I start pacing our living room, my mind whirling. He’s been attracted to me from the start. How did I not see it? And whatdoes it mean now? Does he want something more with me, or is he just physically attracted to me? If he wants something, can I give it to him? Am I even capable of being in a stable relationship, or will I self-sabotage like I have so many other times until eventually our relationship implodes and takes our friendship with it?
“I’m freaking the fuck out, Colton.”
He takes me by the shoulders, leaning down to bring our faces level. “Will I probably always be attracted to you? Yes. Look in a mirror. But I love our friendship. I’m not asking you for more, so please stop spiraling about what this means. We’re us, and in the choice between your friendship for life or a hookup, I’d choose you every time. No contest.”
A hookup.
I know that’s what this is. He just talked to me last weekend about not wanting a relationship—not being able or willing to put someone’s needs before his own—but the way my heart clenches, I don’t know if I can do my usual friends-with-benefits thing this time. He’s too precious, and it’s too complicated.
“You’re right,” I say, stepping back. “We’re best friends, and we shouldn’t mess with that. Starting now, no more funny business.”
He scoffs. “Funny business?”
“Yes,” I say, planting my hands on my hips. “No more kissing and touching. Just friends, right?”
He nods, turning away slightly. I just catch sight of him adjusting himself with a wince.
“You’re still hard?” I ask, a laugh escaping me.
His brow lifts. “You’re still naked?”
I look down at my still mostly exposed body. “Oh, shit!” I push past him and shimmy my dress back on, leaving the zipper down but myself protected. My very own gladiatorial armor.
“Are we good?” he asks.
I force a smile. “Of course.”
One side of his lips hitch up. “Good.” He clears his throat. “I’m gonna take a quick shower.”
I snort. “Sure. Makes sense.” I press my lips together to keep in my laugh.
He shakes his head, his eyes sparkling. “Don’t be a dick.”
I lift a hand. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Go take care of yours.”
He runs a hand over his mouth, ineffectively hiding his smile. “You’re gonna think about it, aren’t you?”
I swallow thickly. “Of course not.”
One eyebrow lifts, and it’s infuriatingly sexy. “Not even a little curious?”
I squirm under his gaze. Of course I’m curious. I want to know what he looks like when he’s lost to his pleasure. Do his shoulders slump forward when he finishes? Or do his muscles go taut, his head thrown back in pleasure and exposing the line of his neck? Will he think of me?
His smirk grows. “Only seems fair, don’t you think? I saw you. Seems a bit imbalanced.”
“Colton,” I say, a reprimand in my tone.
He lifts his hands, backing toward the bathroom. “Your choice. You know where I’ll be.”
He slips into the bathroom, giving me one last heated look before letting the door swing closed between us.
16
COLTON
I’m welland truly fucked.
I’ll spend the rest of my life thinking about Quinn’s mouth. Nothing else will compare. Not now that I know she tastes like summer—fresh and light with a touch of lemon, even through the bite of the alcohol. It’s like the citrusy smell that’s haunted me since we met is so much a part of her that I could taste it on her tongue. Not when I’ve heard the sounds that leave her lips—the little whimpers that give way to low moans when she loses herself to pleasure. WhenImake her lose herself.
