The Boyfriend Effect

by Kendall Ryan

  I shrug. “I think it’s just her.”

  At this, Maren’s eyes widen. “Is she trying to make you jealous?”

  I shake my head. “No, I think she’s trying to make you jealous.”

  Maren’s brows draw together. “I don’t understand.”

  I lick my lips, trying to shake off the strange vibe that’s filling the hallway. The moaning hasn’t stopped. Not even close. “Holly always thought I had a thing for you. Maybe she wants you to think that she and I are in that room.”

  Maren laughs nervously at the suggestion that I had a thing for her. “Well, that’s obviously not true.”

  My throat dries out, and I don’t say anything else. Maren shifts nervously, tugging her T-shirt lower.

  After a beat of awkward silence, I say, “Come on, you can bunk with me.” What choice do I have? She can’t exactly stand in the hallway all night.

  Maren follows me inside the bedroom, dark but for the moonlight. We lie down cautiously, each taking a side of the bed, and I give her as much space as I can, careful not to make inadvertent contact.

  I have no idea how I’m going to keep my hands to myself. I really should have rubbed one out earlier when I had the chance.

  There’s one small blessing, though. It seems that Holly has ended her performance. I can’t believe her, and I really don’t know what I ever saw in her.

  Now that it’s quiet again, my heart is pounding so hard, I have no idea how Maren doesn’t hear it.

  Just then, she turns toward me. “I can’t sleep,” she whispers. “Can you?”

  “No.”

  With the softest featherlight touch, Maren reaches out, placing her fingertips against my jaw. Slowly, she turns my face toward hers. Our eyes meet in the darkness, and I’m still trying to make sense of the heat I see reflected back at me when she leans in and kisses me.

  It’s the smallest movement—at first. Just the soft brush of her full mouth against mine.

  But then I shift, pushing up on my elbow to lean over her, and Maren responds with a small, pleased sound. Her mouth is hungry and hot and moving against mine, making endorphins flood my system.

  When I part my lips and her tongue slides easily inside, my entire body jolts at how good it feels. Her warm mouth is incredible.

  My brain is a scrambled mess of lust and want. Heat and emotion.

  I should leave. But as my control quickly crumbles, I give in and touch her cheek, angling her chin so I can taste more of her. I’m shocked at my actions, but her mouth feels too good to stop, and soon I’m drowning in her.

  Taking a deep breath, I fight to get myself under control, but it’s useless. She’s ruined me.

  Heat pulses between us. I tilt her chin, and with my other hand, give my balls a warning squeeze beneath the blankets. It does fuck all to cool me off.

  Wolfie wouldn’t care that Maren was the one who came on to me. He’d only know that I betrayed him. And that’s what this would be. Despite how right it feels—and believe me, right now it feels really fucking right—it would be a complete and utter betrayal of twenty years of friendship.

  Desire rips the air from my lungs. I’m not easily shaken, but this . . .

  I struggle to stay in control, knowing I should leave. Flee the bed, the room, the lake house, and put as much distance as possible between Maren and me.

  Instead, I completely give in. Nothing matters now except for getting inside her. Her breath catches, and she makes another desire-filled sound.

  Indecision paralyzes me, a sharp ache inside my chest.

  Leave. Stop this now, my brain begs.

  The thought of having to look Wolfie in the eye and tell him I defiled his sister is the only thing that can curb the desire ripping me apart like a bomb. I can’t. Won’t.

  She straddles me, and the contact of her warmth pressed over my hard cock is heaven.

  Oh fuck. Maybe just for a few minutes more.

  What the actual hell, Hayes?

  “Dove,” I rasp out, breathless and rock hard. “Hold up.”

  She pulls back to meet my eyes in the glow of pale moonlight filling the room.

  “We can’t.”

  With a nod and her chin tucked to her chest, Maren makes a noise of agreement. “I know. I’m sorry.” She moves from my lap.

  “It’s just . . .”

  “I understand.” Her expression incredibly sad, she slips from the bed and disappears out of my room and into the hall.

  She might say she understands, but her expression says otherwise. She’s hurt, and I’m the one who caused it.

