The Friend Zone

by Kristen Callihan

  Then I met Ivy. Somehow, she caught me. Ivy is peace and warmth and hope, and I find myself holding on tight, afraid that if she lets me go I’ll be in a free fall once again.

  The fact that one person has so much power over my happiness scares the shit out of me. I know how fragile life is. Here today, dust tomorrow. But only a fool cuts his one lifeline.

  I’m no fool even if I act as though I am to the outside world. So I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Ivy.

  Twenty-Two

  Gray

  GrayG: I think we need to put a sexting rule into our playbook.

  IvyMac: There’s playbook? When did we get a playbook?

  GrayG: We’ve always had one. The Book of Ivy and Gray. It’s epic. I’ve added a large addendum to cover sex. Play Pattern 1 (Shenanigans): fuck as often as my dick and your pussy hold out.

  IvyMac: Lovely. You are truly gifted with words. Is there a reason you’re texting me when we’re in the same bed?

  GrayG: To test out my new phone. And so I can see that little smile you make when you read them. Have you always smiled like that over my texts?

  IvyMac: Always, Cupcake.

  GrayG: Lie back now, honey. I’m going to lick that sweet pussy and see you smile some more.

  “Gray!”

  Ivy turns to glare at me from over her bare shoulder. Her cheeks pink. “Do you have to use pussy? It’s so crude.” She sounds annoyed, but those gorgeous dark eyes of hers glaze over with want. It makes my hard dick throb.

  “Vagina then?” I give her a leer.

  Her nose wrinkles. “Er…no.”

  “Lady lips?”

  She’s laughing now. “I’ll never live that down.”

  Grinning, I toss my phone aside and reach for her. She’s all warmth and long limbs and smooth skin. “Love pot?” I murmur, skimming my lips down her long torso. “Honey muff? Secret garden of delight?”

  “Crazy nut,” she calls me.

  “Now, Mac, we’re going to have problems if you can’t tell the difference between a nut and a pussy. Here…” I ease her thighs apart. “Let me educate you.”

  Her phone falls from her hand, the sound of her squawking protests and laughter drifting off into a gurgle as I bury my head between her legs, kiss her softly. Again. And again. Until I finally take a long, savoring lick and lose myself, drunk off the honey-sweet slickness that is Ivy.

  * * *

  Ivy

  Gray decides to convert my bed into a tent, hanging all my available sheets over the canopy until not a bit of the room peeks through. That he’s naked as he does this serves as my entertainment. I bite the edge of my lower lip as his pale, taut butt flexes and the muscles along his back and shoulders ripple. Gray completely owns his body and always moves with assured grace. Though I suppose if I were as fit and firm as he is, I’d flaunt myself that way too.

  Right now, I can’t think about moving. I’m sore all over, a delicious kind of ache achieved by a night of marathon sex. I smile into my pillow. Last night, we’d gone at it with single-minded devotion, stopping only to doze or talk. In the middle of telling a joke or simply talking, we’d remember that, yes, we can touch. And that would be it, mouths caressing, hands touching, Gray moving inside me.

  When the sun came up, Gray hunted down the leftover pain aux raisins, which he declared the best thing he’d ever had in his mouth. Well, aside from my “sweet-as-fuck pussy.” And I had to give him points for being both complimentary and crude.

  Standing above me now, Gray catches my smile and grins back. Everything we’ve done—every dirty, sweet, raunchy thing—passes between us like a shared secret. Heat swells within me, but I don’t move.

  Finished with his task, he scrambles under the covers and pulls me close. His skin is cool, and I wrap myself around his big body to warm him. Gray exhales in a sigh before slowly peppering my face with soft kisses. “Call me crazy,” he says as he kisses along my cheek, “but ever since I was a kid and saw A Christmas Carol, I’ve wanted to sleep in an enclosed canopy.”

  I run my hands over his shoulder. Warm satin and carved granite. I love touching him. “Hmmm. This feels more like we’re in one of those old-fashioned canvas tents.”

  He glances at the white sheets surrounding us. With the sunlight filling the room, the enclosed little space glows golden. But it is cozy and quiet, and ours. I burrow closer to Gray, touch his jaw, the plump curve of his lower lip. He nips my fingers. “Yeah, it really needs dark sheets for the full Victorian effect.”

