Page 47 of The Friend Zone

I just nodded. I couldn’t even speak. I’d never had sex that good. Never in my life—and I’d had my share of good sex. It was like we’d been foreplaying for weeks and I’d been sexually malnourished, starving, waiting for him to feed me.

He looked up at me after a few moments, the storm in his eyes quieted, and he kissed me slow and languidly while he caught his breath, putting soft pecks along my jaw, brushing the hair off my forehead with his fingers.

I loved it.

It was so sweet and tender. And I couldn’t allow it. “Can you get me a towel?” I asked, putting a stop to it.

He kissed my forehead. “Sure.” He got up and I watched him walk across the room, his perfect naked body silhouetted by the light coming from my bathroom. He came back in a second later and smiled at me as he handed me a towel.

My heart yearned for him. I wanted to cuddle with him. I wanted him to stay. “Okay, time to go.”

He got under the covers. “Nope.” He scooted in and threw an arm over me.

“What do you mean ‘nope’? We’re done here. Thank you, and go home now.”

This was the price. The payment for what I stole. I couldn’t have it all. I tried lifting his arm off me. It weighed, like, a million pounds. God, he was muscly.

He rolled me onto my side, pulled my back into his chest, and snuggled me. “Nope. I’m staying the night. You took time off my sleep schedule. I’m not driving a half an hour to my apartment just to lose more sleep before a forty-eight-hour shift.”

“Well, you’re sleeping in the guest room, then,” I said, pulling at his hand.

He went into a vise grip over my rib cage. “Nope. Your futon sucks.”

It wasn’t that I didn’t want him there. I did. I’d never wanted anyone to stay the night more in my life. And that’s exactly why he needed to leave.

This had to be sex and only sex. This wasn’t a relationship. It couldn’t be. Ever. I could never let him mistake it for one. I had to be crystal clear about that. I was a dead end worse than Celeste, and if he ever developed feelings or things ever got fuzzy, I’d have to end it.

He needed to go.

“Josh, we’re not cuddling. This is a sex thing.” I tried to wriggle away from him and he laughed, nuzzling my neck.

“Knock it off. We’re two grown-ass adults. We can share a bed for a night. And I’m not cuddling you—I’m using you as a body pillow.”

I gave him side-eye that he couldn’t see. “Well, I’m not making you breakfast in the morning.”

“Thank God.”

I smirked. “Fine. Stay. But don’t go catching feelings. I mean it. We are not a thing. Got it?”

“Using me for sex. Got it.” He pulled me closer and kissed my shoulder.

“Stop!”

“Good night.” I could tell he was smiling.

I gave up my struggles and tried to relax. The rise and fall of his chest moved rhythmically against my back, and with every exhale, I sank deeper into him, like I belonged there.

Like I was loved.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push the feelings down.

This was a bad idea. I didn’t know if I could compartmentalize this like I thought I could. Especially if he was going to be pulling this shit.

And why was he pulling this shit? Didn’t guys prefer noncommittal sex-only situations? Didn’t he say he wasn’t ready to date? I was making this easy for him.

My tired mind drifted off into sleep, and while I was somewhere in the fog, buried in his strong arms, he put his nose to my hair and breathed in.

FIFTEEN