Friends with Benefits: A Friends to Lovers Holiday Romance (A Different Kind of Love Book 4)

by Liz Durano

  I can’t believe I never once glanced at my phone the whole time I was with Campbell. “I guess I missed it. Did you guys have fun?”

  “Your mom won twenty bucks.”

  I glance at the old-fashioned answering machine on the console table, its light flashing to indicate they’ve got one message. Wanna bet it’s from me letting them know I was spending the night at Campbell’s.

  “You lost twenty bucks so we’re back to zero,” Mom tells him, chuckling as they both head to the kitchen. “I’m going to warm some meatloaf, Cait. Your dad’s starving. Have you eaten?”

  “No, not since breakfast.” I let my finger linger on the answering machine’s Play button before pressing it, pressing Stop the moment I hear my voice. No, they don’t need to hear that, definitely not when I don’t even know what to think, my heart still racing at the mere thought of Campbell and the moment he winked at me when he caught me snooping on him in the bathroom. Something changed between us today and until I figure it out, I’m not saying anything to anyone. For all I know, it could just be my imagination. Maybe even wishful thinking.

  “Then I’ll make enough for all of us,” Mom says as I join her in the kitchen. Dad walks to the living room and turns on the radio. Seconds later, holiday music streams from the speakers as he claims his spot in his favorite armchair and elevates his feet.

  “Weren’t you hanging out with Addy and Piper this week?” he asks from his spot.

  “That’s not till three days from now,” I reply. “I actually can’t wait to see Piper and be an aunt. She’s like a mini-me.”

  Dad chuckles. “She sure is. Feisty like you, too.”

  “So how was your date with this Malcolm guy?” Mom asks, pots and pans clanging in her wake. “Did Roxy get it right this time?”

  “Not really, but I had fun.”

  “As long as you had fun, then it’s not really a disaster, is it?” Dad asks and I shake my head.

  “No, definitely not a disaster.”

  As Mom turns on the oven and starts telling me about our cousins in New Jersey, I don’t know why I’m keeping Campbell’s name out of the discussion. I don’t understand why I’m lying. Am I scared? Am I afraid they’d get angry if they found out? I know Jordan certainly won’t approve. Or at least, he won’t be happy knowing I’m putting his friendship with his best friend in jeopardy. What if Campbell and I don’t work out?

  But then, what if we do?

  Two days later, Campbell picks me up exactly at six and he looks absolutely amazing in a midnight blue dress shirt that highlights his eyes and dark pants that emphasizes his muscled thighs and long legs. The sight of him standing at the door is even better than I imagined the past two days.

  Hell, I’ve been barely able to sit still at all or focus, for that matter. Even Roxy became suspicious about how absent-minded I’ve been since she knew Malcolm and I didn’t hit it off that night but she didn’t push for details. But ever since the day I spent with Campbell, all I can think of is him, his rock hard abs, and those muscles. And his eyes… and his smile. I’ve even found myself going through the photos on my phone from years past, amazed at how I’d never really noticed just how hot he really is. It’s not like I’m blind or that my man-radar is off, but maybe it’s because he’s my brother’s best friend and I know better than to imagine doing dirty things with him. Too bad I can’t stop myself from doing just that right now.

  “You look... stunning,” Campbell says as we stand in front of each other, fidgeting. How long have I been standing at the door without saying a thing, too busy thinking about him and his blue eyes... and his abs?

  “Thank you.”

  “Why the boots?”

  I look down at my two-inch knee-high boots. “Anything wrong with them? They don’t go with what I’m wearing?”

  He shakes his head, chuckling. “They look great on you, Cait. Somehow, I thought you’d be wearing–”

  “Stilettos, you mean, to go with the dress?” I say as he nods. “And tower over my date?”

  “Not with me.”

  “Well, you’re not the many guys I dated back in LA. Most of them were under 5’11. Not to say there’s anything wrong with that... it just ruled out heels for me.”

