Best Friends, Secret Lovers

by Jessica Lemmon

  While he worked over her other breast, his fingers moving at a hastened speed, she cupped his shaft and gave him a stroke. And another, and then one more, until he had to pull his lips from her body to let out a guttural groan.

  “Flynn,” came her desperate plea. “I need you.”

  “I need you, too.” So bad he could hardly think. Ending the torture of foreplay, he swept her panties down her legs and paused long enough to strip off his briefs. Only then did he hesitate. There was a small matter of birth control to consider before they continued. “Condom. I have one upstairs.”

  She nodded hastily. “I’ll come with you.”

  “Yeah,” he said with a lopsided smile because damn, he was at ease right now. “That’d be best.”

  He snatched her hand and helped her up, leaving their dishes and scattered clothing where they lay. They darted up the stairs naked, but not before he gave her a playful swat and sent her ahead of him. He had to get a better look at that ass, and since she’d robbed him of the pleasure of a thong, he hadn’t had the chance to admire it yet.

  Sabrina naked was a beautiful sight.

  Her bottom was heart-shaped, leading to a slim waist, strong back and small shoulders. Each and every inch of her was deliciously toned yet soft and touchable. And touching her was exactly what he intended to do.

  At the back of the hallway, she entered his bedroom and turned around. His breath snagged. Not only were her dusky nipples perched on the tips of her breasts like gumdrops, but between her legs she was gloriously bare. He’d noticed when he touched her with his fingers, but seeing it nearly brought him to his knees.

  She bit her bottom lip, white teeth scraping plump pink flesh and setting him off like a match to a fuse.

  When he caught up to her, he wrapped her in his arms and cupped her bare butt with both hands, giving her cheeks a squeeze. They tumbled backward onto his king-size bed framed by a leather headboard.

  She looked good on his deep charcoal-gray duvet and crisp white sheets beneath. The contrast of her dark hair spread over the white pillowcase made him glad he didn’t have a drop of color in this room. Sabrina added her own. From her pink cheeks to her bright blue toenail polish.

  He found a condom in the nightstand drawer and rolled it on, his hands shaking with anticipation. She must have noticed, because next she caught his wrist and smiled. Then she nodded, anxious to get to the next part—almost as anxious as he.

  Positioned over her, he thrust his hips and entered her in one long, smooth stroke. She pressed her head into the pillow, lifting her chin and saying a word that would forever echo in the caverns of his mind.

  “Yes.”

  It was damn nice to hear.

  She felt like heaven. Holding him from within as reverently as she held him with her arms now. His throat tightened as he shoved away every thought aside of the woman beneath him. Which wasn’t hard to do, since the physical act of making love to Sabrina Douglas was a singular experience.

  If there was room for any other thoughts, he couldn’t find it.

  He rocked into her gently as they found their rhythm in the dark. Save the slice of moonlight painting a stripe on the bedding, the room was marked with shadows. He had no trouble making out the slope of her breasts or the luscious curve of her hips.

  And when he had to close his eyes—when the gravity of what was happening between them was too much to bear—he still saw her naked form on the screen of his eyelids.

  The vision stayed until he gave in to his powerful release, caught his breath and was finally able to open his eyes.

  Thirteen

  Light filtered in through slits in her eyelids, but that wasn’t what woke Sabrina the next morning. It was the tickling sensation against her forearm that beckoned her toward the sun. When that tickling climbed higher up her arm, she shivered and popped her eyes open.

  Goose bumps decorated her arm and the tickling sensation was courtesy of the tip of a dry paintbrush. Flynn dragged the brush over her collarbone and down over the top of her breasts. She was only slightly alarmed to find she was still naked.

  The man currently painting her with shudders had made her shudder plenty last night before they fell asleep side by side in his very big bed. It’d been a long time since she’d had sex. The physical act of making love was amazing. Almost as amazing as the man she’d made love with.

