Rules of Friendship: Friends-to-Lovers Standalone Romance Novel

by C. A. Harms

  Sitting on the lounger near the pool at our apartment, I watch as Dawson sits on the edge of the pool, his feet dangling in the water below, while my father’s laughter fills my ear.

  “I think I’ve gotten a new kind of ornery streak. A love for tormenting if you will.” His deep chuckle rings out, and suddenly I feel like I’m time-warped back to the days I would see him sitting at my mother's side, his head tilted back in laughter as his chest shook from its impact. “Uncle Wayne sure does get worked up though. But who wouldn’t when they put change in their pockets only to have it fall out the bottom of your pant leg and spill to the floor.”

  “You didn’t.” I find myself laughing as I picture my six foot two, burly and broad uncle looking down at his feet wondering for a split second if he actually missed his pocket.

  “Oh, I did,” he confirms and I picture his smile, “cut the bottoms off each one of his pockets and hung them back up. But it my defense he started it. He stitched shut the arms of my favorite jacket. Do you know how long it took me to pull those threads out one by one?”

  “You do know they have a tool for that.” Dawson looks back at me with an arched brow. “It’s called a seam ripper.”

  “A fork was available."

  “You used a fork?” I shake my head, my cheeks beginning to ache from the smile plastered on my face for the last five minutes.

  These conversations are so much easier to have, and I find myself looking forward to my weekly calls to my dad now. They are no longer filled with empty words and long silences. Though I know my dad greatly misses my mother, it feels good to have even a small sliver of the man he once was back.

  “How’s Dawson feeling?”

  I look up to see Dawson walking toward me. I can’t actually see his eyes hidden beneath the aviators he wears, but I know they are glued to me.

  “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Before my dad has the chance to reject, I hold the phone out toward the shirtless man before me, feeling a rush of excitement when his lips lift upward to form that sexy smile of his.

  “Mr. Winters,” Dawson says in greeting just before he chuckles. “Kurt.” I know my father has given him shit about calling him Mr. “I’m feeling better, thanks.”

  There is a pause as Dawson nudges my leg out of the way so he can sit on the lounger. Picking up the same leg he just moved away, he places it into his lap. Now sitting between my legs, his free hand casually runs over the length of my calf.

  “I’ve got another week with the cast.” Dawson tilts his head downward, his tongue lightly skimming over his lower lip as if deep in thought. The smoldering gleam in his eyes remains hidden, but I know his naughty look is reserved just for mere.

  Chills break out over my legs, and he grins as he looks over in my direction.

  “I’d like that,” Dawson says to my father, yet he still remains fixed on me. One day he’ll realize that it is impossible to hide his thoughts from me. I know him too well from years of watching him when he wasn’t looking. That did not sound stalkerish at all. His mannerisms are so easy to detect. “We can make a weekend of it.”

  Now I am curious as to what it was they are planning, and the thought alone makes me unbelievably happy.

  “You got it, Sir,” he says while chuckling again. “Okay. Sorry. Kurt. I promise to make her smile as many times as possible each day.” They are talking about me and I can’t help but glow inside from the joy of it.

  Dawson nods, his lips pressing into a tight line as he shifts his head in the opposite direction. His movement alone gives me all I need to know—my father is reminiscing about a memory of my mother.

  “You’re right. Life is too short.” Dawson clears his throat, “Reese means the world to me,” he affirms and looks back in my direction, his hand resting on my thigh. “It took too long for me realize the love I felt for her was more than just friendship. I can promise you that I’ll never again let a minute pass where she doesn’t know just how much she means to me.”

  I feel my eyes burn from the tears that have started to pool. Closing them tightly, I take a deep breath and feel something warm spark against my lips. Opening my eyes once more, I’m just in time to see Dawson as he pulls back from the tender kiss he’d just given me.

  “You take care, sir,” he says before ending the call and lowering my phone on the chair beside me.

  “What did he say?”

