Friend (With Benefits) Zone

by Laura Brown

  Then reality hit, and I sat straight up, knocking him back a step. “What are you doing here?”

  His face lit up. “Blake took over my work. You ready?”

  The words took a moment to sink in. I looked down at the old tee shirt and tattered jeans I wore. “You’re joking, right? I’m not dressed for a date.”

  He took me in from head to toe, a slow glide that touched me without contact. “You always look beautiful.”

  I stared. My heart swelled. I hadn’t seen those words since Dad died. Emotion clogged my throat, and I did my best to ignore it. “Where are we going?”

  “Out. Dinner.”

  Helpful. “Fancy. Casual. What?”

  He narrowed his eyes and leaned over me. “What do you want?”

  I bit my lip. Him, for starters. But I knew that wasn’t the question. And a small dose of shock bubbled up; there was something he didn’t know about me. “I like to dress up.” Not that I had many fancy clothes, since I basically lived at the bar. But getting dressed up was fun, especially for a date.

  “Then dress up. I’ll leave. But first—” He wrapped a hand around my neck and pulled me in for a quick kiss. Just as I fell into the swelling heat, he backed up and left.

  I stayed where I was, a bit dazed from the conversation and his mouth. Then I picked up my phone.

  Me: You do know that I’m a woman and take forever.

  Dev: Good thing my backpack’s out here. I’ll get work done. Take your time.

  Was he for real? Even Dad used to get upset at how long it took Mom to get ready for a night out.

  Me: Are you really this guy?

  Dev: Get ready and find out.

  That sent a little thrill through me. My nerves vanished. It was time to get to know my friend in this new light.

  I opened up his closet and thumbed through my meager belongings until I came to the dress Nikki had insisted I buy. Girl was right. I’d need to pair it with a sweater and my boots, but it wasn’t black, it wasn’t old, and—bonus—Dev had never seen me in it. The tight red material hugged my curves and grazed my knees. I wondered if he’d touch me in this dress, if I’d feel his heat through the fabric. The last thread of nerves was replaced with hope. I took my hands off my hips and shook my head. No more delaying. I slipped across the hall to the bathroom to fix my hair and makeup.

  My reflection held confidence, and I hoped it would knock Dev’s socks off. Then I remembered the tee shirt he was wearing. I sneaked back into his room and went through his clothes, pulling out a navy button-down and pair of beige jeans. Not his usual first-date material, but that’s what he got for dating his best friend.

  In the living room, I found him bent over a textbook. I stood and waited, wondering if he’d shave first and almost hoping he didn’t. The light stubble brought out his blue eyes and looked sexy as hell on him.

  Those eyes glanced up, slowly climbing up my body, all but touching my skin. “Wow.”

  “You have to change too.”

  Dev’s eyebrows furrowed, but he looked down at his shirt and nodded. “I’m gonna grab a quick shower too, spent my morning moving boxes.” I didn’t stop him as he headed to his room. I could have warned him about the clothes, but he’d figure it out soon enough.

  I thumbed through my phone as I waited, and less than ten minutes later, he walked back out in the clothes I had picked. His hair was wet, he hadn’t shaved, and he looked like a movie-star hunk. I wasn’t used to seeing him somewhat dressed up—it stole my breath.

  He held out his hands, looking down at himself. “You don’t trust me to pick out my own clothes.”

  Shit. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  He cut me off with a kiss. I grabbed onto his shoulders, unable to stop the fall into him.

  “You can pick out my clothes, if you want to play mother. But I’m capable.” It was hard to take him seriously with my red lipstick smeared across his lips.

  I wiped part off. “Next time, prove it. Now, clean off your lips.”

  He sent me a wicked grin and meshed our lips together again. Goodness, we were never getting out of here. Not with those lips, not with his hands on my hips. Not with the feeling of him.

  Dev pulled back. “Come on. We’ll clean up, then I owe you a dinner.”

  A thrill traveled down my spine. Yes. He did.

  DEV TOOK ME to a steak house. Nothing too fancy, but certainly not my usual fare. I’d never been to a place like this.