  Flynn’s stubble shifted as his smile took over his face. He was a glorious sight. His messy hair was bathed in Seattle’s morning sun. His blue eyes dipped to follow the path of the paintbrush down and over the crest of her breast. She smiled, drugged by this stunning new facet of their relationship.

  “You’re dressed,” she croaked, her morning voice in full effect. “No fair.”

  “I picked up coffee and croissants. Thought I’d wake you before you slept the day away. And before your coffee went cold.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Little after eleven.”

  “Eleven!” She bolted upright in bed and looked around for a clock. Not finding one, she pressed a button on her phone. 11:14 a.m. “Wow. I never sleep this late.”

  His grin endured and she narrowed one eye.

  “Don’t be cocky.”

  “Hard not to be.” He stood and slid the paintbrush into his back pocket. “Come on. Breakfast awaits.”

  She didn’t know where he bought the croissants, but they were the best she’d ever tasted. Especially with strawberry jam and a healthy dollop of butter. The coffee was perfection, and she had the passing thought that this would be a splendid way to spend every morning.

  “You seem to have settled into your hiatus okay,” she teased.

  “You had a lot to do with that.” He slathered a croissant with jam and took a huge bite. After he swallowed, he added, “I thought you being here would help me relax, but I didn’t expect you to help me relax that much.”

  An effervescent giggle tickled her throat. The low hum of a warning sounded in the back of her mind but she ignored it. She didn’t want to consider what could’ve changed—what definitely had changed—since last night. “I think it’s safe to say that neither of us expected that.”

  “Or expected it to be that great.” His eyebrows jumped as he took another bite.

  “It was great.” Her eyebrows closed in as she turned over that unexpected thought. “This is oddly comfortable. I guess it shouldn’t be odd. It’s not like we don’t know each other. It’s just that now we know each other...biblically.”

  That earned her a rough chuckle, a sound she loved to hear from her best friend no matter the situation. Only now that chuckle sent chills up and down her arms much like the paintbrush this morning. Sex had added a layer to their friendship that she wasn’t done exploring.

  “I talked to your landlord.”

  “And?”

  “He bitched a lot about how he regretted buying the building, which he affectionately called a ‘dump,’ and then he mentioned that they’ve been looking into leaks in the apartments above you and below, but yours is the one they can’t isolate.”

  “Lovely. I was so adamant about having that apartment in particular.” She shook her head with a token amount of regret. At the time she hadn’t been thinking about the lack of light coming in through the windows or the noise coming from overhead and on both sides of her since she was in the center of the C-shaped brick building. “I was too busy admiring the rough wood flooring and the open layout and the proximity to the elevator to think of much else.”

  “Doesn’t look like you’ll be going back to your own apartment anytime soon. I have plenty of space here.” He watched her carefully, as if waiting for her to argue.

  That alarm buzzed a little louder, warning her that things were changing—had changed, she mentally corrected. But how could she say no? She wanted to make Flynn happy, and herself, and sex with him
had ticked both boxes with one overlapping checkmark. Her apartment had sprung a leak—so there was no sense in living like she was in a third-world country when she had Flynn’s penthouse on loan. Plus, who was to say that they couldn’t go back to normal after a sabbatical filled with great sex and plenty of Flynn’s deep chuckles?

  There. Now that she’d justified that, she felt like she could respond.

  “You do have plenty of space.” She shrugged. “I can’t think of any reason to leave.”

  “Good. You should stay. We’ll see if we can one-up last night.” He waggled his eyebrows and a laugh burst from her lips. Who knew the secret to pulling Flynn from his shell was sex? Who knew they’d be so damn good at it?

  His phone vibrated on the table next to him. He broke eye contact for a cursory glance at the screen.

  “That better not be work,” she warned.

  “I don’t work anymore.”

  “Very funny.” She sipped her coffee. “Is there at least part of you that’s enjoying the break? Besides us sharing a bedroom?” she added, figuring he would’ve added it for her.

