Happily Ever Afters: A BWWM Best Friends to Lovers Romance

by Mila Nicks

  His heart clenched and he couldn’t breathe. She had quite literally taken his breath away.

  “I can’t wait ’til we're alone,” she whispered for his ears only. Her lips grazed the fleshy shell as a tease. His imagination ran wild and his dick twitched as if by demand. He wanted her in more ways than his brain could compute.

  To drive the point home, Juliette surprised him with another side of her. Thankfully Jerry busied himself with the boat’s functions. She reclined back against the cushions so that she sat with her legs stretched across. Armed with the most dangerous smirk on her full mouth, like a sexy siren hell bent on destroying his life, her hand traveled low, coyly past her stomach. His heartbeat pounded, blood rushing in instant arousal, and his gaze followed, locked into a trance as she descended lower and lower. Her fingers stopped and then, slowly, she peeled the fabric of her romper aside for the quickest, most unexpected peepshow.

  No panties.

  Preston choked on air, coughing uncontrollably. He’d now die a happy man, blessed with the tiniest sneak-peek of her. Truthfully it only whetted his appetite for more, hard yet again from her mere existence around him.

  He had never expected that out of Juliette.

  Yes, he’d thought about it. Another guilty secret of his.

  He always figured, as by-the-book as she was as A.D.A., she was a cotton panty type of woman. Not that there was anything wrong with that. Quite the contrary, as he’d derived great pleasure from the imagery, pondering cut, color and many other tantalizing details.

  But to know she forewent…? At least sometimes?

  Preston struggled to breathe, wondering how often was this sometimes. To think a flimsy strip of fabric separated him from her all along…

  “You okay down there, Preston?” Jerry called, distracted by righting the sails.

  Juliette held herself in total composure, sitting calmly like nothing happened. She sipped her champagne, but if he looked closely, the scantest little smirk remained. She knew exactly what she was doing teasing him like this—driving him wild in a setting he could do nothing about it.

  It became clearer than ever he was playing checkers. She was playing chess.

  Preston drained the last of his glass, gaze intensely on her, vowing to even the score first chance he got. Somehow.

  Their boat tour with Jerry ended after the golden hues of sunset. Now engulfed in the purplish shades of civil twilight, they rushed the shoreline in a frolicking kind of happiness. Juliette dashed across the rippling baby waves for the sand. Preston chased after her, hooking his arms about her waist to slow her down. Their laughter played as a constant. Sometimes they paused along the way to kiss and linger in each other’s arms.

  Towering in the far background was the Brosman beach house. Every light was on in the home. The others must’ve been engaged in another nightly round of celebrations. Juliette fleetingly thought about them. She scribbled a mental note to check up on Dad and to chat with Gigi for an update on her pregnancy before bed. But the electricity sparking between her and Preston was too super charged to ignore.

  She allowed herself a moment of selfishness, arms wrapped around his neck, craning to kiss him for the umpteenth time that day. The passion was so thick she couldn’t function without release. The lusty urge controlled her, stronger than her willpower, and that was a feat on its own. Breathless from how Preston made her heart pitter-patter, she pulled away and glanced around them.

  The beach wasn’t empty. Every ten to twenty feet other vacationers lounged in couples or threes and fours. Some had brought folding chairs to sit around the tiki torches or built bonfires of their own. Up at the house, surely they’d be bombarded with family and friends. Gone for the day, the others would expect them to sit around and chat for a couple hours.

  Juliette needed a solution now.

  Her brown eyes lit up. She slid her hand in Preston's and started off in a sprint across the grainy sands. He followed, keeping up with her despite his tangible confusion. After a couple strides across the small hills, her destination became obvious. Preston's laugh was throaty, almost as if he couldn’t believe her daring. She pulled on him harder, right up until the tiki hut door.

  The bar was closed, its service window drawn. Her hand wrapped around the knob and Preston held onto her waist. The two checked left and right and then slipped inside unnoticed. The small hut was dark, its back wall lined with shelves that once stocked bottles of liquor. The tiny space was still enough for them as their mouths found each others amongst the shadows.

