Page 18 of The Best Friend Problem
He lifted one shoulder. “Kinda.”
“So, I think you’re hot and you think I’m beautiful and we’ve both had…curiosities about each other.”
One pale brown eyebrow rose. “Curiosities?”
“What would you call it?”
“Sexual fantasies. Like a normal person.”
Oh. Well then. Now she really wanted to ask him what sexual fantasies he’d had about her.
No. I want him to show me.
And why not? Maybe it was just the booze talking, but why couldn’t they have one night of passion? They both knew this wouldn’t go anywhere. They both had different life plans. So why not extend their celebration tonight from the drinking kind to the naked kind?
Do it! Have some wild monkey sex with the hot guy who thinks you’re beautiful!
The voice in her head sounded an awful lot like Mo, but she decided it made a solid point. They were attracted to each other, single, friends. She was sure that neither of them had any expectations of this turning into something more. It was just an itch they needed to scratch. A question that needed an answer. A desire that needed sating.
She took a step forward.
“Pru?”
She reached out, placing her hands on his chest. Holy cow, he was warm. So warm.
In all their years of friendship, she’d never touched his bare chest. Seen it, sure. They’d gone swimming together, worked out—when he dragged her ass to the gym, which was rare. But she’d never touched him like this before. With a clear intent that had nothing to do with playfulness or friendship.
Her fingers traced the Maltese cross tattoo over his chest. His heart beat a fast tempo against the pad of her finger as she followed the curved line of the fireman’s hat in the middle, the straight lines of the axes behind, the bold typeface proclaiming Fire Rescue she knew he’d gotten one night with his crew to celebrate their solidarity to the job.
“Prudence,” his voice growled, low and dark, full of heat, like nothing she’d ever heard before. “What are you doing?”
She had no clue, but damn if it didn’t feel so very good.
…
His head was spinning, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the booze or the touch of his best friend. She was killing him. Seriously, Finn was going to die of un-sated lust or a massive boner if Pru didn’t stop her little sensual touchy-feely exploration right now. He was hanging on by a thin wire and she was playing with fire.
Silly Pru. That’s my job.
Soft fingers traced the tattoo on his chest. How could a touch so light create such a maelstrom of sensation inside him? He and Pru touched all the time. Hugs, high fives: friend stuff. But this… She’d never touched his naked flesh before. At least not like this. Not with the hesitance of a new lover, the eagerness of unmasked desire. He knew why this affected him, because Pru was finally touching him the way he’d fantasized about. The way he’d never allowed himself to fully admit to wanting. Desperately.
Because they were friends, and friends didn’t cross those lines.
Sure as hell looked like Pru wanted to cross some lines now.
“Pru, what are you—?” He sucked in a sharp breath as her delicate hand traveled downward, fingers trailing over his stomach and lower still until her hand rested on a very hard part of his anatomy.
“Oh my God,” she gasped as she gently cupped him.
His body burned with need. Need for Pru. His hands flew out, automatically grabbing her hips and pulling her closer, trapping her small hand in-between their bodies. Her head tilted up, eyes closing in invitation. An invitation he would gladly accept.
Bending slightly, he captured her lips with his, a satisfied growl rising in his chest when her mouth opened on a gasp, allowing his tongue to plunge into the depths of her sweet, tempting mouth.
Her hand slipped from between them to wind around his neck. Perfect. Now he had better access to what he really wanted.
Moving his hands down to her ass, he grabbed two handfuls of glorious heaven and lifted. Pru, understanding his intent, eagerly complied by raising her legs and winding them around his waist as he stepped away from the counter. With their mouths still fused together, refusing to break for anything, even air—who needed air when he was kissing Pru?—he took the few steps to his bed and tumbled them down onto it. As they fell, Finn twisted, knowing the mattress was soft but not wanting anything to jar her. Not even a soft fall onto a cozy cushion.
Holy hell. He had no idea Pru could kiss like this. She was driving him mad. His body burned hotter than any fire he’d ever put out. Every nerve in him lit up with excitement and energy, as if he was a keg of gasoline and she was the damn match to spark him into an explosion.