  “It still chaps my ass that most of Monarch’s grand pooh-bahs would rather send me out the door than come into the twenty-first century with me.”

  “They’re in love with the way things were, which is standard for most old companies. Monarch’s stockholders were nervous when Emmons died and there wasn’t anything you were going to be able to do to prevent that.”

  She’d vowed to table this conversation until after his hiatus but since he’d opened the discussion she no longer saw the point in holding her tongue.

  “You are not your father. The changes you made when you took over were made because you’re different from your father. I didn’t like who you were changing into.” She ignored his pleated brow and continued. “I wanted my Flynn back.”

  He watched her for a long beat. In a way Flynn was never hers, and yet he’d always belonged to her in some fashion. She didn’t have the romantic part of his heart—even now. Her smile came easily when she considered what a relief that was. Flynn’s place was at her side. They could care about each other, blow each other’s minds in bed and escape their entanglement unscathed. She had faith in both of them—and anyway, he’d already promised their friendship wouldn’t change.

  “I deserve that.” His shoulders lifted and dropped in a sigh of surrender. “You’ve always looked out for me, Sabrina. Always.”

  He reached across the table and took her hand, gently holding her fingers, his eyes on his empty plate.

  “I always will be.” Just as she knew he’d be there for her.

  * * *

  Sabrina collected her pajamas and a few more changes of clothing from her apartment. Flynn had invited her to stay and she’d failed at reasoning her way out of it. Not that she should. They had always needed each other and now they needed each other in a different way, a physical way. She was more than happy to reap the rewards for the rest of their sabbatical.

  “Rewards like an insanely hot, wealthy best friend who curls your toes in the evening and makes you laugh in the daytime.”

  Even though she was talking to herself and no one else was there, she hesitated to use the word boyfriend or the phrase “guy she was dating” because that wasn’t who Flynn was. Not really.

  “Then who is he?” she asked herself after collecting her mail. She walked to her bedroom dresser and plucked out a few shirts along with a few pairs of sexy underwear worthy of hot nights in the sack.

  He was...

  “Flynn.”

  That was enough explanation for her.

  She hesitated packing pajamas before tossing a shorts set onto the bed. The oft-ignored top shelf of her closet caught her eye, specifically the spines of her journals. It’d been a long time since she sat and sketched an idea for a painting, or wrote an entry.

  A vision of her in a T-shirt, stroking the brush down the canvas, filled her with purpose, and when Flynn stepped into the picture and swept her hair aside to kiss her neck, a zing of excitement flitted through her.

  She flipped through the journals in search of inspiration, finally settling on the one filled with sketches of birds. If Flynn’s mantel needed anything, it was a breath of life. A bird on a perch watching over his lonely penthouse when she wasn’t there sounded perfect. It made her sad to think of “the end,” but before she could explore that thought further another journal toppled from the uppermost shelf and fell open.

  She bent to retrieve it, smiling at her sloppy college handwriting and doodles in the margins. She’d written about places where she and Flynn—and Gage and Reid—had hung out back in their college years. Chaz’s, which had been their hangout ever since, and the restaurant that served the best burger in town: Fresh Burger. Before veggie burgers were trending, they’d served up a black-bean and poblano pepper masterpiece that the guys sometimes chose over basic beef. She slapped the book shut, pleased with her finding. She had another idea for what she and Flynn could do together.

  “Besides have sex,” she reminded herself. Her mission during this hiatus was to guide Flynn back to his former self.

  She packed the journals with the rest of her clothes into a bag and carried her things to the door. She’d just pulled out her front door key to lock up when a thick Chicago-accented voice behind her nearly scared her out of her skin.

  “Your boyfriend called about the plumbing. You know you can call me and talk to me directly. You don’t have to send in the heavy.” Her landlord had a thick dark mustache, a receding hairline and a particularly unpleasant demeanor.

  “I did call you directly, Simon,” she told him patiently. “You didn’t return my calls. Also, Flynn is my best friend not my boyfriend.”

