I Think I Love You

by Lauren Layne

  “I’ll get it and bring it to her,” Daisy said, starting for the door.

  Hunter touched Daisy’s arm. “I’ll do it.”

  She gave him a skeptical look. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? She didn’t seem all that excited to talk to you.”

  “Well, that’s just too damn bad,” he muttered. “Because I have every intention of talking to her.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  She’d forgotten her coat.

  Brit didn’t realize it until she stepped out of the cab outside her apartment. The heat from the kiss had finally started to dissipate, leaving her with almost zero protection against the January chill.

  She walked as quickly as she could in her heels toward the building, praying none of the concierges would be in a chatty mood.

  Then again, maybe it would be better if they were. A distraction would be perfect, as she wasn’t at all sure she was ready to be alone with her thoughts. The cab ride had been bad enough, the kiss playing over and over in her head. Adding to her misery was the fact that her cabbie was apparently the one taxi driver in New York who didn’t know his way around Manhattan, and it had taken twice as long as it should have to get from the Upper West Side to Chelsea.

  Twice as long to think about what had just happened.

  She’d kissed Hunter.

  Well, Hunter had kissed her, but she’d definitely kissed him back. And it had been . . . explosive. Epic. Game-changing.

  And she was scared to death. How did they possibly come back from this? How could they ever look at each other the same way on movie night, each knowing what the other felt like. Tasted like.

  Oh God, how could she face him in the office? Only slightly less appalling than the fact that she’d kissed her best friend was the fact that he was also her boss.

  She’d kissed her boss.

  Oh gawd. Would the horrors never stop?

  The night concierge was on the phone when she walked past the reception desk. So much for a distraction.

  In the elevator, she pulled out her cellphone and started to send a text to Emma, letting her know that she’d forgotten her coat and would it be okay to swing by tomorrow to pick it up.

  She wasn’t particularly looking forward to facing Emma, knowing that Emma had witnessed the Kiss, but it was that or have Cassidy bring her coat to the office on Monday, and somehow that would be even worse.

  Brit stepped off the elevator onto her floor, prepared to hit SEND. . . .

  And saw Hunter.

  Her best friend was leaning on the wall outside her door, her coat draped over one arm, his expression unreadable.

  Brit blew out a long breath and dropped her phone back into her purse, message unsent.

  Hunter straightened as she approached, but neither of them said a word as she opened her apartment door. The things that needed to be said weren’t the types of things one said in a hallway, for all to hear.

  “How’d I beat you back?” he said, finally breaking the silence as he set her coat on her barstool, then shrugged out of his own.

  “Crappy cabdriver. Took Broadway.”

  He nodded in understanding, then went to her fridge. He pulled out a bottle of sparkling wine and held it up. “You saving this?”

  “No?” she said in confusion, looking at the prosecco. “I can’t even remember where I got it. Maybe picked it up for a girls’ night and we never got to it?”

  Hunter went to her cupboard and pulled out two flutes. She watched as he removed the foil, popped the cork with a quick twist of his hands.

  He filled the glasses and came toward her, handing her one.

  “I’m confused,” she said slowly, accepting the glass.

  “About?”

  She looked up at him. “Why the heck we’re drinking champagne instead of discussing what just happened.”

  “We’re drinking champagne because of what just happened.”

  “Champagne is usually celebratory.”

  He nodded in agreement. “It is.”

  “Hunter, we only kissed. That’s not something to be celebrated.”

  He held her gaze. “You sure about that?”

  “Yes! It’ll ruin everything we have.”

  “From where I was standing, there was nothing ruinous about it.”

  Her lips twitched in spite of her distraught mood. “Ruinous.”

  He smiled back. “Good word, right?”

  Brit felt a little stab of relief at the realization that even after what had just happened, they were still them underneath it all.