  Preston brought Juliette up against the left wall. Their kisses were impatient, desperate to parch the thirst on their tongues, begging for more. He couldn’t keep his hands off of her. Back to the wall, his hands fondled her breasts in a bold squeeze. His large palms felt unimaginably good cupping them, holding their soft weight and then following up with massages. Her ears echoed with frenzied throbbing from below. The ever-increasing clenches from her core beat at an out-of-control rhythm. Slick and wet and already ready for him, she wanted him then and there.

  As a skilled lawyer, Juliette was more often than not a woman who voiced her expectations. She laid it out for him in layman’s terms.

  “Preston, I need you to fuck me.”

  He groaned, going wild, kissing her all over her throat. “Yeah? Is that what you want?”

  “Mmmm, yes. Right now. Right…here…” She trembled as he sucked on her skin at the same time his hand tugged down her romper and her fleshy pert breast fell into his hand. He started rubbing his thumb across her nipple and she was a goner.

  She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t take another second.

  Juliette took over, shoving her off-the-shoulder romper to the ground. The white fabric pooled at her ankles and she kicked it away. She stood in nothing but her beautiful dark flesh. Preston paused for a long, reverent second to drink in the sight of her. He had never looked this way in the years she had known him—pupils dilated, pink lips swollen, a hardness to his features as he devoted his attention on her. He wanted her badly.

  It was intense.

  She shuddered knowing she was who brought him there. They promptly worked on freeing him. Together they yanked and pulled off his clothes ’til he was as bare. The clean, sculpted lines of his lean body was enough pleasurable mental imagery for alone bath time, but down below? His erect member, tall and thick and its tip glistening, was as appetizing as she had envisioned it to be.

  Preston hiked her up off her feet and her legs sought his waist. He pushed his way into her, the immediate sensations drowning them. Neither thought about what they were doing or what would come after. Any vague thoughts like that fell into oblivion as Preston sheathed himself inside her slick heat.

  “Juliette,” he choked her name in a husky groan. The single word speech was all he was capable of, kneaded by her tight clench.

  She kissed him her answer. Her mouth slanted to his, fingers curled in his hair. The message was loud and clear: make love to me here and now.

  Preston listened. He thrust like a madman, sinking further into her. Eyes widening, mouth falling open in shocked arousal, she cried out her pleasure. The only thing she could do was hold on for dear life, gripping the back of his neck, legs banded around his waist. She took his inches. Her back slid against the wall with his thrusts, deliciously deep.

  The naughtiness of their escapade fueled the orgasm building. After a day spent in affectionate teases, the secret little interlude intensified how good it felt to have Preston buried inside of her.

  He hit all the right spots. The ones that kept her paralyzed against that wall, pretzeled in his arms. Her toes flexed and she rested her head on his shoulder. There she tasted his salty skin, mouth biting him to keep from screaming outright. Around them, the tiki hut walls shook. It felt like the whole world rocked with them.

  Juliette crashed harder than the waves against the shoreline. Her teeth dug deeper into Preston's skin, muffling her orgasmic cry. He held onto her tig
hter, pinning her to the wall for his hardest, most frantic and desperate thrusts yet. No longer able to bear another second, he grunted his final thrust, at the hilt as he poured himself inside her.

  In the dizzy, faint recesses of her mind, it occurred to her they hadn’t talked about contraception or their sex lives as a couple at all. Their lusty urges had overpowered them however irresponsible. Normally she wouldn’t have lost her head in such a way—even with Winston, together for as long as they had been, she had always been meticulous—demanding they double up on protection with condoms and that they got tested regularly. But it wasn’t any other man she was with, it was Preston.

  She still fully believed in her usual precautions, but just this once, she gave herself a pass. Besides, her birth control had never failed her before.

