“Maybe not in front of your entire family?”
I know I should listen to the older voice. The brave one. But I just … I’m not quite there yet.
He doesn’t escort me to the door, but leads me several steps away toward the railing.
“We’ve known each other for a long time, right?”
“About a decade.”
“And you know I’m not good at any of this. I’m not good with romance. Or emotions. Or talking. Or—” I press my hand to my belly, which suddenly feels queasy. “God, are they just going to watch while we talk?”
“You really want to talk about my family?”
“No. But ... Okay, I see your point. The thing is ... Here’s the thing ... There’s a pretty good chance I’m in love with you. And that I’ve always been in love with you. And that I’ve just been in denial for, like, a decade. And if that’s true, then surely you see why I’m doing this so very badly. Because the idea of risking our relationship is frankly terrifying.”
“Yes,” he says simply. Keegan’s expression hasn’t changed, other than maybe a slight softening around his eyes.
“Yes? Yes, what?”
“Keegan, boy, are you going to pull up a chair for your friend or should we continue without you?” asks a voice from the table.
For a second, Keegan’s eyes flicker closed, like he’s mentally cursing the timing of that interruption.
“Eat without us.” Then he takes my hand in his and drags me off the terrace, through the kitchen and into a butler’s pantry, closing the frosted glass doors behind us.
“Yes, what?” I ask.
“Yes, to all of it. The love. The denial. The messing everything up.”
He drags me to the back of the pantry, then picks me up and sets me on the counter. He plants his hands on either side of my hips, stepping between my legs, and he looks down at me. “And especially yes to how absolutely terrifying this is. Because when you realize you’re in love with your best friend, and you have no idea if she loves you too or if she’s falling in love with her asshole of a boss, it’s completely fucking terrifying.”
I inhale sharply, because I need more details more than I need more air. But I don’t get either, because he leans down and kisses me.
He’s touching nothing but my lips, but he’s surrounding me—his body mere inches from mine. His hands moving to my hips and pulling me closer.
And this kiss feels different from any of the kisses last night.
Yes, all of those kisses were intense. Fraught with sexual tension and need. We had a frantic rush toward something bigger and unstoppable.
This is something else.
This is a desperate, needy claiming. Like he’s trying to pour his soul into mine.
And I’m down for that. I want all of it. I want his soul, if he’ll share it with me.
After I don’t know how long, he lifts his head. We’re both breathless. He presses his forehead to mine.
“Just to be clear.” I clear my throat. “That was a no to this being a Netflix and chill situation and a yes to this being a mutual, in-love-with-your-best-friend situation, right?”
He nods without lifting his head from mine, so that we’re both nodding together. “Don’t get me wrong, I am down for Netflix. But I am absolutely done being chill where you’re concerned.” He steps away from me and crosses his arms over his chest to scowl down at me in a way that might just spark every naughty school girl fantasy I’ve ever had. “I thought that was clear last night.”
I bite down on my lip, tempted just for a moment to say “yes, sir” and ask if he needs to punish me. But there will be time for fantasies later. Now, I need to make sure we are exactly on the same page. Emotionally.
I hold up a finger. “In my defense, last night you talked a lot about wanting me physically. You didn’t say anything about love. You didn’t say anything to indicate you wanted our relationship to change in any way.”
He shoves a hand through his hair. “That’s because our relationship is perfect, except for the fact that I’ve basically had a hard-on twenty-four hours a day for the past year or so.”
My mind trips over that image for a moment, but then circles back to the first part of his sentence. “So then you do just want friends with—”
