tight and burning with the tears she fought to hold back. She reached for the bowl of candy, closed her eyes, and selected a single pastel heart. Holding the sugary sweet up in front of her, she read its message. Friends 4-ever. Of course. Hot tears welled in her eyes and slipped down her cheeks, and she hostilely swiped them away with the side of her sleeve.

She had no time to stand around wallowing in self-pity. She needed to get her crap together. She didn’t know when Matt would be back, and she couldn’t bear it if he brought Peg with him. She’d gotten his message loud and clear in the fifteen seconds she’d been inside the bar. Her romantic delusion would have no fairy tale ending. She’d hung onto the fantasy of them getting together for twelve years, and it was time to give it up. If she wanted an honest friendship with Matt, one that wasn’t built around false hope and buried desire, she had to leave. She couldn’t live with him, pretending to be his girlfriend, but with none of the added benefits.

She stooped and picked up a half-packed cardboard box and returned to her room to collect the remaining necessities she would take with her.

* * * * *

An hour later, Nichole stared at the spray of ice coating the Dumpsters and alley fencing behind the townhouse. She braced herself against the biting cold and clutched the heavy duty trash bag in one bare hand, wondering if she would have to chisel a layer of ice off the lid of the sludge-colored bin in order to be rid of her trash. She was packed and ready to go, and the sooner the better.

She pushed the handle with the back of her hand; the lid lifted an inch, and she let out a relieved burst of frosty breath. Raising the lid, she started to heft her bag into the bin, but stopped short when she saw the contents already there. A dozen red roses, bent and battered, were strewn atop a pile of Chinese carry out boxes and trash already occupying the bottom third of the dumpster. A red, heart-shaped cardboard box with a frilly white lace border had been shoved in on its side and an avalanche of chocolates cascaded over the broken stems and greenish noodles.

A Valentine’s day travesty.

The weight of her bag pulled on her arm, and the sight of cast aside romance did the same to her heart. Unable to bury the roses and chocolate any deeper, she closed the Dumpster and found another bin in which to drop her trash. It was heartbreaking.

Who would throw away love?

She stopped mid step, closed her eyes. “To hell with that.”

* * * * *

Matt pushed into the townhouse and immediately stopped short, dropping the bag he carried at his feet, his stomach knotting with dread. There were three cardboard boxes stacked neatly against the hallway wall. It was quiet and still in a space that always seemed alive when Nichole moved within its rooms.

A sick moan escaped his throat at the sight of a crumpled note drifting toward his feet on a draft of air from the door. Sweeping it up, the ground gave way beneath him as he scanned the note, hastily scrawled on a sheet of spiral-bound notebook paper in blue ballpoint pen strokes. His feet dragged like lead as he forced them up the short flight to the main hall.

There’s a part of me that is in love with you, and always has been. There’s a part of me that needs our friendship more than anything else in my life, and that part is normally in control, but lately it hasn’t been.

I was stupid. I know you aren’t in love with me. You keep trying to find ways to make it clear, and I keep refusing to see them. But I understand now.

I’m praying that you’ll forgive me and help us get back to the way we were. In the meantime, I can’t live here. I’ll be back for my things, but I can’t face you again tonight. I’m so sorry.

-N

“Goddamn it!” he roared, slamming the flat of his hand against the wall.

A sudden gasp and a flash of halted motion down the hall caught his attention. Nichole peered out her doorway at him, and his heart ripped in half at the sight. The skin around her eyes was red and blotchy; her lips were swollen, her nose red. She held a wadded up tissue in one hand, and her sweatshirt in the other.

He stalked forward and held up the note in accusation. “You’re leaving? Without even talking to me?” He was furious, devastated. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. Everything had gone wrong and he was out of his mind.

“Matt, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, with a ragged sob. “I wanted to be gone before you got home. I wrote that note, but then I changed my mind. I won’t leave like this, without talking to you.” She shook her head. “I’m so embarrassed, so stupid. I saw you with Peg. I understand—”

“Peg? You were at Brewer’s?” He hadn’t seen her, and Jack certainly would have mentioned it if he had.

