When the movie ends, I turn, ready to toss the remote to Yana so she can pick out another one. Instead, I freeze, my lungs seizing up. Because the two of them are locked in a passionate kiss.
Fuck. This is the last thing I need.
I scramble to my feet and stride for the kitchen without looking back. “I need a beer.”
Counting to fifty in my head, I stand with my back pressed to the fridge.
Their voices drift in from the living room, but I try my best to ignore them. One more hour, and I’ll lock myself away in my room. But I could use a few more drinks to help me sleep. Especially if they start fucking again.
“Get yourself together,” I hiss.
I snatch a bottle from the fridge, twist the cap, and head back out. Just as I hit the threshold, Yana’s there, laughing under her breath and looking over her shoulder. Her body collides with mine, and she stumbles, a hitching breath leaving her parted lips. I snake my arm around her waist, pressing her against my chest to steady her.
She meets my gaze, eyes wide and pupils blown out.
My palm, splayed over her lower back, burns. She licks her lips, and the movement garners my attention, tempting me to study her inviting mouth. I want her. God, I want her so bad, it takes everything in me not to kiss her.
I need to leave.
I drop my hand from her waist and take a step back. “Sorry.” With a tight smile, I skirt around her. Dammit. It’s gonna take way more than a few more drinks to erase the feeling of her against me.
“Everything all right?” Logan asks as I slump onto the floor.
“Yeah.” I take a sip of my drink, forcing myself to look at him. “What are we watching?”
He chuckles, unaware of the war raging inside my head. “A Christmas Carol.”
“Okay.”
“Have you seen it before?” Yana returns from the kitchen, the sound of her voice capturing my attention like a siren’s song. She hands a beer to Logan, then slips in beside him again, holding her own beer bottle.
“I don’t remember. Maybe.” I stare at the TV, determined not to look away until the clock strikes ten and I can bow out for the night.
But no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop thinking about how she felt against me. How my skin ignited when I touched her. So, instead of distracting myself with the movie, I end up sneaking glances at her and Logan.
She’s sitting between Logan’s legs now, her back flush against his chest, giggling each time he whispers in her ear. When he pulls a throw blanket over their laps, everything in me stills.
My brain screams at me to leave, to hide behind the closed door of my bedroom, but I’m rooted to the spot. The agony of watching him kiss her neck as his hands wander over her body is too much.
My heart thrashes against my rib cage, and unwanted heat coils low in my gut.
I should look away.
I should leave.
But I don’t.
While Logan sneaks his hand under the blanket and nibbles on her throat, I study her face. Her features tense, her brows pulling together. Eyes falling closed, she sucks in a breath and arches into him.
Holy shit.
I don’t need to see what he’s doing under the blanket to know she’s unraveling for him right there, inches from me.
When a soft moan escapes her lips, I look away. No matter how much it tears me apart, I don’t want them to stop. I want to know what she sounds like when she comes. I want to know what she looks like.
And this is the only way I’ll ever know. By watching my best friend pleasure her.
Something inside me cracks. I can’t make sense of it. It’s like for the first time since my granny died, the emptiness I’ve been dragging around, the grief I’ve been carrying, twists into raw hunger. Pure need.
