by S. M. West
Pippa shakes her head, a sly grin creeping across her face.
“You fought it. I tried to get you to see the connection we have. Give in to it.”
A rush of air passes my lips and I involuntarily shudder. It’s now or never.
“Yes. I have feelings for you. Feeling that your brother’s best friend shouldn’t.” With those words, my chest expands as if the elephant just got off me.
“Drew—” She steps toward me.
“Let me finish.” I hold up a finger to silence her. “When you first made it known you had a thing for me, I didn’t feel that way, or at least, I told myself I didn’t. We were teenagers, and it was taboo. You were like a sister to me.”
“Our kiss…” She grimaces sadly and backs away, stopping when her calves hit the mattress.
“There were, I mean, are, so many reasons why we can’t let this go any further than that kiss.”
“Name one.”
“I’ll give you a few. Finn. Our families. Paige.”
“Paige doesn’t have a problem with us being together, and our mothers already know how I feel about you.” She blinks, trying to keep her tears at bay. “I haven’t exactly been subtle.”
A lackluster laugh slips from her pretty mouth, but the sound is more anguished than amused and a lone tear slides down her cheek. Before I can stop myself, my thumb wipes it away.
Touching her is indulgent and she trembles, her lips opening to form a tiny o, and shadows of longing swirl in the depths of her cerulean gaze.
“Pip, what happens when things go south? What happens to our families then? What would that mean for our Sunday dinners?”
“You’ve already got us ending before we even begin?” It’s a statement but comes out more like a defeated question.
Turning on her heel, she walks toward the bathroom, and the knots are back in my gut. Bigger and tighter than before.
“Pippa.” My voice cracks, and I clear my throat. “What about Finn?”
We haven’t talked about him and we both don’t want to hurt him. She stops but keeps her back to me.
Finn is our biggest obstacle.
“This isn’t the same and you know it. He knows it. What happened in the past has nothing to do with us. It sounds like another excuse.”
“We need to keep things as they’ve always been. Friends. Can you do that?”
I hold my breath, not sure what I’ll do if she refuses or, worse, leaves. This is for the best, and in time, she’ll see that, but I don’t want to lose her.
“Whatever.” She shrugs. “I’m going for a shower.”
“Okay. I’ll make dinner.”
She shuts the door, and my appetite is gone.
Once we’re both clean and changed, we eat and it’s awkward. At first, the conversation is stilted, and I fear we won’t get back to our normal. Fortunately, as we clean up the tension eases, and by the time we settle on the couch, all awkwardness has vanished.
“Want to watch a movie?” I slump onto the couch, remote in hand.
“Sure.” She lifts her head from the back of the couch to take me in. “Although I’m not sure how long I’ll last. My body aches, and I can barely keep my eyes open.”
“I know what you mean.”
She curls up beside me, sure to keep a few inches between us, and I find a mindless show to watch.
Not even ten minutes into the show and she’s dozing. Her body lolls to the side and slowly topples over, her head landing on my shoulder. For the first time all night, oxygen moves freely and smoothly through my lungs.
I wrap my arm around her shoulders, and she snuggles into my side, releasing a cute little mewl. Within minutes, she’s sound asleep.
Cars whizz across the TV screen as a larger-than-life police chase unfolds, but I’m not watching. Every single fiber of my being is focused on Pippa.
Her soft, deep breaths, and her warm, slender palm resting on my stomach—it’s torture. I heat with desire and curse myself. I may have said that we can only be friends, but it doesn’t change how I feel.
Giving into the creeper vibe and not giving a damn, I bury my nose into the crown of her head and she’s all around me. My heart rate picks up and my eyes drift closed as I memorize the feel of her in my arms. This is all I will allow myself to have. This moment and then for the rest of my life, it will be a precious memory.
I could stay like this all night, but I don’t want to make this any harder than it is. I flick off the movie and lights and scoop her into my arms. She clings to me, sleeping contently, and I navigate the house in the dark, placing her on the mattress. She curls onto her side and I pull the covers up.
I watch her. For how long, I can’t say. My chest aches a little more with every one of her exhales. I’m mesmerized. She’s an angel. The angel who burrowed her way into my heart over a decade ago.
I wish we could have had it all.
I wish she could be with me all the time.
But that’s all they can ever be, wishes.
Wishes that will never come true.
10
Pippa
Wiping the sweat off my brow, I bend over, hands on my knees and try to catch my breath. It’s not even nine in the morning, and it’s hot and humid. Today is going to be another scorcher.
To cool down from my run, I walk in large circles, checking out the swanky properties to the left and right and scanning the waterfront for many more.
A loud banging followed by a crash comes from the dingy boathouse to the side of what was once the dock. Someone is in there. I’m halfway across the yard toward the noise when Drew exits, cursing.