  He frowned and so did she. Clarifying that for herself was one thing, but there really wasn’t any reason to do it for her landlord.

  “I’m not sure when we’re going to have it fixed.” His dark eyes inventoried her tote bag and her person in a way that made her uncomfortable.

  “Well, you have my number. And Flynn’s. Flynn and I actually are dating, I don’t know why I said we weren’t.”

  Fortunately, Mrs. Abernathy picked that opportune moment to open her front door and save Sabrina from their potentially lecherous landlord.

  “You and Flynn are dating! I am so excited!” Mrs. Abernathy rushed out of her apartment and into the hallway. She was wearing classy appliquéd blue jeans and a floral top. Her jewelry was gold and shiny, and her nails perfectly manicured. “Did the books help? Tell me the books helped. I believe that romance novels are magical. They bring people together.”

  Rightly sensing this wasn’t a topic for him, Simon grumbled something about women that was likely sexist before hustling down the hall to ruin someone else’s day.

  “I enjoyed the books,” Sabrina told Mrs. Abernathy. She didn’t know if they’d helped but they definitely hadn’t hurt.

  “I knew you two would be good together. Every time you insisted that you and Flynn were just friends, I doubted it in my heart of hearts.” She put her hand to the gold chain around her neck, and her fingers closed around the diamond dangling there. “My Reginald, when he was alive, was the most romantic man. Tell me your Flynn is romantic.”

  Sabrina’s cheeks warmed when she thought about what they’d done together last night. Surely there was a PG-rated nugget she could share with her romance-loving neighbor.

  “Well...he woke me up this morning by tickling me with a paintbrush. And he also went out and bought coffee and croissants for breakfast.” She checked the hallway for Simon once more, but he’d already gone. She lowered her voice anyway when she continued. “And he called Simon and demanded he fix my plumbing issue.”

  “That’s very romantic.” Mrs. Abernathy’s smile faded. “Except for the plumbing situation. Is that still going on?” She checked the hallway
, too, before whispering, “I don’t like that man.”

  “I don’t think anyone likes that man.” Sabrina wished her neighbor a good day before turning for the elevator.

  As the doors swished shut, Mrs. Abernathy called, “Are you staying with Flynn, then?”

  In the closing gap between the elevator doors, Sabrina smiled. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

  Fourteen

  Fresh Burger’s salsa fries were a thing of beauty.

  Sabrina pulled out a hand-cut fry dripping in fresh pico de gallo, melty cheese and sour cream and groaned in ecstasy around a bite.

  She swiped a napkin over her mouth. “If I eat another bite, I’ll die.”

  “Back away from the fries, Douglas.”

  Watching her eat was fun. Watching her do anything was fun. Flynn’s brain had been a minefield of what he’d do to her and what he’d like her to do to him the second the sun went down. For that, he needed her not to eat herself into a food coma. He swiped her plate out from in front of her and polished off her fries.

  They left Fresh Burger and stepped into cold, spitting rain that was turning to snow—a typical February day in Seattle. Sabrina wrapped her arms around her middle and huddled closer. He held her against him while their steps lined up on the sidewalk. Nothing out of the usual for them, but now it felt different to have her in the cradle of his arms.

  Protecting her, watching out for her—those ideas were nothing new. But wanting to please her on a carnal, sexual level? Whole new ballgame. Hell, he wasn’t sure it was the same sport.

  He’d had plenty of girlfriends and one wife, so he knew how relationships went. This one wasn’t like those. It was a mashup of his favorite things: a best friend who was on his side plus an exciting new experience between the sheets. The difference in this relationship was that he wasn’t trying to get to know Sabrina. He knew Sabrina.

  He knew she loved peanut butter and hated olives. He knew she’d fallen off the stage in an eighth grade play and earned the nickname “Crash.” He knew that as cool as she’d played it, Craig had broken her heart and she’d spent months wondering if she’d ever recover.