  “Maybe it doesn’t have to be a disaster,” she said slowly. She spoke faster and faster as she warmed to the thought. “We can chalk it up to a onetime mistake. Heck, next week we’ll probably laugh about it, and next month it’ll be forgotten.”

  Hunter was watching her as she spoke. More accurately, watching her mouth.

  “Don’t do that,” she whispered.

  “Don’t do what.”

  “Look at me like that.”

  “Like what?”

  She ground her teeth at his deliberate obtuseness. “Like you want to . . . you know.”

  “Do it again?” His eyes came up to hers.

  “Do you?” she whispered. “Want to?”

  Instead of answering the question, he lifted his champagne glass and clinked it against hers. “Cheers.”

  “To what?” she asked, even as she did as he did and took a sip of the bubbly.

  Hunter’s grin was slow, deliberate, and very sexy.

  “I still don’t understand what the heck we’re celebrating.”

  “Preemptive celebration,” he said.

  “For?” She frowned as he took the glass out of her hand and set it on the counter alongside his own.

  Hunter stepped toward her and hauled her against him. “For this.”

  There was no hesitancy in his kiss this time. Not on her end either. Even as her brain roared in panicked protest, her mouth clung to his, her nails digging into his shoulders as she tried to pull him closer.

  “We shouldn’t do this,” she said on a gasp as his mouth trailed down her neck.

  “Like hell,” he said.

  “What if it changes things?”

  “It won’t,” he said, pulling back and meeting her eyes. “I care about you too damn much to lose my best friend. But damn it, Brit, I want you. I’ve been wanting you. And I think you want me too.”

  She said nothing, and his eyes flashed with vulnerability. “If I’m wrong—”

  “You’re not wrong,” she said, shaking her head quickly. “I’m just . . . scared. Things are already changing between us; this will make them change more.”

  “Maybe this is what we need?” he asked, brushing his lips over hers softly. “To get this out of our system so that we can get back to normal. We’re adults, Brit. We can have sex and friendship if we choose to.”

  His hand slid around to the back of her neck, tilting her face up to his as he searched her expression. “What’ll it be?”

  Sex and friendship.

  He made it sound so simple. Maybe it was simple. Maybe this was what would uncomplicate things.

  Tentatively, she pressed her lips to his, pulling away slightly to answer his question. “Sex and friendship it is.”

  He growled in warning. “Be sure.”

  “I’m sure,” Brit said.

  The words were barely out before Hunter’s mouth closed hard over hers.

  As with everything else he did, he took command, his tongue stroking boldly against hers, one hand holding her head still as the other slid around her back, pulling her all the way against him.

  Brit’s hands went to his chest, fingers clinging at his shirt as she gave in to the onslaught of feelings, both physical and emotional.

  On one hand . . . this was Hunter.

  On the other hand . . . this was Hunter.

  Everything about him seemed perfect; everything about them together was just right.

  She’d been so s
ure that being with him like this would mess everything up, but right now it felt the opposite. As though they were finally finding each other after all this time.

  His mouth gentled on hers, even as his hands became more urgent. His fingers dug into her hips, tugging her against him, before they slipped up under her shirt, sliding over her hot bare skin.

  Brit did some touching of her own, her hands skimming down the hard planes of his chest and then sliding under his shirt.

  He groaned as her nails dragged lightly over his torso, his mouth crushing hers in a searing kiss.

  He lifted her, and she’d never been so grateful for her tiny apartment, because the bed was wonderfully close.

  Instead of laying her back, he set her on the side of the bed, holding her eyes as he reached for the hem of her top. “Told you this was a good shirt,” he said with a slight smile.

  She laughed lightly. “I do seem to remember a certain coach telling me sexy was a state of mind.”

  “Oh yeah?” he asked as he slowly pulled the shirt up and over her head. “Are you there yet?”

  “Where?” she asked in a shuddery breath as he tossed her shirt aside.

  Hunter looked into her face instead of at her now-exposed bra. “Are you in a sexy state of mind?”