  I stepped out of the car into the night air. It ruffled my curls and threatened to freeze my limbs, since I left my trench at the apartment. Dev came around to my side of the car as I wrapped my arms around myself. “I would have gotten the door for you.”

  I looked back at his car. “Why? You never have.”

  He stepped into my space, blocking the wind and sharing his body heat. “Tonight, you’re my date. That’s why.” With an arm around my shoulders, he held me close as we made our way inside. I shook off the chill as the warmth of the establishment hit me. A bit of a rustic feel, lots of exposed wood and dark colors.

  When I stopped checking out the decor, I noticed Dev already communicating with the hostess. He held up two fingers and tugged me to him, but the woman’s mouth continued moving.

  “Can you hear her?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “No, there’s a lot of background noise.”

  I turned back to the hostess, flashed her a smile, and held up two fingers. Her eyes darted between us, no doubt catching us signing and answering a few of her questions. She checked her listing of tables, shot us a worried glance, and opened her mouth before closing it. Even I knew she wasn’t speaking.

  Dev made a motion for writing, and the hostess nearly whacked herself in the forehead. She grabbed some paper and scribbled a note: It will be five to ten minutes.

  I held up a thumb, and Dev pulled me over to the crowded bar. He took in the long dark grain counter, eyes flicking from bottles to cups to me.

  “What?” I smoothed down my dress—was it bunched up somewhere?

  “I can’t see you in a bar like this.”

  I studied the area and the prim and proper bartender. “Too small. Too food related. People don’t come here to get drunk.”

  “You like the drunks.”

  “I like the true bar vibe.”

  He picked up a bar menu and flipped through. “How does a bartender not drink?”

  I rolled my eyes. “A sober one.”

  He put the menu down. “You’re really that worried?”

  I took in all the alcohol bottles lined up against a mirrored wall. Dull colors all but glittering in the lighting, an artistic array of temptation and addiction. “Yes and no. I want alcohol to be my business, not my pleasure.”

  “What about tonight?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “No pleasure when you’re not at work?”

  “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

  He played with the end of one clump of curls. “Maybe I want you to have a good time.” His eyes didn’t meet mine.

  “One, I can have a good time without alcohol. Two, I won’t have a good time with you?”

  He raised his baby blues to mine, a vulnerability shining through. I wanted to call him on it, to point out we were still who we were, but the hostess flagged us down. We followed her past filled tables to a small booth in the corner. She handed us our menus, opened her mouth to say something, then promptly left.

  Dev picked up his menu, only to press it down to the table, knuckles white as he gripped the edges.

  “Can we agree not to be all weird about this?” I asked, ignoring my menu completely.

  He leaned forward. “This isn’t weird?”

  I took a deep breath, trying to find my own sense of calm. Dev’s gaze dipped down to my chest, and damned if I didn’t arch my back to give him a little more to look at. “Yes. It’s weird. But we’re still us, right? Because if this change is going to kill us, then you can take me home right
now and we’ll forget we like kissing each other.”

  “You signed home.”

  I fell back against the seat cushion. I had.

  The waitress showed up, and once she figured out we were deaf, she knelt by the side of the table and wrote back and forth. We ordered our drinks—nonalcoholic—and promised to check the menu.

  We had other things more important to discuss than the menu.

  Dev rubbed the back of his neck. “I want this; I’ve made that clear. But don’t we need time to see each other differently?”

  I always was good at sniffing out the flaws in his logic. “So you having feelings for me is new?”

  He narrowed his eyes to slits, and I couldn’t help laughing. Patrons at other tables glanced our way, but who knew if I was too loud or if it was just the novelty of two people signing. Story of my life, so I paid it no mind.

  “You know it’s not new.”

  “So why do we need time to see each other differently?”

  He rested his elbows on the table. “And you haven’t been pretending you don’t have feelings for me?”

  A direct hit. “How long do you think this has been simmering?”

  He didn’t break eye contact, barely blinked. “A long time.”

