That meant I’d spent the night at Brett’s.
As soon as I rolled over, muscles I hadn’t remembered having screamed out in resistance.
And then I remembered what else I’d done last night.
With Brett.
Over and over.
Flashes of our sexcapade shot in my head like an advertisement for Girls Gone Wild. Man, Brett had skills. That thing he’d done with his tongue…And had I really been bent in half like that? I hadn’t realized I was that flexible.
I threw my legs off the side of the bed, and a spasm ran up my hamstring. Ah, I wasn’t that flexible. I’d ignored my physical boundaries and was paying for it in spades now.
Worth it.
I could barely stand up straight, the very definition of best sex of my life, and I was pretty sure I couldn’t wipe the ear-to-ear grin off my face if someone paid me.
I automatically reached for my phone—when you had sex this good, you had to tell someone—and then remembered I hadn’t plugged it in last night.
Except, there it was. Sitting in the charging dock on the nightstand as if that was where it belonged. Admittedly, my pink case looked good there next to Brett’s graphite iPhone and his gold cufflinks and his Apple watch and ohmyGodIsleptwithBrettlastnight.
It hit me now. Really hit me.
I’d slept with Brett Sebastian.
Certified nice guy.
My best friend.
King of cunnilingus—a fact I hadn’t known twelve hours before, and now that I knew I couldn’t ever unknow. I didn’t want to unknow. I wanted to be the recipient of his talent forever and ever, amen, and that was why I was about to have a major freak-out.
Only I didn’t really feel on the edge of a freak-out. Just that I should be. In fact, I felt really good. Better than I had in a long time, and not just freshly-fucked kind of good, but emotionally and mentally kind of good. A déjà vu kind of good. That kind of good that said you’re in the right place at the right time.
I never felt that way after a night with Scott.
Maybe because I’d had higher expectations when I was with him.
Or because he never let me sleep over.
Or because he’d never paused to talk for an hour before a second round.
Or because he’d never even gone for a second round.
But all of those excuses felt too simple.
Though really it was simple, and I was making it complicated. I felt good because it had been Brett. Because I already loved Brett, and I knew he already loved me. I hadn’t had to keep my guard up. I trusted him with my vulnerability, and he’d proven he deserved that trust last night as well as on a thousand occasions before that.
So...what did that mean happened now?
I needed some friendly advice, pronto.
Phone in hand, I ran to the bathroom—naked because my extra clothes were in the guest closet, and I had zero idea where the clothes I’d worn last night had ended up—and locked myself in. With my back leaning on the door, I unlocked my screen and pulled up my phone before realizing that the person I would normally call in this situation was the same person I needed to talk about.
Fuck.
Was this why everyone said you shouldn’t sleep with your best friend? That really needed to be made clear in the Universal Guide to Life that I frequently wished existed.
Brett wasn’t my only friend, thank God, but a quick mental analysis of who would both be trusted with the information of my tryst and who might give me solid advice left me with an empty list.
That left my sister.
Goddammit. I’d forgotten the diapers.
So I couldn’t call my sister.
But I could call Nolan.
“I got the diapers,” he said in lieu of hello. “If that’s why you’re calling.” He sounded out of breath, and the background noise placed him outside.
“I’m sorry. I completely forgot. Is Avery pissed?”
“Eh, you know Avery. It wasn’t as critical as she made it out to be. Finch and I picked some up on the way to the park. I changed him on a bench, and now we’re doing our Sunday jog. Aren’t we, big guy?” He lowered his voice for the last part, the way he always did when he spoke directly to Finch.
In contrast, Avery’s voice went up when she spoke to her baby. The two of them together, cooing at their son, never failed to make me and Brett crack up.
Ah, Brett.
My stomach did a little flip-flop just thinking about him.
“Anyway, you’re all good,” Nolan said, returning to his normal tone. “Ignore any angry texts from my wife, and enjoy your time with Scott.”
It was funny how Scott’s name made me want to cringe when less than a day ago I’d let him finger-fuck me at a work party.
Cajoled him into finger-fucking me was more like it.
It was also funny how Nolan assumed I’d spent the night with Scott. Probably because I tended to let him—well, Avery mainly—believe things were going better with Scott than they were.
Time to correct that now. “Actually, I’m not with Scott. I’m with Brett. I spent the night with Brett.” Then remembering that I frequently spent innocent nights at Brett’s, I clarified. “I spent the night in Brett’s bed.”
There was a brief pause. “...for the first time?”
“Yes, for the first time. What do you mean for the first time? Have you been under the impression he and I were fooling around?”
“I don’t know. It’s not that unreasonable. Avery and I have often wondered why you two aren't together. He seems a better match for you than his cousin. The only thing we could think was that maybe you and Brett were lacking chemistry in the bedroom department, but to know that, you’d already have had to...you know.”
“Nope. First time was last night.” My voice sounded tight. I was strangely irritated that my sister had wondered instead of just asking.
“...and?”
“And…” I cut off when I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I had a hickey on my chest. Several hickeys. When I brought my hand up to touch one of the red marks, I noticed my wrists were red as well.
An image of my hands bound behind my back with Brett’s tie while he pounded me from behind flashed before my eyes, and I suddenly felt very warm. “And it was the best fucking sex of my life,” I finished.
Another pause. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be talking to your sister about this?”
“I’m very sure.” More sure now that I knew she’d had secret thoughts about which Sebastian I should be banging. “I need some advice, not a lecture.”
“Hold on. I need to pull off the jogging trail for this.” The phone sounded muffled after that. A handful of seconds later, the phone sounded like it shifted again. “Okay. Hit me. I’m ready. What’s your question?”
I suppressed a groan. Wasn’t the question obvious? “I slept with Brett,” I said again, slowly in case Nolan was having a hard time concentrating, what with being outdoors and all that. “You know. My bff of the last ten years? Your best man at your wedding?”
“Yes, I get that.” He sounded equally irritated. “So. Are you planning to do it again?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out! Should I? I mean, it was good—like I said—but you know, it’s more than that. We already have such a great time together. We have common interests. We rarely argue—well, not about anything important, anyway—and I care about him, obviously, and he cares about me.”