Like Lovers Do

by Tracey Livesay

  She paused in the act of going through her bag. “Why?”

  “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

  “Ben, we’re not teenagers. We’re in our early thirties. We’re friends. And this is a . . . big bed.”

  “If you’re sure?”

  “I am. Aren’t you?”

  “You’re right. We’ll be fine. Get some rest and I’ll check on you shortly.”

  He closed the door behind him and Nic’s gaze immediately swung back to the bed and superimposed the erotic image of the two of them entwined, kissing.

  “Then that’s what I’ll do. I’ll swirl my tongue around them, savoring their feel & taste. But I won’t take it into my mouth until you’re moaning loudly & your hot body is writhing against me.”

  Crap.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I guess we should discuss the sleeping arrangements.”

  Jesus, he’d sounded like a teenage boy on his first overnight trip. He honestly hadn’t given a thought to where they’d sleep, strange considering a day hadn’t gone by where he hadn’t relived their text exchange in vivid detail.

  “We’re in our early thirties . . . And this is a . . . big bed.”

  It was a big bed. And Ben knew exactly how he wanted to utilize the space. It began with laying her down and kissing every inch of her sweet body and ended with him buried so deep within her neither could imagine ever parting again.

  Knowing that’s how he felt—that he was a hair trigger away from bursting back in and lobbying to make that fantasy a reality—were they tempting fate by sharing that bed?

  Groaning, he let go of the handle and headed down the hallway. He’d give Nic an hour to settle down and get some rest before he went back to check on her.

  Tinsley had upset Nic and the fact that he didn’t understand why irritated him. He’d felt her instinctive reaction; the anger had roiled off her so heavily, he was surprised it wasn’t visually observable. But Nic had handled it with her usual plain-speak, take-no-shit attitude, something he admired about her. She stood up for herself. Was strong.

  Which is the very reason things would never work out between the two of you. She’s worked hard to become a doctor. She’s not going to give that up. And you can’t accept anything less.

  When Ben descended the stairs he found Davis sitting in one of the armchairs, a tumbler dangling from his fingers.

  “Back so soon?” Davis asked, his tone unusually solemn.

  “Clarifying the plans for dinner.”

  “Initially, I think Bronwen wanted us to go into town, but now . . .” He raised his brows and tilted his head.

  Ben exhaled. It was probably best they stayed in tonight. “I’ll let Nic know.”

  But his feet didn’t move.

  “Join me?” Davis asked.

  He had some time to kill. “Why not?”

  “Good. Yours is over on the counter.”

  Ben eyed the waiting snifter. “How did you know?”

  “A woman as gorgeous as Nic and you’re only friends but pretending to be more?” Davis took a sip of the dark brown liquid. “It was only a matter of time.”

  Bastard.

  Ben strode over, took the glass, and turned to brace his back against the bar. To his right, large French double doors led to a screened porch that overlooked the expansive back lawn where he and Nic had stood only a couple of hours before.

  “It seemed so simple at the time. Nic and I are friends. We get along great. We could have a fun little mini vacation and discourage Tinsley at the same time.”

  “Except you can’t stop thinking about the nonplatonic good times you could be having.”

  You know my nipples are supersensitive. I can come just from you pulling & sucking on them.

  “I can’t,” he admitted.

  “Then why don’t you do it? I’ve seen the way she looks at you. It’s not one-sided.”

  If only it were that easy.

  “She’s my friend. These days she’s one of my best friends.”

  “Ouch,” Davis said, staring into his glass before taking a drink.

  “Stop it. I see her almost every day. We talk. We share things.” Ben pushed away from the bar and maneuvered around the coffee table to drop into a chair. “What if we sleep together and it ends badly?”

  “Damn, dude, you gotta have more faith in your skills.”

  That’s not what he’d meant. He had no worries on that score. It would be good between him and Nic. He knew it. That much heat mixed with their connection, how could it not? And therein lay his problem. It was hard to deprive yourself of something when you knew it could be great short-term. It was the long-term ramifications that concerned him. But then, he’d always been someone who focused more on the future.