  I can’t erase from my brain the look in her eyes when I told her we couldn’t.

  Shit.

  Maren didn’t understand anything. She thought I was rejecting her, but the opposite is true. I was protecting her.

  And now I have no choice but to go after her.

  10

  * * *

  MAREN

  It takes every ounce of resolve left in me not to cry.

  I steady myself against the door, staring at the wall between Hayes’s room and mine—well, Holly’s. Her little performance—the thumping and moaning—has stopped, but she’s claimed her territory.

  Besides, I don’t want anyone to see me like this, least of all Holly. My lips are swollen, my panties are soaked, and my heart? It’s pounding so loudly, I’m surprised no one can hear it but me. My throat aches with emotion, and I squeeze my eyes closed and command my shaking body to focus on breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

  But as soon as I close my eyes, I can feel Hayes’s lips on mine. Warm and insistent, pushing and pulling against my mouth with a passion I’ve never experienced before, until suddenly his lips were gone. Until I took things too far and he asked me to leave. Talk about embarrassing.

  A hot shiver creeps over my skin. God, what did I expect? That after twenty years of treating me like a little sister, Hayes would suddenly see me as some sexpot and take me to bed? Life just doesn’t work that way. Not for me, anyway. Years of watching Hayes leave parties with different girls, and then later, leaving bars with different women, should have cemented that into my brain.

  I’m not his type. Period. End of story.

  I don’t want to face Holly right now, but what choice do I have? I’m just considering sneaking to the kitchen for something strong and potent to drink away my shame when the door to Hayes’s room opens, and his deep voice rumbles out my name.

  “Maren.”

  Hope blooms in my chest, curling inside me, sliding lower. I take another deep breath to steady myself. God, I ache for him.

  When I turn to face him, his eyes are dark and conflicted. The promise of hot sex and power radiates from him in waves. He tilts his head, still waiting. I have no idea what to say.

  I drop my gaze, unable to meet his eyes. I can’t take more of his rejection, especially not now, here in the light of the hallway where I have to watch his dark gaze moving over my exposed skin. Where I can feel the desire radiating between us.

  He’s infuriating. And intoxicating.

  Finally, my eyes meet his, and heat bolts through me.

  He steps closer, his fingers press beneath my chin, and he lifts my face toward his. His sensual mouth presses into a firm line, and my stomach squeezes.

  “Come back to my room.” It’s less of a request than it is a demand, and I can’t tame the hot desire that twists through me once again. “Please,” he adds, his voice tight.

  When I dare to meet his gaze again, his eyes have softened. They remind me of rye whiskey, which is oddly relevant to my escape plan to drink myself to sleep. It’s the only way to quiet this ache.

  “We don’t need to have this conversation. You made yourself clear,” I choke out, saddened by how pathetic and broken I sound. A single tear slips down my cheek, threatening to turn into a full-on breakdown. “I’m sorry, okay? I really am. It’s my fault.”

  “No, no, dove,” he murmurs, wiping the tear from my cheek wi
th his thumb. “Believe me, pushing you away was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

  Is he patronizing me? He seems so sincere, but pity can be sincere. Very much so.

  I take a shaky breath, checking over my shoulder. This scene would be suspicious to anyone getting out of bed for a bathroom trip or a glass of water. Wolfie could walk down this hall at any—

  “Maren.”

  Hayes’s fingers brush through my mussed hair, tucking unruly strands behind my ear before he leans in, his lips brushing against my ear in a whisper. “Please, dove. Come back to bed with me.”

  And just like that, I melt, my body responding again.

  His hand sneaks around the back of my neck, massaging the tense muscles there as he leads me back inside his room. When the door closes, we stand in the dark, connected only by his fingers trailing through my hair.

  It feels so good, I can barely breathe . . . and hardly dare hope for what might happen next.

  “I’ll turn on the light,” he finally mumbles, releasing me and walking back to the bed. He sits on the edge, leaning over to turn on the lamp, which casts dim yellow light over his features.