  The couple found their clothes on the tiki hut floor and dressed. She found his shorts and he slipped on her sandals. They shared naughty smirks, eyes bright with the possibilities for the night.

  “We should head back,” Preston suggested finally. “Before anybody sends a search party for us.”

  Juliette giggled. “Good idea. Get cleaned up—and get ready for round two.”

  “That king-sized bed? Has our name written all over it.”

  “Maybe we can sneak in unnoticed. Or say one of us feels unwell so we’re going to bed early.”

  Preston grabbed her hand. “C’mon.”

  Across the white sands they raced. The night felt young. The clock hadn’t yet reached nine P.M. Their blissful day spent together would become an even more blissful night spent together. The mere thought of Preston making love to her in their bed, tangled in the luxury sheets and listening to their pants against the ocean waves, sounded like a dream come true. If that was how they spent the rest of their vacation days on Paradise Key, she’d go home the happiest woman on earth.

  The Brosman beach house enlarged into view the closer they got. The lights from its many windows comforted. It might’ve been temporary, but they were home at last after a long day in the sun. They slowed up, still holding hands, and crossed the terrace. It was then Juliette's heart soared with even more glee.

  Mom and Dad stood outside. Her cheeks rounded and she smiled in greeting at them. Her smile was short-lived. Quickly it fell off her face as she picked up on their uncharacteristic stoicism. Their features were flat and eyes dark and judging. Dad folded his arms and cast a scrutinizing glare much like the one he had the day he met Preston. But this time he wasn’t acting. He was serious.

  “What’s wrong?” Juliette asked, lost as to the serious tone. She and Preston stopped.

  “We’re hoping you can make sense of your lies. Care to explain?” Mom asked back. Her voice wavered with offense.

  “Mom, Dad…I don’t know what you’re—”

  “Winston!”

  The glass doors leading into the house opened and Juliette's stomach plunged to new lows. Out walked none other than Winston, smirking arrogantly, like a nightmare living and breathing in the flesh.

  12

  Only one question did the situation justice. Juliette blinked and asked, “Winston, what are you doing here?!”

  “I’m here for you, Juliette. Why else would I travel hundreds of miles?”

  Mom pressed a hand to her forehead, looking faint. “So…are you Juliette's real fiancé?”

  “Yes.”

  “No! Not…anymore. It’s…It’s a long story.”

  “You think you can stroll in like nothing?” Preston growled at Winston, unable to hold back. “Is there any line your opportunistic ass won’t cross, Carter?”

  “Then who is this? You said this was Preston ‘Winston’ Brooker,” Dad demanded. He rounded on Preston. “Who are you?!”

  “Dad, this is Preston!”

  “And that’s Winston! You have two fiancés now? Is my daughter into polygamy?”

  “This is too much,” Mom murmured weakly. “I need to sit.”

  “Mr. Lowry, I’m the real Winston.”

  “Everyone shut up!” Juliette yelled at the top of her lungs. The four dueling voices fell silent. “Speaking over each other isn’t going to solve anything!”

  “What in tarnation is going on out here?”

  The terrace doors opened and out spilled Mr. and Mrs. Brosman. Peeking nosily behind them was the rest of the wedding party. Gigi rose on tippy toe for a look at the commotion while the house staff like Natasia and Trey watched as distant spectators. Juliette itched with embarrassment for the scene caused, inhaling a breath to regroup.

  “Mom, Dad. I need a moment alone with Preston and Winston.”

  “Oh my, it is polygamy.” Mom uttered the word as if it were dirty.

  Dad threw his arm around her and steered her toward the doors. The others reluctantly retreated too. Juliette could see the question forming on Gigi’s face. Her little sister silently asked if she were okay. She gave her a nod and then focused on the horror at hand.

  Now the three of them, Juliette unleashed on Winston.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?”

  “Juliette—”

  “You know what, Winston? Don’t answer that. I know what you’re doing here.”

  “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

  “You’re here to do what you always do. Ruining shit once I’ve finally started to move on without you!”

