“Yes, you are. Look, I’m used to your territorial tendencies, but you’re the one who said it was a good idea to get me laid and offered to help. This isn’t helping.”
That was before we kissed and it rocked my fucking world.
“Is this about the other night?”
Splat.
My pizza slips right from my fingers, smacking loudly against the hardwood floor, just catching the edge of the blue and gray rug we have under the table.
Thank fuck we don’t have carpet.
“Cooper!” She shoots off the couch, grabbing for napkins.
“What?” It comes out as a growl as I push to my feet, shoving the coffee table out of the way to clean the mess up.
“You got sauce on the rug. I’m going to have to scrub it now.”
“It’s not like I fucking threw it on the floor! It’s greasy and slipped.”
I stomp into the kitchen to grab a wet towel, annoyed.
At myself for dropping the pizza.
At her for saying yes to a date with some idiot after what happened between us.
And then again at myself for even caring about the kiss.
I grab a hand towel, wet it under the faucet, and make my way back out to the living room.
Caroline’s on her hands and knees cleaning up the mess I made.
Her pert ass is in the air, almost sticking out of the bottom of her pajamas that are getting to be way too small for her.
It’s like she’s trying to fucking kill me.
“Can’t believe you dropped your pizza. First, that’s rude because it’s pizza. Second, now I’ll probably have to steam clean the rug.” She looks at me over her shoulder. “Oh, good. You got a towel.”
I don’t move.
I can’t.
If I move, I’ll do something stupid like pick her up and carry her to my bedroom.
She looks like a wet fucking dream right now, and it’s taking everything I have not to act on my impulses.
“Hello.” She holds her hand out. “Towel, please.”
“Get up.”
Her brows pinch together. “Huh?”
“Get. Up.”
She groans, pushing herself to her feet. “Ugh, bossy much?”
I shove past her, dropping in front of her to finish cleaning up the mess.
It’s a bad idea.
A bad, bad idea.
Her knees are red from pressing against the hardwood.
The only time I want to see her knees red is when she’s on them for me.
The thought slams into me, and I try to block out the images that come along with it.
“Seriously, what is your damage? First you’re being a jerk about the first guy who is actually interested in dating me in I don’t know how long. Now you’re being one because you dropped pizza on the floor. I don’t even understand what’s up with you tonight. It’s like—”
Her words die on her tongue.
Because my hand is now wrapped around her right ankle.
She inhales a sharp breath, and I dare a peek up at her.
She’s staring down at me with cautious eyes.
Cautious eyes that are filled with an ache.
Not dropping eye contact, I drag my hand higher, ghosting my fingers up her calf.
When I stop at her knee, she’s barely breathing.
I run my fingertips over the redness, hating to see her marked up because of my stupid mistake. I don’t know what possesses me to do it, but I lean forward and press a gentle kiss to the spot.
Soft. That’s how her skin feels.
Just like her lips, which are now parted on a sweet sigh, felt.
She swallows thickly, eyes darkening.
Feeling brave, I kiss her again, this time just half an inch higher.
Another sigh.
Another kiss.
And another.
My lips brush her barely there shorts, and I’m fairly sure she’s not even breathing at all anymore.
I’m not sure I am either.
“Cooper…”
I swallow, my lips brushing against her leg with the movement.
“We should go to bed.”
I look up at her, and her face flushes with embarrassment. “Not together,” she rushes out. “Separately.”
With a whole lot of willpower, I pull away from her and tilt my head back.
“About Friday…” She darts her tongue out to wet her lips, and I remember just how good that same tongue felt against my own just three nights ago. “We can’t.”
Two words.
Whispered.
Yet so fucking loud.
She doesn’t want this.
She doesn’t want me.
I push to my full height, putting distance between us because I really fucking need it.
She stands there, wringing her hands together, lip tucked between her teeth.
“It’s just…we’re best friends, you know? We can’t go there. It’s just not something you can come back from.”
She’s right. I know she’s right.
Doesn’t mean I want her to be right.
I want her to be anything but right.
“You understand, don’t you? Friday was just a fluke. We were drunk.”
I was sober.
She’s a lightweight, but not that big of one.
And it wasn’t just a fluke.
At least I don’t think it was.
But maybe I’ve read this all wrong. Maybe she hasn’t been feeling anything happening between us. Maybe I’m just a moron and almost screwed everything up just like I tried to do when we were teens and I kissed her.
We’re perfect as friends.
No reason to screw that up, right?
“Right.” I clear my throat when the word comes out hoarse. “You’re right. It was just a one-off thing. A mistake. It won’t happen again.”
“Because we’d be fools to ruin this great friendship we have.”
“Exactly,” I agree.
“Besides, I know you slept with a teddy bear until you were twenty-one. That’s not something you should know about someone you’re sleeping with.”
“True.” I laugh lightly. “You know what happens if you ever tell anyone about that, right?”
“You’ll post pictures of me with my underwear on my head on the internet, from that time I was super drunk.”
I nod. “Precisely.”
“Even though that’s totally not a fair playing field. I was drunk—you knew exactly what you were doing.”
“I’ll deny it until I die.”
She grins, shaking her head at me. She looks down at the mess on the floor, then drops her head back on a groan. “Ugh. I really hate steam cleaning too.”
“I’ll worry about cleaning the rug. Tomorrow. Tonight, let’s just watch a movie, huh?”
“You still want to watch a movie?”
“Yeah. We’ve kind of been ignoring each other for the last few days. And, well, you better not tell anyone this, but I sort of missed you.”
She laughs. “I sort of missed you too.”
She peeks up, her blue eyes studying me probably harder than they ever have.
I will myself not to react. Will myself to remain cool. Neutral. To not let her know there’s a whole shitstorm of emotions whirling inside.
Sadness. Regret. Confusion.
Disappointment.
“Are we good?” she asks.
“Of course. Come on. I’m fucking starving.”