  “Um—”

  “That’s a no,” he murmured. “But we’ll fix that.”

  He motioned her back on the bed, following her down until he was half leaning over her, his palm warm against her stomach.

  Now he was looking at her breasts, and she felt the heat of his gaze as acutely as if he was touching them. And then he was touching them, first with a gentle finger trailing over the tops, then following with his tongue.

  Brit said his name on a sigh as his fingers tugged the fabric down, his tongue finding her nipple.

  By the time he removed her bra and lowered his head to worship her breasts, she was beyond a sexy state of mind. She was in a sexy state of being.

  Feeling bold in a way she didn’t usually with a man, Brit wiggled out from under him and then pushed him to his back, straddling his hips as she looked down at him.

  He lifted his eyebrows in gentle challenge. You’ve got me. What now?

  She showed him. With shaky hands and a little help from him, she stripped him down to his boxers.

  “Take these off,” he growled, tugging impatiently at the waistband of her jeans as she lowered over him once more.

  She deliberately disobeyed, bending to kiss him instead, first his lips, then every inch of his chest.

  “If I’d known what you were hiding, I might have suggested we do this a long time ago,” she said, nipping lightly along his six-pack.

  Brit’s mouth drifted lower, but Hunter caught a handful of her hair gently, tugging her up for a kiss and then rolling her to her back.

  For a moment, the playfulness disappeared as he cupped her face and met her eyes. “We shouldn’t have done it long ago.”

  Brit felt a little twinge of hurt, but he shook his head to indicate she’d misunderstood. “I mean I’m glad we waited. If we’d done it back then, it wouldn’t have been as good as it is now.”

  Proving his point, his hands went to her waist, unbuttoning her jeans and sliding them down her legs, holding her gaze all the while.

  Her panties were black to match the bra. When she’d dressed, she told herself the sexy ensemble had been for her, but now she wasn’t so sure. Wasn’t so sure that some part of her hadn’t been hoping for quite some time now that she and Hunter would end up this way.

  She kicked her jeans away, and he cupped her over her underwear. Brit moaned, too turned on to be embarrassed.

  His hand slipped beneath the fabric, his fingers sliding over just the right spot with such perfect precision that she arched up in need. He kept one hand between her legs, the other holding her face to his for a searing kiss as his fingers stroked and explored. He knew exactly what he was doing, seemed to know what she needed before she did. As though he knew her every wish. And maybe he did. Maybe that was the benefit of doing this with someone who knew you so well—

  Brit’s orgasm caught her by surprise, and she came with a cry she barely recognized as her own.

  He rested his forehead on her shoulder for a moment, his breath nearly as quick as hers. “Condom,” he ground out. “Tell me you have one.”

  “Nightstand,” she managed, still gasping for air.

  Hunter pulled away. She heard the drawer open, the crinkle of a condom wrapper. When he came back, his boxers were gone, and she let herself look at him—all of him.

  Holy crap. She was seeing her best friend naked, and it was good. More than good.

  Hunter slowly dragged her underwear down her legs, then lowered over her, elbows framing her face, his fingers tangling in her hair.

  “Last chance to call it off,” he said.

  Brit kept her eyes on his as she parted her legs wider, then wrapped them around his waist, arching up in unmistakable invitation.

  “No regrets,” he commanded as he eased forward, sliding into her, slowly at first, then more surely as he filled her.

  “No regrets,” she repeated on a gasp as he thrust fully inside.

  Hunter groaned and held still for a long moment before pulling back and thrusting again. Faster, harder, their bodies unmistakably perfect for each other.

  “Brit,” he said as he quickened his pace, his hands finding hers on the mattress, his fingers twining with hers. “Brit.”

  She came again, this orgasm even stronger than the last, and he was right there with her, chanting her name over and over as his body shuddered against hers.

  Even after it was over, he clung to her, and her to him, until the weight of him became too much and she wriggled in discomfort.