  “I’m serious. Sex changes things.”

  Expectations. Feelings. Regrets.

  Palmer walked into the great room and sank into the chair next to Davis and across from Ben. “Fuck me!”

  “You wish,” Davis laughed.

  Did everything have to be a joke with Davis? “Must you be so juvenile?”

  “Says the man who’s playing games with two women.”

  Palmer lifted his bare feet and put them on the coffee table, crossing them at the ankle. “I just spent twenty minutes listening to Bronwen fuss about Tinsley.”

  “I thought Bronwen invited her?” Ben asked.

  “She did, but she didn’t mean to. She’d seen Tinsley at the Hope Gala and had mentioned how we were all gathering up here for one big hurrah before we left.”

  Ben winced. He could imagine Tinsley hadn’t been happy to hear Bronwen’s announcement. She never liked to think of herself as missing out on anything, having exemplified FOMO before it became a hashtag.

  Palmer sighed. “She said Tinsley sort of invited herself”—he looked at Ben—“after declaring you’d want her to be here since you’d recently asked her out.”

  What the hell? How often was she going around spreading that inaccurate story? How many people now thought he’d been sitting around pining after his ex-fiancée? That’s what he’d meant. Drama.

  Ben shook his head. “It was years ago. In Vail. And I didn’t ask her out on a date, I invited her to join the group I was with for dinner.”

  “Oh. Well, Bronwen was annoyed because she realized Tinsley had basically lied to get here and then when she kept making rude comments about Nic being uninvited . . .”

  Just remembering those comments caused Ben’s pulse to spike. He gripped his glass so tightly, his knuckles whitened.

  “Do either of you know what that remark was about?”

  Palmer frowned. “What remark?”

  “The one Tinsley made about Nic and the alcohol for her.” What was it? “Hennessy and Courvoisier?”

  Davis shrugged. “I assumed she was getting on you for bringing Nic.”

  Palmer nodded. “Courvoisier? Wasn’t that an SNL skit?”

  Ben clinched his jaw. No. There had been more to that comment. Nic’s reaction told him that, even if he’d been the only one who’d noticed. He’d figure it out and once he did, he’d determine how to handle it. There was no way he would let Tinsley get away with insulting Nic. But he’d have to be careful. Nic would hate knowing he’d said anything on her behalf, the insinuation being she’d needed the help. Still, he could stand up for her without implying she wasn’t capable of handling herself.

  “That’s the type of shit Tinns pulls,” Davis said, straightening from his slouch to put his empty glass on the table. “Addressing every bitchy, inappropriate thing she says can be exhausting.”

  Ben agreed. It was the reason he’d been willing to overlook most of those statements when they’d been together. This time, ignoring her rudeness wasn’t an option.

  “Anyway, Bronwen is in no mood to be reasoned with, so if you’re counting on a group dinner . . .” Palmer pressed his lips together and used his hand to make a slicing motion in front of his neck. “Maybe one of you wo
uld have better luck. In addition to everything else, she’s mad I didn’t tell her you were bringing Nic.”

  “You didn’t know,” Ben pointed out.

  “That’s what I said! But she doesn’t believe me.” Palmer pointed a finger at them. “Because one of you should’ve told me!”

  “We had a very valid reason for that,” Davis said. “You can’t keep a secret from Bronwen. She’s your kryptonite.”

  “She’s my wife!”

  “Same thing,” Davis muttered.

  Ben shot him an exasperated look. This isn’t the time.

  “I’m not supposed to keep secrets from her.”

  “And that’s why we have to keep secrets from you,” Davis said, spreading his hands out, palms facing upward.

  “You’re both assholes.”

  “Hey! That’s not nice,” Ben said.

  “That’s also not a secret.” Davis settled back and linked his fingers together over his stomach. “You want back in the club?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “What if there’s another secret we can let you in on?”