Her eyes narrowed. “You know I was. I told you I was going there, while we were standing right here.” She jutted one finger at his chest as more tears streamed down her cheeks. “You were parading Peg in front of me, just like you did two months ago so I wouldn’t get any ideas about us. Well, I don’t have any! Mission accomplished. Only it can’t change what’s happened already.”

Christ, he’d known not paying attention this morning would come back to bite him in the ass. It served him right, but Nichole didn’t deserve it. “Please, listen. I swear—I didn’t realize you would be there. I—Fuck!—I was distracted while you were talking, you had that robe on and your knee kept showing. I didn’t hear what your plans were with Lindy. I didn’t even see you at the bar, but I promise you, running into Peg was purely coincidental. She and I are just—”

Nichole’s eyes flashed daggers. “If you say just friends—damn it!”

“No.” Exasperated, he gripped her shoulders, needing her to understand, needing to touch her. “Forget Peg. I was there with Jack. I had to talk to someone, and my best friend wasn’t an option…as she was the topic of my discussion.”

“That much I can relate to.” Nichole softened in his hands, and her head dropped forward. A long sigh slipped free. “Oh God, Matt. I’ll never forgive myself if I lose you.”

“That won’t happen.” His voice was tight, stiff. “Nichole, look at me.”

Her eyes welled and fresh tears leaked down her cheeks. She shook her head at him. “I saw the look on your face! You were still inside me, and suddenly everything changed. You shut me out. Because when you looked at me, I know you saw into my heart…I couldn’t hide anymore, and you saw it.” Her head dropped forward, eyes closed. “I should have been honest with you before. Friends deserve honesty, even if the honest truth isn’t what they wish it was.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” His anger washed away with her tears, and guilt ate at his gut. “You have it so wrong. I shouldn’t have left you like I did. I was…a coward. I shouldn’t have let you think it was because of the way you felt.”

She gasped for air, her lips quivering as she sobbed out her fears. “I’m terrified I’ve ruined everything.”

 “No,” he reached for her, unable to force more out of his tightening throat until she rested in his arms, her face against his chest, his hands smoothing her hair. “Nichole, you’ll never lose me. Never. No matter what.”

“I need you so much,” she dragged in a deep breath. “I thought—I don’t—I don’t know.”

Taking her cheek in his palm, he forced her gaze up to meet his. “Nothing can come between us. I should have trusted that and been honest about how I felt. How it was last night, how it’s been for years.”

“What are you saying?” Her eyes glistened, and she bunched her fists in the fabric of his shirt even as she tried to push him back.

“You were right. I did see something when we were together, and it terrified me. I shouldn’t have run off the way I did, but I needed to get my head together. I had to think…everything through. I was about to make the biggest gamble of my life. ”

“What—?” Nichole blinked away her tears. Confusion and what looked like hope filled her eyes in their stead. It drove him forward, bolstering his conviction.

“Nichole, you are the most commitment phobic person I’ve ever met. You don’t do long-term relationships. Never even seem to want one. That’s a frightening prospect when a guy considers pushing past the security of the most important friendship in his life. So I’ve always refused to go there.” He took a deep breath and forged ahead. “I can’t pretend anymore. I love you. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. I fought it in high school when you were my brother’s girlfriend, ignored it when we were in college because I couldn’t risk our friendship, and I’ve been denying it ever since. But after last night and this morning, knowing what it can be like between us and seeing the way you looked at me…I can’t not risk it. I want it all. I want you and me. I want us. I want forever. In my heart, I know it’s right.”

“Oh.” She shook her head, an incredulous expression on her face. “You’re wrong, Matt.”

The words slashed through him and he turned away, groaning. “Oh, God.”

Nichole’s stomach dropped as she realized the error of her word choice. This man had just told her everything she’d longed to hear and, instead of jumping into his arms, she’d inadvertently rejected him. She gripped his hand, her heart soaring with the knowledge that he loved her. This was her opportunity to finally explain.

