I’m such an idiot.
What a huge mistake.
CHAPTER FIVE
REID
Remove your hand from her pants.
Remove it right this fucking minute.
What the hell are you thinking?
Your hand is in your best friend’s sister’s pants.
Remove.
It.
Clearly I’m not thinking about consequences today, and I’ve lost my mind completely. From the moment I saw her walk into the Inn, some primal part of me took over my entire body and decided to make one bad decision after the other.
Bad decision number one: shots.
Then dancing.
Then grinding.
Then letting her see how fucking turned on I am.
Then sticking my hand up her shirt.
And the worst decision of them all: sliding my hand down her pants and over her bare ass.
Jesus Christ, I’m as good as begging to be featured in the town newspaper. Front page: Reid Knightly Stupidly Feels Up Friend’s Sister.
Subtitle: He’s Crushed on Her for Years.
Second subtitle, if that’s even a thing: Obsessed with Her Ass.
Sponsored by Marv the Drunk and Barb the Voyeur.
Still pressed tightly against me with my cock like Italian marble trying to poke through my pants and jab her in the stomach, she lowers my head and whispers, “It’s getting pretty bad outside. Want to just head back to my place?”
I pause because I swear on Marv’s hairy back that my dick just tore a hole through my pants and is joining this two-person party on the dance floor.
Back to her place?
Like . . . get naked back to her place? Continue dancing back to her place? Crash on the couch with a boner while she sleeps in her room back to her place?
Even though option three is the most sensible, my heart and my body are aching for option number one.
Fuck, to be with Eve—it would be every childhood and adulthood fantasy come true. This woman has had a hold on my balls for over a decade now, and no woman I’ve been with has ever compared to her, not even close.
My dream girl, my fantasy, the most untouchable woman to ever walk into my life.
But in this moment, it feels like she’s actually within reach, and for some reason, I find myself swooping in, one interaction at a time, when I know I should be peeling away.
Shocked, I put a little distance between us, wanting to see if she’s coherent, or if the alcohol we consumed is controlling her thoughts. But her eyes are still lucid, and I know she’s serious. Hell, she’s really inviting me back to her place. So the only question is, What kind of invitation is it?
I must be taking too long to answer—she caught me off guard, thrusting my horny fantasies into reality—because her eyes suddenly harden, and she blows past me, heading right for the door and out into the snowy landscape.
Oh no she doesn’t.
She’s not getting away without an answer to that invitation.
Not when I was so close to making a dream a reality.
I quickly toss some money at Barb, who doesn’t even move as the bills float to the sticky bar floor, and then make my way outside into the blizzard, where I can barely see a few feet in front of me. The snow thickens the air like a curtain closing on my unexpected but fantastic night.
In the light of the streetlamps lining the road, I catch a glimpse of Eve power walking through the snow toward a small apartment complex. Her head is tilted down, determination in each step.
Following in her tracks, I jog after her and catch up in no time, no thanks to the insanely large flakes of snow whipping through the air. Something washes over me—the realization that I’m not sure I can end this night without at least knowing what it feels like to have this woman’s lips on mine. Instead of grabbing her shoulder or her wrist to get her attention, I do the only thing that comes to mind: I tackle her.
Right into the fresh powder.
Because I’m a good guy, I twisted in the air, bringing her on top of me rather than crushing her against the ground with my weight, but even as the cold encases our bodies, I make sure to have a firm grasp on her so she can’t escape.
“What are you doing?” she squeals, squirming in my arms.
“Where do you think you’re going?” I ask as snow pelts my face, making it impossibly hard to open my eyes.
“Back to my place,” she grunts, still trying to free herself.
“Without letting me answer your invitation?” I roll her to the side and bury her in the snow. She squeals some more, her face full of shock.
“Reid.” She pushes on my chest. “Get off of me.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” I lean down and nuzzle my nose against hers, and her defensiveness starts to fade away as she laughs. I roll us again, and this time she’s on top of me again.
“There’s snow in my pants.”
“Want me to replace it with my hands?” I ask as I reach out, grab a handful of snow, and shove it down her jeans.
“Ah!” she screams, swatting at my chest and shimmying her body up and down mine, doing nothing to calm my erection, which doesn’t seem to be fazed by the cold weather.
Somehow she escapes my grasp and runs down the sidewalk—but not before gathering up a ball of snow and chucking it right at my chest.
Bull’s-eye.
Snow splatters up to my face, but I don’t let it deter me as I swoop in like an eagle homing in on its prey. I run at her, Eve playfully screaming the whole time, and tackle her into the snow again. But this time, I’m not as nice and let her go face first. We twist our bodies around, and she ends up back on top of me. And when she looks down, her face covered in snow, I let out a bark of laughter.
Her eyebrows, eyelashes, hairline, and lips are all covered in the heavy snow, making her look like she was just rescued from the Arctic.
She swipes one hand across one eye and then the other, her eyes on fire, ready to murder. I love feisty Eve, so I brace myself.
“I’m going to get you,” she warns right before scooping up a pile of snow and shoving it up my shirt and onto my exposed skin.