  “Good for you, I’m not one of them,” Campbell says. “You won’t have to worry about that on our next no-date date.”

  “You remembered!” I love how cocky Campbell gets when he’s not being Campbell, my brother’s best friend.

  “Why wouldn’t I? You set the rules, remember?”

  “I did, didn’t I?”

  He thrusts his hands in his trouser pockets and playfully takes a step forward. “Are there any rules to this no-date date I need to know about? I wouldn’t want to break any of them.”

  The way he looks at me makes my mouth turn dry. It’s a look he’s never given me before, one that tells me he likes what he sees... and not in that ‘she’s my best friend’s-sister’ kind of way either. It’s something else, one that makes my stomach do somersaults and my heart beat a bit faster. And I want more.

  “Not really. But why don’t we play it by ear tonight?” I whisper. “It’ll be an experiment.”

  “I like the sound of that.” His voice is deeper this time, huskier, his gaze lowering down my body and I bite my lower lip playfully, teasing him by shimmying my shoulders. He chuckles, his cheeks coloring as if I just caught him doing something he’s not supposed to be doing before he peers over my shoulder. “Where’s everyone?”

  “My parents are at a Christmas party.” I take a step forward so I’m inches in front of him. “I even told them not to wait up for me.”

  “You did?” His mouth is mere inches from my own, our noses almost touching. It’s as if I’m caught in a trance under his gaze, broken only by my giggle.

  “We’re being silly, Campbell,” I say nervously. “Are you ready?”

  He clears his throat and takes a step back. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready.”

  The drive to the city is relatively quiet, the silence broken only by a debate on whether to listen to holiday songs or the current hits. We settle for whatever station he’s already got saved and it happens to be a talk show.

  “I like to keep up with the news,” Campbell says when I glance at him. “So what have you been up to since I last saw you?”

  “Just hanging out with Roxy and the girls,” I reply, checking my nails. “We did more shopping and she taught me how to apply makeup like they do on those Instagram posts.” I also got myself a Brazilian wax but that would have been too much information to spring on the guy on a date that’s not supposed to be a date.

  “The ones where their makeup’s literally painted on?”

  “Yup.”

  Campbell’s eyes narrow. “Is that what you really want?”

  “Not really.”

  “Then you don’t need to do that, not unless you want to. I don’t remember ever seeing you with a lot of makeup on, though. Either that or you do an amazing job making it seem like you’re not wearing any.”

  I frown. “I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

  “I think you’re beautiful just the way you are, Cait. Inside and out.”

  I feel my cheeks turn red. “No, you don’t. You used to hate my guts when we were kids.”

  “That’s when we were kids.” He shifts his gaze back on the road before I can say anything, exiting 495W to Downtown and then to his apartment building where he parks his car. After helping me into my wool coat, we walk two blocks to a classic bar tucked away in a dark corner of Grand Central Terminal.

  The moment we step out of a poorly marked elevator, I do my best not to stare. If this is a no-date date, then color me impressed… very impressed. With its 25-foot hand painted ceilings, a mahogany balcony, and a century-old leaded glass window and original millwork from the 1920’s, I almost feel inadequate stepping inside. I’ve gotten so used to the casual vibe of Los Angeles that I’ve forgotten what New York grande
ur feels like. And as Campbell guides me to one of the hunter green seated booths, it’s also a world I’d never imagined him to feel at home in.

  “Do you come here often?” I ask as soon as we’re seated and he laughs.

  “Wait! That should be my line.”

  “But I thought this was a no-date date.”

  “True, but if it makes you feel better, I meet my boss here sometimes and we discuss business,” he says. “Portfolios, projections, and other stuff that’ll bore you to tears if I keep going.”

  I almost tell him that he can bore me all he wants but that would mean amping up my flirt meter a hundred percent, even if we’re already flirting right now. The sexual tension between us is so thick I could slice it with a knife.

  “So after what happened the other night, I think I’ll play it safe tonight,” I say. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

  He cocks an eyebrow. “Whatever I’m having?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m about to have a good stiff drink.”

