“Shit.” My face heats up. “I’m sorry about that, too.”
“It’s fine.” She shrugs. But I don’t think it’s really all that fine, and there’s a part of my brain warning me to stop now before I upset her even more. The problem is that part is being overruled by the impulsive side again.
“Daisy, why’d you, you know, encourage me when we were spooning just now? What’d you think would come of it?” I blurt out.
Her eyes lower again. “You already know I haven’t had much dating experience. But I still managed to grow into the body of an adult woman with a fully functioning reproductive system, despite not getting the chance to use it.” She stops and sighs. “So when you presented me with an educational opportunity this morning, I guess I thought I’d make the most of it.”
My heart rate quickens. “And I almost … I mean, we could have …”
She huffs. “Don’t flatter yourself. A few seconds of incidental groping hasn’t managed to shift my core values. I still intend to save the real thing for my future husband. All I’m saying is I temporarily let my curiosity get the best of me when my female body reacted naturally to the contact you initiated with your male parts. So if anything, I’m sorry for … using you, I guess.”
My brow lifts. I haven’t heard much of Daisy’s tougher side before, but I’m a little impressed. In fact, I think I can see how she’s been surviving in a high school classroom now that she’s less afraid to assert herself this way.
“Wow,” I say after a while. “No matter how many ways I might have rehearsed this conversation in my mind, I never would have seen that last part coming. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so …dirty.” I turn to shoot her a smirk, and she elbows me playfully.
“Are you satisfied now?”
“Not really,” I mumble. “But a few more minutes of what you call ‘cuddling’ could have fixed that.” I don’t mean to sound so suggestive, but it comes out before I can stop myself. And then I watch as her smile grows wider.
Dammit.
I like making her smile. And I can tell she likes it when I flirt with her, even for the simple fact that she’s craving the attention in general. Maybe it’s not so wrong of me to give her this, then. She deserves the chance to practice within a safe environment. And I’m as safe as she’ll ever get.
“Hey, I thought we’re supposed to keep things honest and transparent?” she continues, sounding more coy this time.
I scrunch up my nose. “Who says I wasn’t? It’s been a while for me, too.”
She giggles, and I realize I’ve forgotten all about my hangover now. Because that sound is the opposite of irritating.
“Is that your excuse for fondling me?”
“I’m sorry. I only went for it because I thought I was dreaming,” I divulge hesitantly.
Her brow shoots up. “Really? And you’re admitting that?”
“You shared something personal at the risk of embarrassment. I figured I should do the same,” I tell her with a shrug. But I suspect it’s because she makes it so easy for me to let my guard down. “For solidarity.”
“As if it wasn’t enough that we’re stuck in a secret marriage, now we know all of one another’s most mortifying secrets.” She clinks her mug against mine before she downs the last of her coffee.
“But why do I get the feeling you’ve got more dirt on me than I think?” I ask before I empty my own cup.
“Let’s see, I’m a twenty-five-year-old virgin, and I just confessed to letting my best friend cop a feel, even though I know he’s not into me. And I’m still smiling like this because I think I have the upper hand.” She points to the grin on her face.
I puff out my cheeks and blow out a breath, trying not to dwell on the fact that she just called me her best friend. “Right. Tread carefully. Got it.”
She laughs again, and I find myself staring at her for a second longer than I should. I clear my throat and stand. “I should get dressed.”
“And in the interest of full transparency, I’m warning you now that I’m going to respectfully look away until you’ve reached an acceptable distance before sneaking a peek at you in your underwear again,” she announces.
“Then as your best friend and platonic husband, I hereby consent to your objective appreciation of my male form as the opportunity presents itself,” I say, stifling a grin and walking backward toward my bedroom.
Her eyes run over my body before she lifts a finger and gestures for me to turn around. “I’m done with this side. Can we flip to the back?”
I spin on my heels and walk on. But my smile doesn’t fade for a while.
CHAPTER 24
landry