  “That’s okay, I’ve always had an Out of Africa safari fantasy.” Smiling, I run my fingers along his temple. “You can be my Robert Redford and wash my hair later.”

  “Isn’t he a little old for you, Mac?” He wrinkles his nose is mock horror.

  “Sexy doesn’t have an expiration date, Cupcake.”

  “Well, at least I know you’re into blond dudes.” Gray hunkers down further into the pillows. Against our nest of white sheets his skin is like amber honey, his eyes lapis blue. He’s so freaking gorgeous, he takes my breath.

  “I’m into you,” I say.

  As if he’s equally mesmerized, he traces along my face, his long fingers deft and gentle. “I meant what I said before, Ivy. I’m so fucking crazy about you, I…” His teeth sink into his full lower lip. “I’ve never felt like this. I don’t want to fuck it up.”

  Worry and possessiveness darken his gaze, as if he wants to grab tight to this moment so it won’t slip away. Tenderness swells in my throat. I lick my lip, now sensitive from his kisses. “I know,” I whisper. “This is big, Gray. But if we’re honest and talk to each other when we’re freaking out, it will be okay.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do.” The blunt tip of his finger runs along my brow and down to my cheek. “Mac?”

  “Yeah?” I can’t stop touching him either. His neck. The hard curve of his shoulder. The vein than runs along his inner arm.

  “What’s your fantasy?”

  I pause my exploration. “What, you mean as in sexual?”

  “Yeah.”

  Heat washes over my cheeks. “I’m not… No. I can’t tell you that.”

  “Why not? You told me in explicit detail how you wanted to be fucked.” He grins wide. “Which was insanely hot, by the way.”

  I duck my head, pressing it to his shoulder. “That was different. We were on the phone.”

  “I wanted to be in that bed with you so damn badly, Mac. I think I bruised my dick jacking off to your voice.”

  A shocked laugh escapes me, and I give his chest a kiss. “I wanted you there too.”

  Gray hums again, his big hand smoothing over my head before he eases away to catch my gaze. “So what is it, then? What’s your deep, dark, naughty fantasy?”

  “Why do you want to know so badly?”

  A little furrow grows between Gray’s brows as he studies me. “I want to give you everything. Every experience you ever dreamed of. And things you never knew you wanted.”

  Oh. My breath hitches.

  “Come on.” He nuzzles my nose with his. “Tell me, honey.”

  I close my eyes. “Okay. It’s nothing dramatic or even very creative. I’m seduced by a stranger.”

  “‘Seduced’?” Gray kisses me as if he needs a quick taste. “How so?”

  God. So embarrassing. I huff out a breath. “I’m reluctant, you know? But he cajoles, talks me into it. Makes me undress when I don’t want to. And…you know,” I trail off with strangled sound. “Fucks me.”

  “Kind of kinky in a subtle way.” There’s a smile in Gray’s voice. “I’m impressed, Mac.”

  I open my eyes to glare. “It’s not a rape fantasy. I’m not into violence. I don’t get off on stranger danger. In real life, I’d punch a guy in his throat if he—”

  “It’s okay, honey.” He cups my cheeks, his expression open, earnest. “I get it. They’re called fantasies for a reason.” The corners of his mouth curl as heat enters his eyes. “I like yours.”

  My r
esponse is a grumpy grunt. He chuckles, giving me another light kiss.

  My embarrassment fades in the face of his care. “What about you? What’s your deep, dark fantasy?”

  Gray flinches as though I’ve surprised him. “Me?”

  “Yeah, you.” I frown. It’s as if he never expected me to bother with his needs. “Why shouldn’t we try yours too?”

  His touch slides away as his lids lower, hiding his eyes from me. “Nah. I don’t really have one.”

  “Bullshit. Everyone has a fantasy.”

  The broad line of his shoulders tenses. “Not me.”

  I rise to my elbow, leaning my weight on it as I scowl down at him. “You won’t tell me. Unbelievable.” I poke his pecs. It’s like poking a rock. “You don’t trust me.”