A sharp wave of winter races up and down my abdomen, cooling my raging erection slightly—though not enough because I quickly reciprocate, shoving snow up her shirt, and when my knuckles brush against her bra, I’m aroused once more.
It takes very little, apparently, when it comes to Eve.
“Reid, stop it!”
“You stop,” I shoot back just as she flings snow at my face. She laughs and takes off again.
I’m buried in even more snow, so it takes me longer than expected to get out of the hole we’ve created, and by the time I catch up to her, she’s heading into her basement apartment. Before she can shut the door, I slip inside with her and close the door behind me.
Both covered in snow, we stare at each other, our faces red, our hands frozen, the warm apartment already making the snow fall off us in large, wet clumps.
Her lips twist to the side as she looks me up and down. “I have snow in my crack thanks to you.”
“Better than the stick you usually have shoved up there.”
Her eyes widen, and a rueful smile passes over her lips before she takes a step forward. “Lord knows you’ve tried to pull it out several times with zero luck.”
“Unclenching would help a guy out a lot.”
She rolls her eyes and turns so her backside is facing me. “If you’re so upset about the stick, then why are you here?”
“Uh, because I was invited.”
“I had a weak moment.”
Hands stuffed in my pockets, seeking any kind of pseudowarmth I can get, I rock on my heels. “Look at me and say that.”
Turning to face me again, she brushes a piece of hair that was plastered to the side of her face behind her ear. “It was a weak moment.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Not my fault.” She nods to the door. “You know how to s
ee yourself out.”
“Yeah,” I drawl. “I’m not going anywhere.” I kick off my boots and push them to the side, my socks getting soaked in the puddle of fallen snow. “Sorry, Eve. I’m here for the night.”
Eyes narrowing, she crosses her arms over her chest. “You’re so stubborn—it’s annoying.”
“You’re the one who invited me back to your place. I don’t see how this is my fault. I’m just taking you up on your offer. Now, what kind of food do you have? I’m famished.” I dust the snow off my clothes, every inch of fabric sticking to my skin, and walk to her small kitchen, where I peer into the fridge.
Yikes, she has nothing in here.
“Help yourself. Pretty sure I have a jar of minced garlic and barely a squeeze of ketchup.”
Yup, that just about sums it up.
“Not even eggs? How do you live?”
“Just fine. If you’re hungry, I suggest you put your boots back on and head over to the Inn. Barb will fix you up something really nice.”
“We both know she’s abysmal in the kitchen.”
Eve shrugs.
I take that moment to step out of the kitchen to where she’s still standing in the entryway. I reach for her hips, but she steps away before I can get a firm grasp on them.
“What are you doing?”
Trying to romance you, but clearly I suck at it.
“Dancing?” I reply, wincing at the uncertain question in my voice.
“The night is over, Knightly. Either leave or park it on the couch.”
Motherfucker. That was the least-appealing option. Figures. Maybe the snow fight was the wrong kind of foreplay. I mean, I practically cooled her loins with a fistful of snow down her pants.
Real fucking smooth.
Talk about a broken-love curse—my dick may as well have fallen off at this point. I hold my back and feign soreness. “You know, I would love to sleep on your seventy-year-old couch.” I glance at the dilapidated thing that’s seen better days. “But I’m afraid I have a bad back. Wouldn’t want my sciatica to flare up. I think it’s best I sleep in your bed.”
She rolls her eyes. “Either the couch or the floor. Up to you, Knightly. As for me, I’m going to take a nice, hot shower.”
I’m about to answer back when—as if in slow motion—she grabs the hem of her shirt and pulls it completely over her head, revealing her simple white cotton bra.
I’ve seen her in a bikini before—I’ve lusted after her in a bikini—so this really should have no effect on me, except that it does, and in the worst way possible. The entire night comes piling on top of me. Her roaming hands; our close, thrusting bodies; my lips caressing her ear; her fingers running through my hair.
In an instant, I’m harder than ever, and my body heats up from the inside out, threatening to burst into flames.
It’s impossible not to stare at her sleek curves and her smooth skin. I make no attempt to divert my gaze, and instead I eat her up inch by inch, starting at her navel, spending an adequate amount of time on her breasts as they rise and fall rapidly beneath my gaze, and finally ending with her eyes, which bore into mine.
I bite my bottom lip. “So . . . just peeling clothes off now?”
Not my smoothest line, but Christ, I wasn’t expecting to be in Eve’s apartment with a raging boner while she stands in front of me, shirtless.
“Yeah, I am.” She reaches behind her, spins on her heel, and, smoothly popping open the clips in the back, removes her bra. I watch the fabric slide down her toned arms and to the floor as she disappears into the bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar.
Fuck.
I drag my hand over my mouth and shift in place as I try to figure out what the hell I’m supposed to do now. I wrench my eyes from the fallen bra and shift them back up to the bathroom, where I can spot a small portion of her exposed back reflected in the mirror.
Why is the door ajar?
The shower turns on.
Did she do that on purpose?
The curtain slides open.
Does she want me to join her?