  Palmer blinked, his glasses momentarily lending him an owlish look. Ben lowered his chin to his chest and pressed his thumb and index fingers against his temples. The tree-climbing bet, the VIP party, racing cars along one of the many narrow back roads. This is how it always started. When he looked up, Davis was watching him, his brows raised.

  What the hell?

  Ben shrugged a shoulder in acquiescence.

  “Nic isn’t Ben’s girlfriend. They’re pretending, to get Tinsley off his back.”

  “You’re joking. Please say you’re joking.”

  Ben shook his head. “I’m not.”

  “And you can’t tell Bronwen,” Davis reminded him, gleefully.

  Palmer slammed his hand against the chair’s arm in a rapid rhythm. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

  Well, that had been a mistake.

  Ben sighed. “If this is going to be a problem, Nic and I can leave in the morning.”

  “Wait! Do you even know her, or did you pick some stranger to bring to my parents’ house?”

  Irritation tightened Ben’s jaw. “She isn’t a stranger. We’re friends. Everything I said earlier is true. We’ve known each other for three years.”

  “You live together?”

  “She rents my basement apartment.”

  “Oh.” Palmer relaxed. “Well, now I don’t feel so guilty that I find her very attractive—”

  “I know! Those green eyes, right?” Davis slid a look at Ben.

  “Oh yeah,” Palmer agreed.

  Ben gritted his teeth and tried to stem the acidic jealousy blazing through him.

  “But I should’ve picked up on it. She’s not your usual type.”

  “Why? Because she’s black?”

  Ben realized he’d never sat down and considered if the people in his life were racist. He’d never had to. Would Palmer have a problem with him dating Nic because she was black? And if so, what did that knowledge do to their friendship moving forward?

  An “are you serious?” expression altered Palmer’s face. “Don’t be a dick. In the five years since Tinsley you’ve gravitated toward even-tempered, undemanding women and Nic seems more . . . intense. Like, she’s just standing there, but she’s . . . vibrating.” Palmer let his head fall back against the top of the chair. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

  “Nothing about her is still,” Davis added. “She’s always in motion, even when she’s not moving.”

  Ben understood. “She’s cool. She’s beautiful, funny, and she’s smart as hell.”

  “What does she do?” Palmer asked.

  Ben paused. “She’s a doctor.”

  His pronouncement shocked Davis out of his lackadaisical demeanor. “Say what now?”

  “You hate doctors,” Palmer said emphatically, as if Ben had needed reminding.

  Ben laughed a little. “Come on, I don’t hate doctors.”

  They stared at him, unblinking.

  “Okay, they’re not my favorite career professional.”

  “A doctor. How many times have you railed against your parents for putting their high-powered careers ahead of you?” Davis asked. “You think having one as a girlfriend will be better?”

  Palmer chimed in. “Maybe we’re jumping the gun. What kind of doctor is she? Pediatrician? Allergist? Family practitioner?”

  Ben exhaled. “She’s an orthopedic surgeon with a specialty in sports medicine.”

  They exchanged a look and Davis burst out laughing. “Oh man, you’re screwed.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

  He did. He knew exactly what they were getting at because it was the issue that plagued him most about getting involved with Nic.

  “This is new to Palmer, not me. I’ve seen you with her. I’m the one who interrupted you when you were seconds away from screwing each other on the hammock out there. You want her but having her would go against everything you’ve said you always wanted.”

  Ben cradled his head in his hands. “I know.”

  “Does this have to be a big deal? You’re both smart people. Talk to each other, set some boundaries. It could be a good thing,” Palmer argued.

  “Or it could blow up in our faces.” Ben looked at his two friends. “And I’m not sure it’s worth the risk.”

  “She’s that important to you?”

  Ben didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

  Palmer offered him a sad smile. “Then that’s a problem. Although I never understood your insistence on ruling out a large number of women based on their occupation.”