  “Told me that he’d give anything to have your mother back for even a second if it meant he’d be given a chance to see her smile one last time.” Dawson grabs his glasses and lifts them off his face, bringing them to rest on the top of his head so he can look into my eyes. “He asked me to promise that I’d never let a day go by without making you smile and ensuring that you know just how amazing you are.”

  I close my eyes another time, letting my emotions consume me.

  “That is a promise I can make without hesitation.” His lips find mine again. Before he can pull away, I grab the back of his neck, taking away his chance. Laying back in the lounger, I yank his body down to mine, and he obliges without hesitation.

  “I love you,” I whisper against his lips, “more and more every day.”

  “Ugh .” A shadow casts over us, and I peek out from beneath Dawson to find Heather standing over us. “You two are so cute that it’s nauseating.”

  “Can you go away and come back in about twenty minutes?” I push against Dawson’s chest, and he chuckles. “What?”

  “Is that all it takes?” Heather challenges him, and I can see the gleam in his eyes.

  “No, but in twenty minutes I’ll have her upstairs, locked away in the bedroom and you’ll be forced to either wait outside our front door or come back after we’re done.”

  “Oh please! She would so choose me over you . Chicks before dicks, you know.” Heather smiles and flops down on the lounger next to mine, stretching out her legs. She then nudges her sunglasses out of the way and peeks over them.

  Dawson and I lock eyes, and then he shifts his gaze to Heather. “I won’t force her to prove you wrong.” Just then his phone rings, and I watch as his muscles flex while he shifts around to gather his phone from his pocket. Heather still rambles on, but all I focus on is him. Things feel so different this time. After coming to an understanding, we are closer now. I guess the threat of losing someone you can’t imagine your life without can do that to a person.

  He pauses, phone in his hand as he stares down at the screen, and I suddenly feel anxious. His gaze lifts to meet mine, and I swear my stomach does a complete one-eighty inside me.

  “Hello Renee,” Dawson says as he holds the phone to his ear, never taking his eyes off mine. Reaching out, he links his fingers with mine, needing that connection between us. I remain perfectly still on the outside. Inside, I am a raging ball of irritation, jealousy and so much more.

  Heather doesn’t help matters when she mumbles the word bitch at my side. If Dawson heard her, he doesn’t react.

  “That's good.” With each word he speaks, he keeps his eyes focused on me. I pretend to be unaffected by his ex-girlfriend on the other line, despite the fact that she is struggling with an addiction, but still manage to feel inferior. I have no doubt in my mind that Dawson loves me. He struggled when we were apart and I witnessed the hollow look in his eyes each time our gazes connected, but I can’t shake the need to have him all to myself. A feeling of possession consumes me. I don’t want to share him, not even a little bit. “I’m not sure I can.”

  My heart rate spikes.

  “I’ll talk to Reese and let you know on Friday.” I look away because his deep penetrating stare becomes too intense for me. Shifting my gaze to Heather, she narrows her eyes at me, and I ignore her unspoken question. Why I suddenly feel like I am so tiny and forgettable infuriates me.

  Dawson cups my cheek with his palm, and without a second thought, I lean into his touch. His thumb gently skims over my lips. I hate that this simple touch brings tears to my eyes. I hate feeling weak when I
should feel secure from Dawson’s love.

  The smallest fraction of pressure applied just beneath my chin triggers me to look up just in time to get a soft kiss from Dawson. It’s as if he senses that my insecurities are getting the best of me. I force a smile, but it only triggers that frown line between his brows to become even more noticeable.

  “I’m glad things are going well for you,” he speaks again, but all he seems to see is me. That should make me feel better. Yet all I focus on is that she has a piece of his attention I selfishly don’t want her to have. It’s incredibly childish of me, I know.

  He ends the call, and I hurry to recover from its effects on me. Only he doesn’t give me a chance as he quickly reassures me that the call was completely innocent. I trust his intentions. I trust him. I just don’t trust Renee.