  “That day you walked into my office led me to realize how wrong I had been.”

  “It’s over between us! There’s nothing left to say. Now get out of my face. I can’t believe you’d do this to me.”

  “I still love you.”

  Juliette's face fell into her hands. Her frustration reached a level that required constant draws for breath. Hers had gone shallow and it wasn’t enough.

  “I do,” Winston continued. “Think about everything we had. The dinners at candlelit Vernelli’s. The vacation to Bora Bora. We had started planning our wedding, for Christ’s sake! You don’t throw that away over nothing.”

  “She wants you gone,” Preston gritted out, eyes cold. “So get gone. And if you don’t, I have no problem making you myself.”

  Winston laughed haughtily. “Is this what’s going on? It all makes sense. Brooker has been sniffing around you for years like a dog just waiting to mark his new territory. Please don’t tell me you’re falling for this, Juliette.”

  “You know what, I’m done talking. Time to make you—”

  “Stop!” Juliette threw herself between the men as Preston stepped forward. “No fighting. Not a day before Gigi’s wedding. This is enough of a shit show.”

  Preston continued to glare beyond her, directly at Winston. Meanwhile Winston wore smugness like a second skin, goading the detective. The men’s animosity had brewed for years, but on that terrace, it finally reached a head.

  Juliette grabbed Preston by the arm and pulled him away with her for a side conversation. She wanted to calm him down before dealing with Winston herself.

  “I know you want to defend me,” she said softly, out of Winston's earshot. “But I’ll handle him. If you fight Winston, it’s only going to make you look like a troublemaker too. I don’t care what everyone thinks about him. I care about you too much to let you get maligned like that. Okay?”

  “I’ll wait inside then.” Preston's jaw tightened and he didn’t respond to her squeezing his hand. He strode for the glass doors without another look at either of them.

  Worry pooled in her stomach like a muddy puddle on a rainy day. She knew that reaction. He was frustrated and pissed off. In those moments he tended to go off and sulk as a loner. She wanted desperately to follow him, but first…

  The first footstep Preston set inside the Brosman beach house evoked silence in the rest of the room. The others stopped talking and turned to watch him. He ignored their curious stares like he did anywhere else he was the outcast. Hard to believe mere hours ago he had begun to feel as if he fit in with these people. Now he couldn’t feel more alie
nated.

  “Hey, Preston,” someone called—Gigi it sounded like—but he ignored her.

  He wanted a moment alone. He needed the time to recharge. Others didn’t understand. The wedding week was always a lot to absorb. He knew that going in. He volunteered anyway to help Juliette. He fought his lone wolf habits and opened himself up to the overwhelming situation. If it made Juliette happy that was all that mattered.

  Now he wasn’t so sure. He found solitude in the sunroom, pacing wall-to-wall. Juliette wanted him. She had feelings for him. Minutes ago, they’d made love, so enveloped in each other it was like being on top of the world. That was real. So why did it feel as if Winston's sudden reappearance was such a threat?

  Probably because he was a manipulative son of a bitch. He weaseled his way back into Juliette's good graces time and time again. Preston had seen it firsthand from the sidelines. Unable to do much as just a friend, he kept his agitation to himself. She knew he wasn’t a fan, but he held back on offering too much of his opinion on the asshole out of respect for her.

  As her boyfriend though, standing by was torture. Walking back-and-forth in that sunroom with the knowledge that she was outside with him. He pinched the bridge of his nose and told himself to stop being stupid. Juliette was getting rid of him. She wasn’t going to be manipulated again. She and Winston were done. But what if…?

  Preston rumbled out a coarse sound midway between a grunt and a sigh and then strode up to the window. The sunroom looked out over sand dunes that even in the deep night looked white as snow. The sight held his attention for a few seconds in grateful distraction.

  “Alone. It’s when you feel most comfortable.”

  Preston hung his head back and closed his eyes. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. She was the last person he wanted to see…

  “Leave me alone,” he warned.