“If you feel that way, I will one hundred percent support you,” I say, and she shifts so she’s facing me now, her face only inches from mine. Her shirt bunches up around my hand at her waist.
“You will?”
“Of course, Lia, but I need you to know, right now, as you are, you’re perfect, okay?” The way she’s looking at me, her proximity and the feelings pumping through me rapidly, give me my voice. “There’s absolutely nothing I would change. Not your heart and the way you care for the people around you. Not your mind and how you can shift from sassy to intelligent in seconds. Not your soul and the way you carry your scars with pride.” I grip her shirt and repeat, “You are perfect.”
Her mouth parts, her plump lips glistening.
Her eyes widen with each breath she takes.
And it might be my imagination, but I can feel her draw even closer, leaving no space between us.
In the root of my stomach, this deep, twisting, agonizing feeling spreads through me to the tips of my limbs, this urge to touch her, to slip my hand under her shirt and feel her skin, to bring my mouth closer to hers where I’d see if she’s tempted just as much as I am.
“Th-Thank you,” she says finally, her voice soft and sweet.
I wet my lips as I attempt to control my breathing, my hand twisting in the fabric of her shirt just enough that I can feel her warm skin on my wrist. “You don’t need to thank me, Lia. It’s just facts.”
“Still, I needed to hear that. So thank you.”
“Anything for you,” I say as I glance down at her lips and then back up at her eyes.
What I wouldn’t do for those lips right now.
Just one kiss. Just one taste.
From the corner of my eye, I catch her chest rising and falling harder as she moves in an inch.
Fuck me.
I loosen my grip on her shirt and, instead, rest my warm palm against her exposed hip. I find the seam of her underwear and gently press my index finger against it as my blood burns for more. You’re so close, just . . . just slip your finger under the seam, see what she does. Gauge her reaction.
My pulse thunders as I glide my finger along the seam, my mind telling me to stop, my heart screaming at me for more.
I want her so fucking bad that it’s painful. When I gaze into her eyes, I don’t see anything other than admiration. It’s a fucking look from her I will always cherish, I will live for, because it shows me just how much she trusts me.
Even as I’m bordering on crossing a line, she trusts me.
So I slip my finger softly under the seam of her underwear, right on her hip.
She smiles.
My cock springs forward as all the blood rushes down my body as she reaches her hand between us and cups my cheek. Her thumb slides across my scruff, and I freeze in place as she moves in closer.
Fuck. She wants this. Right?
She wants this just as much as me.
I remove my hand and slide it to her back, where her shirt has lifted so I can feel her warm skin at the tip of my pinky. I’m so fucking tempted to slide my fingers down her back, under her underwear, and grip her ass.
But I want to see where she goes with this. I want to see what she wants from me. So I brace myself, waiting, not stopping the way she’s closing in on me, but welcoming it because fuck, I want this.
I should care that she’s engaged.
I should care that we’re best friends and this could ruin everything.
But I don’t because I want her lips. I want to taste them. I want to see if the thought of how she tastes and feels in my arms is just as good as I think it is.
Her mouth grows closer and closer.
My veins feel electric.
My muscles tighten.
My breath seizes in my chest.
And then she presses her lips . . . to my cheek before saying, “Good night, Breaker.” Then she turns back around, snuggles into her pillow, and that’s that.
Nothing else.
I squeeze my eyes shut for being such a goddamn fool, for even wanting more.
She’s fucking engaged, you moron. Best you remember that.
Chapter Eleven
LIA
The apartment is quiet. Breaker is still in bed sleeping while I sit on his couch, coffee in hand, staring out the window at the view, the same view I have from my apartment. Yet, I feel more comfortable here.
More at home.
It’s why I wanted to come over last night. I felt so out of control, and I needed that comfort.
And that’s exactly what I got.
Despite our fight this week and things being awkward between us—that whole “I stubbed my toe” thing was really weird—I can still rely on him. He held me last night, told me how much he appreciated me, and didn’t let me feel lonely for even a second.