Back at our booth, I saw that Bianca was nowhere to be seen, and Maddox was nursing a beer. “Where’d she go?”
“I handled her,” he said, not giving me any more details. “What’s up?” Maddox seemed to have sobered up a bit.
“I need to talk to you about something.”
His eyes narrowed on me. “Is it bad?”
I half-shrugged. “Not exactly. Do you want to go home?”
Maddox stood up without saying a word, and I guessed I had my answer.
Maddox
“No,” I calmly stated. “Not happening.”
“But Maddox,” she dragged out my name, pleading with her eyes. When I shook my head firmly, she stomped her foot.
She peeked at me through her lashes. “This is really important to me.”
Then Lila got a look on her face, a look that should have warned me of what was coming.
“Lila–”
“I dare you.”
Jesus Christ, this woman!
“Take that back,” I warned, my voice low.
Lila smirked. “No.” She crossed her arms over her pert tits, pulling my attention to her chest.
I was a goddamn weak man.
Weak to my fucking knees for Lila Garcia because she was the one temptation I couldn’t have.
She was wearing a crop top that should’ve been illegal. Her dreamcatcher necklace hung around her neck; Lila never took it off after I put it on her three years ago. Her stomach was taunt, and her belly button looked cute, and as fucked up as it was, a brief image of me licking her belly button and her giggling flashed through my mind. My mouth watered at the thought.
I shook my head and cursed myself. No, I couldn’t.
This was… not happening.
Never, fucking ever.
Even though it grew harder every year to remind myself that we could only ever be friends and nothing more.
Every time she smiled at me, it became harder not to kiss her.
Though, I had refused to admit that even to myself. I refused to even entertain the idea of touching Lila in a manner other than ‘friendly.’
But I was little drunk, and I couldn’t get the image out of my head. She was standing in front of me with a crop top and shorts that hugged her curvaceous ass like a second skin, her pink lips glistening and her black hair falling over her shoulders.
Lila looked like a Rated-R Snow White. I wanted to slide between her thighs and make us both forget that we were best friends.
No. FUUUCCCK. NO!
That was drunk me thinking of that shit. Sober Maddox would never think of fucking his best friend, I told myself.
“Maddox, are you listening to me?” Her voice broke through my burning thoughts.
I swallowed and forced myself to look away.
“Yeah,” I said, my voice deeper, hoping she didn’t notice the way I strategically adjusted the pillow over my lap.
“Do you dare?” she asked cheekily.
I sighed, running my fingers through my short hair and pulling on the strands. “This isn’t going to be fun, Lila.”
She was asking me to be her dance partner. I wasn’t much of a dancer, but I wouldn’t say I completely sucked. This was important to her; I was well aware of that fact.
It was the fact that I was going to be too close to Lila for a whole week, especially since it had started to become harder for me to control my urges – my dick – around her. That bothered me. After the incident with Landon… there had been an unmistakable tension between Lila and I.
We both refused to acknowledge it, going on with our lives, but it was there, and it was becoming harder to ignore.
I didn’t know why… I was feeling this way.
And I didn’t understand what it was.
Angry at myself, I held back a growl, and my eyes snapped to Lila’s. She was waiting for an answer, oblivious to my inner turmoil.
Lila Garcia was my best friend, and the last thing I wanted to do was lose her because I couldn’t keep my dick in my pants.
I’m drunk, this is why, I convinced myself.
She tapped her foot impatiently. Any other girl doing that would have annoyed me, but Lila tapping her foot was cute as fuck.
“C’mon, Coulter. Are you about to lose to me?” She tsked. “It’s a simple dare.”
Simple?
Little did she know…
She grew cocky when I didn’t reply, her competitive nature shining through. Lila knew I’d never turn down a dare, and she knew exactly how to get her way.
“Fine, I accept the dare,” I said, my teeth grinding together. “You’re going to regret this, Garcia.”
Lila pressed her lips together to keep from smiling, but she lost the fight. A beautiful smile spread across her lips, and she laughed a bit, the little happy sound shooting straight to my heart.
My fingers curled and uncurled at my sides.
What is wrong with me?
32
Lila
My body was on fire.
I fought back a shiver, and my pulse throbbed in my throat.
His hands traveled up my arms, slowly… taking his time, as if he was memorizing every inch of my exposed skin. His touch was so soft, so featherlight, but it felt as though he was writing a word, painting a picture or playing a song on my skin. My breath caught, and my heart raced, tripping over itself because it could longer beat in a normal rhythm.
Our eyes connected through the floor length mirror. The intensity of his gaze made my stomach do a crazy flip, and my thighs trembled.
Maddox was wearing a black sleeveless shirt, the muscles in his arms on display, and they clenched and tightened with every move he made. His whole body was a work of art. I wore a tank top and shorts, comfortable enough for dancing.
His blue eyes smoldered with something I couldn’t read – dark and intense.
Friends, I told myself.
We were best friends.
But friends didn’t look at each other the way we did.
The past five days had been sweet torture.
Sweet because I spent every waking hour with Maddox.
Torture because I spent every waking hour with Maddox.
Dancing… touching… breathing so close to each other’s lips… but reminding myself to pull away.
I refused to acknowledge what I was feeling. It was forbidden.
Or maybe I didn’t really comprehend my own wayward emotions.
Why does my body react the way it does when Maddox is close?
Why does my heart hurt… when he’s hurt?
Why does my stomach flutter when he’s touching me?
We were friends, weren’t we?
Being anything more than friends could risk what we had for the last three years and whatever we had was beautiful the way it was.
“Lila?”
His voice, a deep timbre that traveled down through my body and all the way to my toes, snapped me back into the present.
“You just stepped on my toes,” he mumbled, his breath against the tip of my earlobe.
I quickly apologized and went back into the position I was supposed to be in.
Our eyes locked, and I moved my hips against his. He followed my movement, and his grip tightened on my waist, his fingers almost digging into my flesh, and it didn’t seem like he noticed.
Our height difference had the curve of my ass right at his groin, and my eyes fluttered close, my cheeks flushing in embarrassment and… something else.