  “She called to tell me that her father came to see her.” Dawson places his hands on the lounger on each side of me and moves his body closer. “I called him a couple weeks ago and told him that she was getting help. After all the ups and downs, he was hesitant, but today he showed up for a visit.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  “Yeah.” It still doesn’t seem like he’s said all he needs to say.

  “Is there more?”

  “We’ll talk about it later.” He toys with the string on the side of my bikini bottoms, a playful look forming on his face. Head cocked to the side just slightly, his lips press together in a thin line, even though one corner curls up just enough to indicate a smile trying to escape. “But I do need you to do something for me.” I arch my brow playfully, and for the first time since he got the call from Renee, he smiles brightly. “That too, but we’ll save that for later.”

  I pout, and he tugs at my lip with his fingers.

  “I need you to wipe those questioning thoughts from your head.” Sometimes Dawson knowing me better than anyone else wasn’t a good thing.

  “Gone,” I confirm with a nod, and he shakes his head in doubt. “No, they aren’t, but we’ll work on that.” Note to self: Work on a better poker face.

  Dawson

  I lower my shorts along with my boxers and leave them in a pile of the floor near my feet. The steam from the shower fogs up the bathroom mirror, leaving heavy moisture hanging in the air. Instantly my body grows sticky from the heat of the room. I wonder for a second how Reese could take such a hot shower after spending the afternoon outside in the California sun but then her body always seems to run cold.

  I pause, my hand extended out toward the shower curtain that separates me from the perfect woman, still floored by the idea that she and I are an us. She is humming along with the radio that plays. Even through the clouded curtain, I can see her slim hips shifting from side to side along with the beat of the song.

  Instead of interrupting her, I lean against the wall and peek in through the small gap of the curtain. Watching her, the way her hands massage her hair, the suds of the shampoo running over her fingers before leaving a long trail down the center of her toned back. She even has that little dip in the center of her back, the one that makes her ass even more delectable. I swear there isn’t a part of Reese that’s not absolute perfection.

  “I can feel you watching me,” she says, sounding a bit breathless, not even turning around to face me. She continues as if she hadn’t just caught me creeping on her in silence.

  “I could be happy watching you all day."

  Peeking back over her shoulder, she retorts, “That sounds interesting. I won’t lie. But I'd rather you step inside and wash my back for me.”

  Reese and her inability to recognize just how powerful the hold she has on me is something I’ll never understand. She remains oblivious to the fact that she has me completely wrapped around her finger. I'm pretty much putty in her hands, as she has complete control. I have no shame in admitting that.

  I step inside, careful not to slip. My heart races as she turns completely around to face me. Fuck. My knees feel weak every damn time I witnessed her like this. Hot. Wet. Naked. Free. I slide my palm over her hip and around to her back before I pull her body closer to mine. Her hard nipples against my chest and the wet heat from her body are so inviting.

  “You’re right,” I whisper just before I dip my head lower and brush my lips over hers. “This is so much better than watching. There’s nothing that compares to feeling your body pressed to mine.”

  I hold out my casted hand that is wrapped in a bag, the sound of the plastic or even the way it feels slightly dampening the mood. I hate not being able to hold her up, pin her hands above her head with both of mine, or grip her hips both at the same time.

  Reese’s eyes flutter shut, her head tilts back, causing her to open her neck to me, as I gently rub over her back with my fingertips. She consumes me, leaving me feeling crippled by her beauty. Every. Single. Time. It doesn’t matter what she is wearing or how messed up her hair may be. Reese is and will always be my everything.

  “That feels nice,” she whispers softly, interrupting my thoughts. With her lips parted and her face lax, the scar on her eyebrow stands out more. Pressing a kiss to that very spot, I recall the day of the accident, and how close I’d come to losing her too. Her mother’s death left us all feeling empty for far too long, but I know had I lost Reese, it would have broken me.

  “How is it possible to wake up each day only to fall in love with the same person over and over again?”