  “Of course you don’t. Your parents were pretty traditional. You never had to worry about them being there for you when we were kids. They made you and Pete a priority.”

  “It had nothing to do with their careers. They made us a priority because they wanted to. The same way Bronwen and I will when we have kids.”

  “Spouses, parents, kids. Can we stop talking about this? Damn, we sound like a bunch of women on a daytime talk show.”

  “What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Ben said, eyeing Davis’s sullen expression.

  “When does Sabine get here?” Palmer asked. “You need to chill out.”

  Based on Davis’s current attitude, it wouldn’t be fast enough. Sabine had a way of curbing Davis’s prickish tendencies.

  “She isn’t coming.”

  “What?” Ben sat up. “Why?”

  “Work. She was offered an opportunity she couldn’t pass up. It doesn’t matter. I’m fine. It’s better this way. Leaves me free to see what the Vineyard has to offer.”

  Despite Davis’s words, Ben saw beneath his bravado to the distress he couldn’t hide. Pinged a disappointment he knew all too well.

  “If you want to talk about it—”

  “I don’t.”

  Ben held up both hands, palms out. “Cool.”

  “Do you want to talk about Tinsley?” Davis asked.

  Distaste burned the back of Ben’s throat. “What about her?”

  “She’s not going to give up without a fight. She’s always been possessive. But more than that, she doesn’t like being denied anything she wants.”

  “I’m not a toy or a piece of meat.”

  “Boo hoo. Ben’s torn between two beautiful women.”

  Palmer pushed to his feet. “I’m going to try and talk to Bronwen again.”

  “Don’t tell her about Nic,” Ben warned.

  “I won’t. Even though you both have made my life more difficult.” He strode away murmuring, “I told her we should’ve left and just sent you fuckers postcards from Kenya.”

  Ben laughed but his smile faded as he considered Davis’s remark.

  “Ben’s torn between two beautiful women.”

  He wasn’t torn. It was no contest. Nic would win every day and twice on Sundays. Apparently, he needed to make sure Tinsley got that message.

 
Chapter Twelve

  The warmth against Nic’s back was deliciously welcome though unfamiliar. Still, she snuggled into it, murmuring in appreciation when her nose registered a recognizable scent. She couldn’t quite place the origin of the fragrance, but she knew she liked it. A liquid heat crept through her inducing her to heed her body’s unconscious urge to squeeze her thighs together.

  The steel band beneath her breasts tightened and hauled her backward against a solid, muscled mass. A puff of air feathered against the nape of her neck, raising goose bumps on her body. She trailed her hand along the arm, loving the crisp feel of hair beneath her fingertips.

  She never slept at her lovers’ homes and she definitely didn’t bring guys here. But she felt so comfortable in this position. In his arms. It felt right. She shifted, decreasing the space between them, needing to get as close as possible.

  Lips nuzzled the base of her neck where it met her shoulder—her spot!—and she shivered. Her nipples budded against the material of her camisole and she undulated her hips.

  Maybe she was dreaming. If so, please, please, please don’t wake up. When she was on call, her sleep was often irregular. Some nights she’d be roused from a deep sleep with no concept of her unconscious state. Other times, she’d been living her best life in slumber and had mourned the loss when awakened. She knew this would be one of the latter circumstances. She wanted to bask in the heady sensations she was experiencing and fight off the cold realism of awareness for as long as possible.

  Nic reached behind her, her palm encountering a bristled scruff and hot skin before her fingers slid into the crisp silk of hair. A strong hand smoothed down her arm and cupped her breast. Fire seared through the thin silk of her top and the fine scrape against her sensitive bud sent sparks of pleasure pinging through her. She ground her hips, seeking to be filled. Instinctively knowing what she sought was behind her.

  The hard ridge against her ass told her she was right.

  “Nic?”

  The voice was gruffer than she was used to, with an enticing rumble that would’ve had her turning on her back and spreading her thighs wide in invitation.