  At that, Gray’s eyes narrow. “I trust you more than anyone in the world.”

  His tone is hard, defensive. He looks so stubborn—his jaw set as if bracing for a fight—that I have to clamp down on my frustration. I won’t force him. Even if it hurts that I confided to him when he refuses to do the same.

  Taking a breath, I rest my hand on his arm. “I know it’s hard, but I won’t laugh. I promise.”

  Gray refuses to meet my eyes, biting his lip instead as his cheeks pink. “I don’t think you’ll laugh. I just… This particular fantasy, if you can call it that, doesn’t work if I have to ask for it. It’s stupid. I know that. But it’s the truth.” There’s a plea in his eyes. He knows he’s being unfair, yet he’s willing me to understand.

  With a sigh I rest my head on my pillow and stare up at him. “Fine. If you can’t ask for it, then I’ll have to figure it out on my own.”

  Though his shoulders are still tense, a teasing light comes into his blue eyes. “Give it your best shot, Special Sauce.”

  “Let’s see.” It’s something that embarrasses Gray. My options are limited. Gray isn’t shy about sex. I run my finger down the little valley along the center of his chest. His nipples tighten in response, and I grin. “Is it you with another man?”

  Gray chuffs out a laugh, but he’s relaxing. “No. Although I can see that interests you.”

  “Well…” My finger circles the tiny nub of his nipple. “It would be kind of hot to see.”

  His breath hitches, and he cants his hips. His cock, now hard and seeking, presses against my side. “That sounds more like your fantasy than mine, Mac.” A small smile pulls at his mouth as he rests his head on his hand and leans in. “I feel so cheap and used.”

  “Mmm…poor baby.” Softly I press a kiss to the crook of his neck where his pulse beats. I love the way his body reacts with a shiver of pleasure and the feel of his big hand smoothing along my hip, as though touching me gives him pleasure as well. Everything is warm and lazy, and that low, sweet ache for him builds. I let it grow slowly, just touching him for now, enjoying the anticipation of having him again.

  My voice is husky when I whisper, “Don’t worry, Cupcake, I’d be there to hold your hand.”

  Gray’s chuckle is a rumble in his broad chest. His hand slips back up my hip and around to my butt. He rests it there as his head lowers so that we’re nose to nose. “Nice try, Mac. But no chance. I don’t want to share you.”

  “Even if it’s with another girl?” I tease.

  His nostrils flare on an indrawn breath, his gorgeous lips curving upwards just a bit. “That image has definite possibilities. But, no, I don’t want another girl in our bed either.”

  I love that he says our bed and that his fingers twine with mine. His other hand slowly slides down my ass to my thigh, lifting it with languid slowness and resting it on his hip. Spreading me. The tips of his fingers skim along the opening of my sex, such a light, fleeting touch that I might have imagined it. I clench in response.

  Slightly distracted, my voice goes breathy. “So having a bunch of girls in your bed at once isn’t your secret fantasy?”

  His smile remains but his eyes dim with wariness. And because I know him so well, I understand that look. I can’t help it; my body tenses.

  “Right,” I say with false levity. “You’ve already done that.” Of course he has. He’s told me how wild a sex life he’s had.

  I want to turn away. Close my eyes and not think about Gray and all the women he’s been with.

  But he knows me too. His hand cups my face with such care that my heart squeezes. “Hey. I don’t like that expression. Makes me worry that you’re thinking the wrong things.”

  I try to smile but fail. “It’s stupid. I shouldn’t be jealous—”

  “No, you shouldn’t,” he agrees softly, his thumb caressing my cheek.

  “I can’t help it. I think of all the things you’ve done and…” I look away and bite my lip to stem the flow of stupidity leaving my mouth. But I’ve gone this far. Feeling ill, I tell him the rest. “What if being just with me gets boring to you?”

  “Boring?” Gray rasps. I hazard a glance and find him staring at me, his brows raised, his eyes wide and shocked. “You’d think I’d rather have a bed full of chicks than be with you?”

  God. I sound so insecure when he voices my fears. “I don’t want to think that way,” I murmur.

  He rests his forehead against mine, his breath a warm caress against my lips. “Ah, Mac. You have it so wrong.”