  He slowly withdrew, dropping a kiss on her shoulder and rolling off the bed to go to the bathroom.

  Still unable to move, Brit stayed sprawled in her sexual haze for a few moments longer, until she heard the toilet flush. She pushed to a sitting position just as he came out of the bathroom.

  Don’t let it be awkward, she prayed as she bit her lip. Please don’t let this have ruined everything.

  Hunter went to her dresser, unabashed in his nakedness, rummaging around and then tossing a couple of garments her way.

  She looked down at the fresh panties and sleep shirt as he pulled on his boxers.

  Then she looked up. “This is perhaps the first time a guy has tried to dress me after sex.” “Perks of having sex with your best friend,” he said with a grin. “Unless, of course, you usually sleep naked, in which case I have zero objections.”

  “Gentlemanly of you,” she retorted, pulling the shirt over her head and wiggling into the underwear.

  “I thought so.”

  She expected him to put on his jeans and shirt, but instead he came to the bed, pulling back the covers and sliding under them.

  “Um—”

  “Other perk of sleeping with your best friend,” he explained. “We don’t have to do that awkward dance of figuring out how to get the other person the hell out of our apartments.”

  He looked at her for confirmation when she didn’t say anything. “Right?”

  “It’s not awkward,” she said, more to herself than to him. “Why is that?”

  “I told you. Because we’re adults, and adults can choose to be friends and lovers.”

  “For how long?”

  “For how long what?”

  “Are we lovers?” she asked. “Onetime thing?”

  He ran a hand over his hair, then got out of bed again, retrieving their champagne from the kitchen counter and bringing the glasses back to the bed. “Before we did it, I thought so. I thought a one-and-done would get it out of our system.”

  She took the wineglass he held out. “And now?”

  He took a drink of the sparkling wine and studied her. “Now? I don’t think it’s even remotely out of my system.”

  She smiled, and she knew it wasn’t
the coy smile of a woman playing it cool but the giddy grin of a girl learning that the boy she liked liked her back.

  At least she was pretty sure.

  “Can we watch TV now, or do we have to have some weird awkward talk?” he asked.

  She scooted to the foot of the bed, leaning against the covers and sliding her legs beneath as she patted the seat beside her. “Stay. But it’s my turn to pick the movie.”

  He gave a dramatic sigh but climbed into bed beside her.

  Together, they sipped prosecco and watched some cheesy but entertaining disaster movie about the end of the world. It was just like a million nights before, and yet Brit kept waiting for it to feel different. Kept waiting for the moment of horror when she realized exactly what she and Hunter had done. When she registered the embarrassment of the fact that their clothes were scattered all over the room, their bodies still slightly flushed.

  The horror never came. It was just like before. Except she kept smiling more than she usually did.

  And he kept looking at her.

  And when they turned off the TV to go to sleep, there was no pillow between them this time.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Waking up the following morning, Hunter immediately registered that he wasn’t in his own bed, and his first thought was dread. He made it a point not to stay over at a woman’s place after sex.

  Sleeping beside someone somehow felt more intimate than sleeping with them in the carnal sense of the phrase.

  Then the sleep haze started to wear off, and he realized he recognized the ceiling. The bed. The room.

  The woman.

  Slowly, Hunter turned his head to where Brit slept beside him. She was on her side facing him, the comforter bunched down around her waist but the sheets pulled all the way up, tucked under her chin. As though she’d gotten hot in the middle of the night and shoved at the covers, only to sleepily change her mind and pull up one of the layers.

  Her lips were parted slightly, her hair a mess.

  She looked beautiful.

  Carefully, so as not to wake her, he rolled from his back to his side. Strictly speaking, watching someone sleep was a little creepy, but that was yet another benefit of sleeping with one’s best friend. She wouldn’t write him off as a total weirdo if she woke up and caught him staring. At least, he was pretty sure.