  In the hallway, I didn’t register how disheveled he looks. His hair is messy, hands clenched, a pair of gray boxers hanging low on his hips. His blush can’t compare to mine, but there’s still a distinct coloring across his cheekbones.

  I carefully make my way to the opposite corner of the bed and sit. Hayes shifts so that he’s looking directly at me. How can he be so confident still?

  “What was going through your head? When you kissed me?” he asks, dropping his gaze to the stretch of wrinkled sheets between us.

  What a question. It almost knocks the breath from my lungs.

  “I don’t know. I guess I . . . I’ve always wondered, you know? What did those other girls have that I don’t.” Saying it out loud is like taking bolt cutters to the padlocks on my heart. I’m worried what else will slip out of the vault.

  “Nothing. They had nothing on you, dove.”

  I scoff. Now I know for sure he’s patronizing me.

  “Be real,” I say, shooting him a skeptical look while my fingers busy themselves along the hem of my T-shirt.

  “I am.”

  From the look on his face, the same face I’ve known nearly my whole life . . . he’s not lying. My heart skips a beat.

  “My turn,” I say, my throat tight. “Today in the water, I felt you . . .” I pause and look down, then meet his eyes again when I find my courage. “I felt you get hard. Was that real?”

  Hayes closes his eyes for a moment, his brows furrowing together in some sort of inner turmoil. When he opens his eyes again, he almost looks sad. “Real. Very real,” he says, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it before.

  He looks so vulnerable right now, so different from the powerhouse of a man I’ve come to know and admire. Is he only trying to be gentle with me? Because the vulnerable expression on his face is doing things for me that I’d rather not say out loud.

  I want you so much.

  Slowly, I lean over the bed, crawling toward him. The closer I get, the more the apprehension in his eyes melts into what I can only describe as lust.

  Does he want me too?

  I only stop when we’re a breath apart. Still on my knees, I reach with one finger to trace his sharp, clenched jawline. Hayes’s dark, dilated eyes are fixed on my lips now. With my finger, I trace the outline of his plump bottom lip. The unasked question floats in the air between us.

  And when I kiss him again, I know I won’t be able to stop.

  Hayes sighs into my mouth, his big, strong hands reaching up to cup my face before pushing into my hair. His lips move against mine urgently, his hot tongue sliding inside, flicking against mine with a delicious slickness. With a handful of my hair gripped firmly, but not painfully, he angles our kisses deeper than before. I can’t contain the moan that escapes my throat.

  When I gasp for air, Hayes runs his hot mouth against my jaw, my neck, my still-clothed shoulder. I raise my arms, and he takes the hint, lifting the oversized T-shirt over my head. When his gaze lowers to my bare breasts, I suck in a breath, and when his palms brush the tender skin along their sides, my nipples go erect.

  “So fucking perfect,” he rasps into my ear, lightly pinching one nipple.

  I nearly jolt. Shit. It’s been a long time since a man has touched me. And this is Hayes.

  Everything feels electrified. The heavy thump of my heart. His big hands holding mine. But it’s his eyes that dismantle me. Long, impossibly thick lashes. So much hot emotion reflected back at me.

  So many times, I’ve imagined the kind of lover Hayes would be. Demanding. In control. Generous.

  “Lay down,” he whispers, and I obey without a thought.

  His muscled body stretches over mine, enveloping me in his warmth and his weight. He supports himself on his forearms, and I spread my legs for him, lifting my hips to brush myself against his abdomen. When his rock-hard erection rubs against my core, I gasp with surprise. It’s longer, thicker, and hotter than I remember from the lake.

  Tracing my fingers along the defined lines of his pecs, abs, and obliques, I’m dizzy with desire. When he pushes his length against the front of my damp panties, he does so with slow, deliberate strokes. I claw at his hips, my head spinning with attraction. I’ve never wanted anyone more, and try to push his boxers down with my feet, but he moves away.

  Hayes kisses a trail down my neck to my breasts, his tongue flicking out to brush against one peaked nipple. I cry out, my back arching in ecstasy as he wraps his lips around the taut, sensitive flesh, sucking, nipping, and licking away like my tit is his favorite flavor of ice cream. I tangle my fingers in his hair, pulling tight when I feel his fingertips exploring the skin of my thighs, the edge of my panties. Without removing the wet cotton, Hayes finds my most sensitive spot and gives it a gentle tap.