  With a nod, I broke the contact and turned my attention to the menu. Food was a safer topic.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Devon

  “REMEMBER, NO BREAD,” Jas signed as the bread basket hit our table. She hooked a finger in the wicker, dragged it closer to her, and sniffed. “That smells delicious.”

  “If I can’t have any bread, what about you?”

  “I haven’t kept Passover in almost ten years. This year is no different. You bought the matzo.” She pulled apart a piece, steam rising from the soft filling. A healthy dose of butter later, and her eyes closed as she chewed. “Heaven. You are missing out.”

  Since I watched her eat, I missed out on nothing. “Not from my perspective.” I nudged the basket closer to her.

  Jas laughed as she chewed. “You sure you haven’t cheated yet?”

  Almost. “Not yet.”

  “You still have the rest of the week to go.”

  “I don’t back down from challenges easily.”

  Her eyes lit with an invitation. One I wanted. I leaned forward, rising off the seat, aiming for those luscious lips. She held out a hand and stopped me. “No stealing bread from my mouth.”

  I plopped back onto the seat. “Seriously?”

  Jas nodded. “I’m not keeping Passover, so I’m not kosher.”

  This was a whole new level I hadn’t anticipated. “So I can’t lick you?” My signs made it clear which part of her anatomy I referred to.

  A strong pink color rose to Jas’s cheeks. “Not today. Good thing I don’t have sex on a first date.”

  I dropped my head and tried not to laugh. Once upon a time, I made sure Jas was this way, wanted her to get to know a guy before she slept with them. Now that I was that guy, I wanted to strangle myself. Even if it was right for us, we couldn’t rush into anything.

  “I’m still kissing you.”

  “When there’s no bread in my mouth, sure.”

  I leaned back, relaxing into the cushion. “Ever have a first date like this?” Because I sure as hell hadn’t.

  Jas pulled off a small piece of bread and slowly closed her lips around it. Screw the bread, my dick was jealous. “Never. It’s usually small talk, figuring out who the other is, even if you know them a bit.”

  I ticked through some usual first-date conversation fodder but couldn’t come up with any questions I couldn’t answer for her. “The weather, we can always talk about the weather.”

  “True. It’s cold. Next topic?”

  I placed my elbows on the table. “I can make it warmer.”

  “And now we’re back to sex. Is that really the only area not explored?”

  I dropped my gaze down to the two mouthwatering breasts molded by her dress. She waved and forced my eyes back on hers. “I’ve known you since before you’ve had those. Yes.”

  She shook her head. “Dirty mind.”

  “See, something new to learn.”

  I HAD THOUGHT it torturous to watch Jas eat bread, but that was nothing compared to when she closed those lips around a spoonful of chocolate cake. A very X-rated vision created in front of me, my mind and dick agreed: we wanted her lips on us. Sucking. Swallowing. My water glass was empty, so I chewed on a piece of ice that did nothing to cool me down. I almost dropped a cube into my pants, but Jas sent me a mischievous look.

  She was baiting me.

  I couldn’t eat the cake—or her—but I did feed her the rest. Sure, I was hard as a rock in my pants; I knew I wasn’t getting any that night. But it was worth the pink I saw tinting her cheeks. Wherever the night headed, we’d continue tempting each other.

  On our way back to my car, I wanted to walk slow, enjoy the crisp night air. Cool the fuck down. But Jas shivered. I huddled her next to me, sharing my warmth—I had too much anyways—as I hurried her inside and cranked the heat.

  “You need a warmer jacket.”

  “I’ll wear my dad’s coat anyways.”

  I gripped the steering wheel. I didn’t want to go home. Sure, we’d still be together, and we could watch a movie or play some games. Dinner wasn’t enough; she deserved more. An idea popped into my mind. I eyed Jas. It could work.

  I drove onto the highway, heading in the opposite direction of home. It took Jas two minutes to figure out things weren’t right. She flipped on the car light so we could communicate. “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  I glanced in her direction to find her head against the seat, a warm smile on her face. “This could be very bad for you.”