  I resist the urge to squirm. Almost absently, his hand drifts over my sex again. Nothing more, not seeking, but as if he can’t help exploring. I arch my back, moving into his touch, heat licking over my skin.

  But his focus is on my face. “You want to know what it’s like?” he asks. “All those things that I did?”

  “Not really,” I mumble.

  “Well, I’m telling you. I promise never to lie to you, so you know what I say is true.” His voice is solemn, his expression earnest. “It was a novelty act. Half the time I was outside of myself, snickering at the fact that I was doing those things. The other half was awkward, elbows going where they shouldn’t, impersonal desperation, weird shit like girls obviously faking that they’re into each other because they think that’s what I wanted to see.” He clears his throat. “Yeah. Not hot. Not like it is with you.”

  “Gray…”

  “No, Ivy. Don’t blow this off,” he whispers. “You have to know. I get hotter from just kissing you than any sex I’ve had before.” As if to prove this, his lips find mine. His kiss is a slow, seeking exploration that has my insides melting and his breath quickening.

  Our lips meld and part, and he gives my lower lip a sexy little lick. “So hot. So perfect.”

  In one smooth roll, he moves over me, his arms bracketing my shoulders, and then he’s entering me, all hard, heavy cock and steady intent. The action is so unexpected, so good, that I gasp, my legs spreading wider to take more of him.

  “Yeah,” he says. “Like that.”

  He grunts when he pushes, as if he has to work hard at fitting his thick cock into me. My body tightens at that delicious feeling of him stretching me, filling me. Going just a bit deeper each time.

  In the diffused light, he is golden, his blue eyes burning bright.

  Gray’s lips coast over mine. “This, Mac. Doing this with you is the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking done. Because it’s you. You get me so worked up I want to pump my dick into you. Over and over.” A shudder runs through his body, his skin prickling. “It’s the best feeling in the world. I don’t want it to end. I don’t want to go back there, to that cold-ass place where nothing really matters.”

  On a sob, I wrap my arms around his shoulders and draw him close until his sweat-slick chest rubs against mine. Gray burrows his face into the curve of my neck and groans as he fucks me.

  God, the way he moves, using his whole body to thrust, an undulating, hard rhythm that’s just a bit dirty, as if my body is his to use. And yet tender as if he’s worshiping me.

  He’s right; it is the best feeling in the world. My hips rise to meet his, my hands sliding to the hard swells of his ass that flex with every th
rust.

  “That’s it, honey.” He groans. “That’s it. Move that sweet little ass and fuck me back. God, that’s good.” He’s panting now, sweat making his skin glisten. “Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

  He goes deeper, hitting a spot that makes me lose my mind. I lose track of how long he fucks me. There’s only pleasure and Gray and yearning for more. Always more. And when I come, he lets go, his pace hard and desperate. He follows me with a long, low groan that vibrates his chest.

  I hold him, my lips pressed against his sweaty brow. He thinks he’s distracted me from learning what he secretly yearns for. But I know what it is now, and I’m going to give it to him. As much as I can.

  Twenty-Three

  Ivy

  Gray and I spend every moment we can together. Which isn’t really any different than our normal routine, only now our moments involve bouts of hot, sweaty sex. And it isn’t nearly enough for either of us. Gray’s classes are done for the semester, but intense workouts and training regimens to prepare for the playoffs take up most of his time.

  “I swear to God, my quads and hamstrings feel like they’ve been torn from my bones,” Gray tells me over the phone as I make chicken salad. I stare down at the chicken breast I’ve been pulling meat from and, with a grimace, toss it aside.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t be partaking in any shenanigans until you can catch a break,” I say. Reluctantly, because I pretty much want Gray all the time.

  He makes a rude noise that nearly vibrates my phone. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that, Mac,” he drawls. “Otherwise my fragile feelings might get hurt.”

  I scoff at that. “Don’t worry, Cupcake, I’m basically thinking about your cock in my mouth right now.”

  Gray makes a strangled sound. “Jesus, Ivy. You can’t be saying that when you know I’m stuck watching footage and studying plays for the rest of the day. Are you trying to kill me? You’re lucky I’m soaking in an ice bath right now.”