  “Listen to you, hot firefighter, getting all cheesy on me .” Hot firefighter? My ego gives a virtual high-five and I can’t help but grin. Reese slides her hands upward over my stomach and onto my chest. “Should I be concerned that you’re getting soft on me?”

  “There is nothing soft about me, sweetheart,” I grind out, shifting my body so my very hard chest and even harder cock are now pressed into her. “I bet it is hard to think now, Reese.” I apply just enough pressure against her while I flex my hips forward. She bites her lip, trying to hide the moan that escapes her, which I’ll take as a yes to my hard response, but she is a moment too late. “Turn around, beautiful.” My body has already begun to tremble as she very seductively swivels around.

  She needs no guidance when she immediately arches her back and parts her legs invitingly.

  “Could you be any more perfect?” I growl the words, suddenly feeling like a starved man. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Reese.”

  “But what a way to go,” she purrs. Wiggling her hips just enough to drive me mad, I fist my throbbing cock. “You gonna do this?” she challenges, “Or do you plan to keep stalling?” She looks back over her shoulder while she wiggles her tight ass against me.

  “Always the smartass.”

  “You know it.” She shimmies against me and I push forward. A gasp leaves her, her palm slapping hard against the shower wall as my name falls from her lips.

  Gratification in the form of a triumphant satisfied smile covers my mouth as I grip her hip to gain the leverage I need. Nothing has ever felt this amazing, and I know it is all due to the woman at my side. I am addicted to the woman who is my world. Reese is the puzzle piece that completes me. She gives me all the motivation I need to be a better man. For Reese, I want to be the perfect one. The only one.

  I look down to the place between us, watching as she slowly rotates her hips, my large cock pushing into her deeply and fitting perfectly, before she shifts forward once more. Soft whimpers and sighs of pleasure fill the small space of our shower. Jesus. My knees feel weak.

  I let her lead, let her take from me what she wants, what she needs. In turn, I get more than I’ve ever bargained for—every part of Reese.

  “Earlier you said that there was something we’d talk about later,” her voice sounds with hesitation and I hate that I was the one to place those insecurities she still felt there. “When Renee called, you said her father had gone to visit her, but that there was more.”

  Her back is to me, my casted arm tucked beneath the pillow under her head, and my other arm slung over
her hip. She doesn’t look back at me when she asks the question, and that alone eats at me.

  “Hey.”

  “Hmm?” Again. Nothing but the back of her head.

  “Look at me, Reese.” I wait for her to give me what I need.

  Her body shifts around in my hold, one deep breath after another, before she peeks over her shoulder at me. “Keep going.” I lift my arm off her hip, motioning for her to keep rotating around. A small trace of a smile tugs at her lips just before she continues around until her front is firmly pressed to mine. “Now that’s much better.” The long auburn wave of hair that has fallen from the wild array piled on top her head partially covers one eye. Unable to stop myself, I twist my finger around it, coiling it, then giving it a gentle tug. “Whenever you look at me, it seems to make things better.”

  “Again with the cheesy lines, Mr. Romance?”

  “Cheesy,” I reply with a kiss to the tip of her nose, “but true. You bring out my romantic side, Reese. You.”

  With a skim of my nose over the side of hers, I close my eyes when hers close too. For a few seconds, we stay just like that. I pull from her the strength I need as I hug her body close.

  “She asked me to come for a visit,” I inform her, immediately feeling Reese tense in my arms, “and she asked that I bring you too.”

  Before I get the chance to prepare for her withdrawal, Reese leans back so that she can look at me openly. “Why would she want me to come?”

  “She knows how in love with you I am.” The hardness in her expression softens. “I’ve never hidden from her how I feel about you. She also knows how hard it was for me to lose you and be without you too."

  “How would she know that?” Her brows wrinkle, her forehead creasing with concern as she holds my gaze.

  “Because she’s called me at least once a week since she’s been in treatment and not once have I not mentioned you.”