Christ, what if she does? Showering with Eve? That’s definitely an entry on my list of things I’ve only dreamed of doing with my best friend’s sister. Shower sex, wall sex, missionary sex, dirty fucking, sixty-nine sex, kitchen sex, boat sex . . . hell, fucking on a boat. My dick presses hard against the zipper of my jeans, begging for release.
But what if she doesn’t want me to join her? What if I walk in on her naked and showering, and she screams bloody murder and throws bars of soap at my head?
I waver about what my next move should be: park it on the couch and ignore the white bra on the floor or charge through the partially open door and take what I’ve wanted for years.
Fuck.
Well, I know what my dick wants, that’s for damn sure—he’s nearly leading the charge.
Hand gripping the back of my neck, I consider texting my siblings for help, but that will only bring more questioning and ridicule, along with a hefty dose of inappropriate and useless GIFs.
I’m going to have to be a big boy and figure this one out on my own.
My gut churning with indecision, I peek through the cracked-open door and stare at Eve reflected in the mirror. From my vantage point, I can see the smooth curve of her hip—only her thong still present—and about an inch of side boob.
Christ.
Side boob.
The death of any red-blooded male’s self-control.
Beyoncé is wrong: Girls don’t run the world. Side boob does.
Side boob runs the world.
My will slips, and before I can stop myself, I’m charging like a bull just released from his cage into the bathroom, banging open the door and tearing off my shirt at the same time.
She doesn’t flinch, nor does she jerk away at my entrance. Instead, she keeps her back turned, presenting me with her thong-clad ass as she peeks her beautiful face over her shoulder. “Took you long enough.” A wicked smile plays at her lips as she hooks her fingers through her thong and steps out of it, tossing the small scrap of fabric to the floor, leaving nothing to the imagination.
Holy fucking shit.
Talk about dreams coming true.
Without a second look back, she pulls the shower curtain to the side and steps in, keeping her back to me the entire time. Steam billows out from the top of the shower and fills the small space, stealing some of the air I’m desperately trying to suck into my lungs.
Unsteady, knees a little wobbly, I undo my jeans and thrust my briefs down to the ground, my cock springing forward. Excitement and nerves weave together as I take a deep breath.
This is really happening. I’m about to shower with Eve Roberts . . . you know, naked.
CHAPTER SIX
EVE
What the hell has gotten into me?
I’m shaking in the hot shower, not from the snow that was shoved into every crevice of my body but from my complete brazenness—thank you, tequila shots.
I don’t do things like this, strip in front of men out of nowhere and offer up a little shower time. And definitely not with Reid.
Ever.
Yeah, we flirt, we joke, we tease, we occasionally touch, but that’s as far as anything has ever gone between us.
Getting naked in front of each other . . . yeah, never done that before. We’re facing brand-new territory here.
I run my face under the hot water, busying myself so I don’t lose my mind from nerves. Is he going to join me? I mean, I made my intentions quite clear.
Hey, Reid, let’s look at each other’s private parts. Doesn’t that sound like a nice, wintery thing to do?
I press my hand over my eyes, absolutely despising myself right now. What’s taking him so long? Is he ever going to join me?
If he does, oh God, he’ll be naked. I’ll see his penis, the legendary Reid Knightly penis that’s been discussed, ad nauseam, all over town.
I don’t think I’m ready, because after I felt it pr
ess against me, I can tell you one thing: I’m pretty sure the legend is true.
On the other hand, he’ll also see me naked. I mean, he’s seen my backside, but a front side is a completely different story.
It’s apples to oranges.
Nipples to butt cheeks.
Everyone has butt cheeks, but not everyone has nipples . . . well, I guess everyone does have nipples, but it’s different. Nipples are sacred; butt cheeks can easily be exposed during a drunken night and a dare for a full mooning. But nipples, in my world, are saved for intimacy.
So, are we about to get intimate? If he hops in this shower and starts doing a buddy wash, I think I might die of absolute humiliation.
A buddy wash. Pass the soap, pal. Coming your way, comrade.
Just drown me now.
I can’t have that. I can’t stand here and soap up my privates with Reid only to high-five afterward and hit the hay. No way in hell. With my thoughts spiraling, I’m about to call the whole thing off when a cool breeze filters in, and Reid steps into the shower.
I keep my back to him, feeling my whole body stiffen.
He’s here.
My breath catches in my chest, my emotions swinging from over-the-moon excited to wanting to disappear down the drain.
That’s until his hand lightly travels over my shoulder down my side to my hip, where it lands softly. He holds it there for a few heartbeats before he tugs, signaling for me to turn around.
I swallow hard, my heart about to beat out of my chest as my hands shake.
This is Reid. Why am I so nervous? I’ve known him since before his voice started cracking. This is the boy who always stole my attention, who teased me some days and stood up for me on others.
But then again, this is Reid, the boy I’ve watched grow into a devastatingly handsome man. He’s the man who’s been there for me through thick and thin.
My friend.
My crush.
My brother’s best friend.
When I turn around, everything is going to change. The relationship we once had will either morph into something amazing or be thrown away for one crazy, albeit sexy, moment in the shower.
But even now, there’s no turning back—and only one way to find out where this is all going to lead.
That Secret Crush Page 6