  “Then I’m having one, too. Just one this time,” I declare, determined to keep up with him.

  “Lobster rolls or grilled cheese bites sound good to you?” he adds. “They only serve appetizers here.”

  “Sounds great.”

  Forty minutes later, I’m tipsy, sated, and my cheeks are hurting from all the smiling and flirting as Campbell hails a cab to get us to the theater on time. Between my first sip of Aviation, the cocktail he picked out for me, to the moment when he tucked an errant lock of hair behind my ear, I think we’ve clearly stepped beyond the line that marked us as just friends to something else.

  By the time we make it to the theater, the mere brush of his hand on my elbow or my hand leaves me feeling giddy, and somehow I can’t help but assume it’s no longer accidental. Even the theater disappears whenever Campbell turns to look at me, all my senses heightened and focused on what he’s doing, the words he’s saying. When he holds my hand as we make our way to the lobby during the intermission, I don’t see anyone else.

  How long has it been since I’ve been with a man? Somehow I draw a blank. All I remember are the first dates that barely made it to first base, much less the second, my mind constantly on my research projects, meetings with my advisor, and that unwavering goal of making it to graduation and then finding a job.

  But for tonight, I’m willing to toss all that out the window. I’m having way too much fun being with a man I’ve always felt safe with, my brother’s best friend and the boy next door. Only this time, something’s different. Somewhere between then and now, Campbell Murphy grew up and I never saw it until now.

  Six

  Why on earth did I have to pick Coriolanus for our first non-date date? Caitlin can’t stop crying and I’m glad my boss had center row seats so no one has to scoot past us to leave the theater and I can just hold her as she talks about the things she loved about the play (everything), the lines that gutted her (a lot of lines) and the fact that she had to see her favorite actor play a betrayed general who gets killed onstage complete with fake blood. Ten minutes later, she dabs her tears with my handkerchief and blows her nose.

  “Do you want this back?” She holds up the handkerchief and I shake my head.

  “You can keep it.”

  She sniffs as she studies the embroidered initials on the fabric. “It’s monogrammed.”

  “It’s from my mother. She still gives me monogrammed everything for my birthday.”

  “Oh wow, she still does it,” she whispers and I nod. “I thought she stopped doing that.”

  “Well, she still does.” Even when she barely had any money, my mother always tried to find something to make me feel important. She knew how devastated I’d been after Dad left, shattered when she had to sell the house and find a live-in job as a cook for a rich family in the city because she didn’t know how to do anything else. So even when money was tight because whatever she made went to the joint credit cards Dad had taken out without her knowledge, she’d buy plain handkerchiefs and embroider them with my initials for my birthday. She’s since remarried, and while the handkerchiefs are no longer the cheap ones she used to buy at the dollar store, she still sews my initials on them herself.

  “Thank you, Cam. This was just amazing. Now I can’t get the lyrics out of my head.”

  “You’re welcome, although I don’t think there’s anything wrong with lyrics being stuck in your head. Just don’t suddenly break out in song. Or if you do, give me a warning.” I move my arm from her shoulder. “You ready to head home?”

  Caitlin’s brow furrows. “You’re taking me home already?”

  “Actually, I was thinking maybe we could go to my apartment and hang out a bit. Come to think of it, you never got to see the tree all lit up.”

  Caitlin bites her lower lip as she smiles. It’s a playful smile that makes the knot in my belly tighten. “That’s right. I haven’t.”

  Suddenly all I see are the signs that I’ve fought so hard to ignore plain as day. How much longer can I go flirting with her when the last thing I want is to jeopardize my friendship with her older brother? Jordan is my best friend, or as he loves to say, my brother from another mother. He helped get me through the toughest times in my life, brought me into his family and he trusts me with his sister. If I truly value my friendship with Jordan and his family, I need to put an end to this madness now. I need to stop stringing Caitlin along and make her believe something’s going to happen between us.