“No, I mean you’re wrong about me. I’m not the fickle, waffling woman you think I am. I’m the most dementedly, unwaveringly, obsessively committed woman you’ll ever meet. I’ve been in love with the same man for twelve years, and no matter how many times and how many ways he made it clear that friends was all we’d ever be, I couldn’t let him go long enough to allow another man into my heart. I tried. I tried to be happy with other guys; I tried not to want you. And there were times when I could almost convince myself that I didn’t. But it was a lie.” Her hand stroked his cheek, her eyes begging him to understand, to believe. “All I’ve ever wanted is you.”

Matt’s breath burst out of his lungs and he hauled her into his arms, covering her mouth with his own in a crushing kiss that screamed possession. She embraced his hungry claim, opened herself wide to him, taking his tongue and meeting it with her own. Her body pressing his, molding to the hard planes of his form.

Matt broke the kiss and took a step back. “Wait right here.” He dashed for the front door, and her brow furrowed into shocked denial. He was not running out on her again. Was he? No. He stopped just inside the door to bow down and sweep up a large paper bag that appeared to be overflowing with…roses. Then he rushed back to her wearing a devastating grin.

“So you aren’t commitment phobic after all?”

“No.” Her breath came haltingly after the intensity of their kiss, but there was no hesitation in her answer. “Not even a little bit.”

A spark of sweet mischief lit Matt’s face, and Nichole’s heart melted into a pool within her chest. He withdrew one bouquet after another, three dozen exquisite, long stemmed roses in total. “So this won’t overwhelm you, then?”

Her arms laden with floral perfection, all she could do was laugh and shake her head.

“That’s very good to hear, Nichole.” He pulled the last item from the bag. Handing her the enormous golden box of chocolate truffles, he asked, “Still good?”

“Matt, you shouldn’t have! What were you thinking?”

His smile turned bittersweet. “I was thinking that a decent man brings the woman he loves chocolate and flowers for Valentine’s Day. After blowing my opportunity for twelve years straight—and even now, a day late—I wanted to make a statement.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets with a sheepish grin, “This is actually the second set I bought. When I got back here with the first ones, I realized they weren’t right.”

The flowers in the Dumpster. They had been for her. “Matt, you could have scribbled on a ten cent greeting card with a crayon and, if you’d told me you loved me, it would have been everything I’d ever wanted.”

He cocked his brow at her and tucked back his chin. “Too much? Am I scaring you off?”

“It would be impossible to scare me off.” This was ridiculous. “I love you.”

“That’s a relief, because I’m ramping up here and wouldn’t want to blow my chance.”

The corner of her mouth curled in delight.

He loved her.

She could breathe for the first time in over a decade. She wanted to scream it from the windows—he actually loved her! “How can you possibly top all of this?”

Matt freed his fisted hands from his pockets. God, his whole body was tense. He shook out one hand, looking as jittery as she’d ever seen him, and took the bouquets and chocolate from her to set them aside on the coffee table. He faced her, and his jubilant expression turned serious; his gaze, intent.

Taking her hand, he tugged her closer and leaned down to her ear. “I could top it all if you’ll give me forever.”

Nichole jerked back, searching his face—his smiling, confident, gorgeous face—as he stared down at her. He opened his hand and held a platinum band adorned with a spectacular, glittering solitaire diamond poised at the tip of the third finger on her left hand. Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest. He’d had it in his fist, in his pocket! He dropped down to one knee, stealing her breath away in the motion.

“Nichole, I love you.” His smile spread as she began to nod her head vigorously and her heart raced like a runaway train. “Will you marry me—”

His words were cut off as she flew into his arms, nearly knocking him backward, her lips devouring his laughing, smiling, sensual mouth. Her arms locked around his neck, the engagement ring looped around the second knuckle of her third finger, her feet pulled up behind her, her knees hanging inches above the floor as he held her suspended in his arms, swinging her back and forth. Their kiss, promising forever, was punctuated by one word spoken back and forth with increasing fervor.

“Yes.”