  “I like risks.”

  Her cheeks curved along with her lips, and I tore my gaze back to the road—otherwise I’d get us into an accident. Not my idea of a fun night.

  Twenty minutes later, I pulled into a parking lot. We had a bit of a walk, the only downside. “You won’t freeze in two blocks, will you?”

  Jas studied the area, recognition crossing her face. “It doesn’t matter, I’ll be sweating soon. You brought me to a club?”

  I took my keys out of the ignition. “Yes.”

  “I haven’t danced since our senior prom.”

  “Which we went to together. We’re too slow.”

  She laughed and clasped my cheeks, bringing our faces close together. And it occurred to me that at our prom, this was all I had wanted to do. She brushed her lips against mine, somehow managing sweet and sexy as hell all at once.

  “Should we have kissed back then?” I asked.

  “Probably.” Then she got out of the car.

  I held her close to my side for warmth as we headed to our destination. I tried to move fast, but she slowed us down, leaning into me.

  Once in the club, Jas took a moment, surveying the area. Music swelled, something connecting uncomfortably with my hearing aids. I flipped them off. Beats and sensations outdid any sound, a thrill vibrating through my veins.

  She nodded to the beat, her whole face alive and happy. It killed me that I hadn’t seen the need for this type of night for her. That it had taken until now to get this expression on her face. I had to do better. And I would.

  We skipped drinks and headed to the dance floor. I pulled Jas to me, finding the beat as she wrapped her arms around my neck and placed her head on my shoulder. The song was much faster than we were, but I didn’t give a damn. I had her in my arms, her body against me. Nothing else mattered.

  Her hips swayed, bumping against mine. Everything about this held some normalcy, except in the past we’d managed to keep some air between us. Not this time. Things wouldn’t go much further, not tonight. Probably not tomorrow night either. That didn’t stop our bodies from knowing each other. I gripped her hips, shifted her closer. Her chest rose and fell in choppy spurts. If I didn’t keep my head on straigh
t, I’d throw the whole “first date” thing out the window.

  Jas pulled back, enough so we could sign. She studied those around us. “Are they really able to communicate?”

  The people around us mostly danced without attempting to talk, focusing on body language over spoken language. A few were angled to each other’s ears and probably still had to yell to be heard. I shrugged. “Maybe, not as easily as we can.”

  “Deaf people can dance and communicate, shock!”

  I grabbed her hips and connected us again, claiming her mouth with my own. She settled against me, opened for me, and I plumb forgot which beat was the music and which was my pulse. I licked into her mouth, stroking her tongue, all my senses on high alert. She turned me on in every which way, and with our bodies pressed together, she knew it. Then again, I had a good guess that her nipples weren’t pointy due to coldness.

  Someone bumped into me, either on purpose or by accident, and we broke apart. For a few beats we stood there, breathing heavily, watching each other. “Not so weird anymore, is it?” I asked.

  Jas shook her head. “No.” She stepped back into me, wrapped her arms around me, and continued swaying to the music. I tapped her shoulder, and she pulled back.

  “Is this a good first date?”

  She brushed my hair off my sweaty forehead. “The best.”

  I LOST TRACK of time on the dance floor, too caught up in the feel of Jas against me. The lack of space between us, the new closeness that came with touching each other just about everywhere. No lines were truly crossed, just body plastered against body. Dancing allowed us to press the limits, shift our relationship little by little until I felt ready to burst if I didn’t have her.

  I tried to cool off on the car ride home. But she was there, right there. Bare knees peeking out from the hem of her dress. And she was mine. Despite our discussion about taking it slow and not having sex, we ended up plastered to each other the minute I closed my apartment door. I didn’t know who made the first move, just that Jas’s back was against the door, her leg around my hip, and one of my hands in her hair, the other on her ass.

  Everything burned and flamed to life. She arched into me, all those curves making it so I damn well didn’t care about breathing. I started to fall down the hole, into the dark excitement of lust. With one last shred of sanity hanging on, I grabbed it and pulled back.