She steps into the room, takes in her surroundings and sneaks another drink of wine. “The place you sleep.”
“Yep.”
She runs her fingers along the bedspread. “And—” she turns to face me “—the place you fuck.”
My breath stalls. “Yes. That, too.”
Confidence fades to something else. No longer feeling so warm.
She sinks onto the edge of the bed and crosses her legs. The skirt of the dirndl rides up, and my focus drops to her bare legs. They look so smooth. So touchable. My dick urges me to get on my knees, run my hands up her legs, spread them.
I meet her eyes once more. Warm. Brown. Like cinnamon.
My stomach lurches. She’s mybest friend. What am I doing? Months ago, in a more sober state of mind, I promised myself I wouldn’t do this, no matter the circumstances. Jocelyn ismore important than this. Complicating friendship with sexneverworks, and it’s unquestionably not worth losing her.
I would definitely lose her. There is no question in my mind about that.
Though it would be a magnificent way to go.
She’s beautifully made—graceful curves, glowing colors. I’d be an idiot to say no, and yet... I think that’s what I’m about to do.
I force my legs to approach until I’m close enough to touch her. But I don’t. “Stand up.”
She rises in one slow, smooth move, her gaze fixed on mine.
“What do the stars mean, Jocelyn?”
She clears her throat. “It’s the Columba constellation. Represents the dove who informed Noah the floods were receding.”
Oh. I take in the stars once more.
Receding floods.
She hasn’t revealed a lot about her past, but I know enough to understand her profound fear of drowning. There’s more to this tattoo than she’s saying, isn’t there? Something deep. Dark.
My liver must be doing a fantastic job. The alcohol has metabolized enough for me to grasp the gravity of this situation.
How did I get here?
This woman has buried secrets in me. She’s taken some of mine. She’s given pieces of herself and extracted parts of me. We’re inside each other, and that’s more important than this petty lust.
That’s all it is. Lust. Sober, neither of us would consider this. She is anti-relationship and I can’t do casual.
I’m horny enough to wish I didn’t care, but Idocare. Because this is Jocelyn.
“We can’t do this,” I whisper.
She grins like she’d reached this conclusion long ago and was only waiting for me to catch up. “I know.”
Cheeky woman.
I go for casual with a shrug. “Fun thought while it lasted, though.”
She laughs. “Better in theory than in practice, I’m sure.”
My eyebrows fly up. “Speak for yourself.”
Her laugh only grows, and in her amusement, her grasp weakens. The glass of wine slips from her fingers, and the moment officially shatters, dousing our feet and the floor with ruby regret.