  I groan, covering my mouth with one hand to muffle the sound.

  He chuckles against my breast, his head dipping lower to kiss the exposed skin of my belly. His fingers dance around my cotton-clad core, stopping only to rub my clit in precise, even circles. I’m already unravelling by the time Hayes hooks his fingers around my panties, pulling them down the length of my legs. With two hands, he spreads my knees, looking down at the bare spot between my legs for the very first time.

  “Dove,” he says softly, running one hand up and down my thigh.

  I shiver at his touch, gripping the sheets around me. I’ve never been this exposed before, never even imagined it. But with Hayes’s eyes on me, I feel alive.

  Suddenly, he’s kissing a line down my thigh toward my center, pausing to tease me with hot strokes of his wet, talented tongue.

  “You—ahhh—you don’t have to—” I stammer between pants.

  Wrapping one arm around my thigh and cupping one ass cheek with the other hand, Hayes looks up from between my legs, his eyes flashing. “I want to. You don’t know how long,” he says, pausing to press another kiss to my most sensitive spot, “I’ve wanted to . . .”

  I arch my back yet again, giving in to the mind-numbing pleasure of Hayes doing something he very clearly excels at. My toes flex and twitch as he massages my buttock with one hand, his tongue circling my clit.

  It goes on like this for a while, Hayes licking my pussy with sloppy, wet kisses, and me grinding myself against his greedy mouth. Just when I feel like I can’t take it any longer, I feel one of Hayes’s long fingers tracing my flesh.

  His lips latch onto my clit, sucking hard as his finger dips inside me, curling at just the right spot. I can feel my orgasm crashing toward me, lost in the sensations of pleasure so intense, I don’t remember anything ever feeling like this. When he slips another finger inside me, I lose it, biting down on my fist to hush the animalistic moan that escapes me as I come harder, faster, and longer than I ever have before.

  When I come back down to earth, my body is covered in sweat, my breasts he
aving with the effort it’s taking me to catch my breath. Hayes is still pressing gentle kisses to my core, sending jolts of pleasure through me with each contact. Half of me could just float away on the waves of this blissful existence forever, but another, more insistent half would prefer to return the favor.

  “How do you feel?” he asks, his voice low and sweet. His lips tickle the bare skin of my thigh.

  “I feel . . . like we’re not done here.”

  He raises one brow in question as I swing my legs over the side of the bed, a newfound energy bubbling inside me. When my knees touch the floor, Hayes’s expression comically shifts from wonder to sheer lust.

  Positioning myself between his parted knees, I rub one hand over the erect length of him through his boxers, enjoying how he twitches beneath my touch. A rough breath escapes his parted lips as I grip the elastic, giving the fabric a soft pull.

  The cotton gives way and I inhale, suddenly speechless.

  His penis is huge. Hard. Daunting. But the desire I have to touch it, suck it—ride it—is an urgent need.

  But before I can finish unwrapping my present, Hayes catches my hands and stops me.

  11

  * * *

  HAYES

  As I gaze down at Maren kneeling in front of me, my heart pounds in anticipation. God, she’s perfect. Petite and curvy and so luscious, I want to devour her all over again.

  I know I should stop her from doing this, but I can’t.

  When I release her hands, she gives me a small smirk. Her full breasts still heave with her breathlessness, and I want to bury my face between them and kiss and suck. But all I can do is sit here on the edge of the bed like a statue and watch as she lowers her mouth to my cock.

  With tentative flicks of her hot tongue, she teases me at first. I bury my fists into the blankets as she opens wider and works to fit the head of my cock into her perfect mouth.

  “Fuck. Yeah, that’s it.” I lift my hips from the mattress, giving her more.

  Maren makes a breathless sound, her tongue teasing as she takes a much-needed gulp of oxygen. She cups my balls in one hand and strokes my aching shaft with the other. Her eyes sink closed as she takes me in her mouth again.