  But is that what I really want?

  “Let’s go,” I say, my voice barely a whisper as I get up, knowing the moment I take her hand that there’s no way I can let her go now.

  We make it to my apartment in twenty minutes and by the time we walk through the door, we’ve had it with the self-control. I know I have. It took all of my willpower not to kiss her in the cab or the theater or the bar. It took the last thread of self-control not to kiss her in the elevator. But as soon as the door shuts behind us, it feels like a dam breaking and one touch of her hand on my face, stroking my stubble in the semi-darkness is all it takes for me to let go—that and thanking my lucky stars I hadn’t set the timer for the Christmas tree or all this tension that’s built up between us all night would have gone to hell.

  “Cait…”

  That’s all I can say before I lower my head and kiss her. While I’d done my best to act cool around Caitlin the entire evening, it left a part of me almost distant, closed off only because I didn’t know how she’d react. I kept second-guessing every touch, every smile, every time she snuck a glance at my direction during the play. When I held her hand, squeezing it as an emotional scene played onstage, I suddenly felt alive, as if a real live connection had been established between us. No more guessing.

  But there’s nothing like a kiss to seal the deal as I lose myself in the taste of her lips and the exquisite feel of her tongue. It’s heaven in a kiss I’d never experienced before and like a man in search of the sublime, I want more. My hands move along her sides, slipping inside her coat to feel her soft curves and the warmth of her skin from underneath her dress.

  “Our coats… they’re in the way,” she mumbles as she lets go of my neck and shrugs off her purse and her coat, her hands tugging at my shirt from under my coat.

  “Cait, are you sure about this?” I ask as she pushes my coat off my shoulders.

  She looks up at me with her big green eyes and my breath catches in my throat. God, she’s beautiful.

  So what the hell am I doing? Why the hell am I stopping her when this is exactly what I want, too?

  “Just for tonight.”

  “And then what?”

  “Then we can go back to the way we were,” she whispers. “Don’t you want to?”

  I groan. “You have no idea how much I want you, Cait.”

  “Then stop talking and kiss me,” she whispers fiercely as I respond with a kiss, this time deep and unforgiving. Her lips part, my tongue slipping between her teeth
to taste her and savor every part of her that I can. We manage to get our coats off and then our shoes before I lift her in my arms, feeling her legs wrap around my waist as she holds on to me, our mouths still locked together, quenching fires that had been simmering all night long… no, ever since we spent the day shopping at the holiday market and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. Her scent is intoxicating, the feel of her body electrifying against my own, so soft and curvy and sexy.

  We stumble onto my bed, giggling as we land on the soft covers. I can’t get enough of her. My mouth travels along her cheek to the sensitive skin behind her ear, feeling her shiver against me as I continue my exploration down her neck. Her hands undo the buttons of my shirt, tugging it loose from my pants.

  “Roll over,” she whispers and circling her waist with one arm, I roll onto my back while bringing her on top of me. As she straddles me, the lights from the neighboring buildings and the city below illuminate her exquisite form, casting her ginger hair in an ethereal glow. I hold my breath, watching her slip off her dress in a slow striptease that makes me want to pull her down to the bed so I can take over. But I don’t. I like watching Caitlin take charge. I love watching her be herself with me, only this time, in a way that’s only meant for me.

  Clad in only her bra and panties, she resumes her mission of getting my shirt off and with a little help from me, succeeds with a grin before blazing a trail of warm kisses on my neck and chest, all the way down my stomach. I’m so hard, her sex pressing against my erection not helping in any way. She’s determined to tease and undress me and by God, I’m letting her do it. Until I can’t.

  “You’re determined to tease me, aren’t you?” I murmur as she starts to unbuckle my belt, biting her lower lip in concentration.

  “Maybe,” she whispers. “I never realized you worked out. You’re ripped.”

  I trace her thigh with my fingers. “Thank you. But you never asked.”

  “You never took your shirt off whenever you stopped by the house.”