I haven’t seen him since last night, and my stomach lurches. Is it going to be awkward? Or will it hurt more?
His light hair is dishevelled, strands sticking in every direction. He hasn’t noticed me and tosses a hammer onto the grass, stomping his foot like a child. Gawd, he’s too cute. I shouldn’t find humor in his distress, but before I can stop myself, I snicker.
His frustrated gaze searches for the sound, landing on me, and our eyes lock. He’s only in shorts; his bare, muscled chest is slick with sweat. I shamelessly feast on him. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him shirtless, and he’s more than grown up. My girly parts cry to touch, lick, smell, taste.
“What’s so funny?” Drew breaks my reverie.
The scent of hard-working man and something undeniably Drew hits my nostrils, and my core clenches. If I take another step, my legs may give out. My hands yearn to roam his broad shoulders and hard chest. I can’t get closer to him, or I’ll mess up our new and fragile understanding. Just friends.
Bile crawls up the back of my throat at the mention of friends. I didn’t agree, nor did I disagree. The truth is, I’ll always be Drew’s friend, even if we did get together and then break up. I can’t think of anything he’d do that would make me mad at him forever.
“Nothing. What’s got you so upset?”
“I thought I could fix the side of the boathouse myself, but I’m going to have to call my uncle.” He bends over to pick up the hammer, and the muscles in his back flex and tighten.
I swallow thickly, gazing elsewhere; thoughts of him carrying me to bed last night flood my sensations, flood my brain, flood my core. I wish I’d woken in his arms. If I had, we might be more than friends today.
“Can I help?” I force myself to focus on the here and now, not a fantasy that Drew will never indulge.
“Nah, I’ll arrange for Uncle John to fix it.” He wipes his brow, squinting with the glare of the sun. “Let’s go inside, and I’ll show you what’s next to work on.”
Like the day before, the hours fly by fast and are filled with physical labour. Luckily, we work well together, and things aren’t tense. We talk and laugh about our childhood with long stretches of comfortable silence.
Once I’m done priming the last bedroom, I peel off my sweaty clothes and hop into the shower. My soapy hands rake over my body, washing away the grunge and grime, and
with a glide over my breast, stomach and between my legs, images of Drew shirtless filter through my mind.
My body grows heavy with desire and sensitive to the touch. I crave him, and wish it were his hands palming my breast or caressing my hip. Before my hunger gets the better of me, I flip the shower handle all the way to cold. Icy water hits my heated flesh and instantly smother all my fiery thoughts of sex and Drew.
In my room, I throw on my last clean tank top, forgoing the bra thanks to one already built in, and grab a pair of panties and shorts. The soft silk of my underwear sliding over my sex rekindle the fading, but not dead, embers of my desire as flashes of Drew shirtless, his hair sun-kissed and beads of sweat coating his hard body assault me.
There’s no way I can face him feeling this way. Hot and needy.
I’m going to have to take care of things myself and with that thought, I snatch my phone from the bedside table and slip on my earbuds. Playing out my fantasy of being in a world where Drew is mine and I can have him anytime I want should hopefully take the edge off and get me through the night.
Lying on the bed, my eyes fall shut and I try to squelch my agitation at not being able to have what I want. I’ve survived on the idea of him, but now I’m feverish with want of the real thing.
With my thighs apart and slick with my arousal, my fingers long to give my body the illusion of him. A hand skates seductively down my stomach and I imagine they are his long fingers touching me between my legs, skimming my engorged clit. My hips jolt off the mattress with the pleasurable sensation and my core aches for more.
For Drew.
Yes. I have feelings for you. Feelings that your brother’s best friend shouldn’t.
Remembering his confession from not too long ago drowns out The Weekend’s provocative “Wicked Games” filtering through my earbuds. Drew’s deep, pained voice didn’t hide his desire.
I visualize his hot mouth roaming my flushed skin in place of my hands, one of which is rubbing small, lazy circles between my folds, and the other grazes my breast. Fingers pinch a stiff nipple, and I moan, sinking deeper into my daydream.
I can almost feel the heat of his feathery breaths on my chest as he whispers how much he wants me, how he’s going to make me beg for more, beg for him before he makes me come.
His lips latch onto my achy breast. Teeth scraping and nipping at my flesh. Marking me. I throb and pulse, my body tightening with a fiercely urgent need to be filled and stretched by his thick cock. Sensations ripple through me, heat vibrating at my core in anticipation of my climax, and I swear I hear Drew’s voice.
He’s calling me by my name. But it isn’t distant or muffled. Instead, his voice is strong and true. Real.
Except his tone is wrong. It’s not intimate or seductive. He’s loud and questioning as if searching for me. Reluctantly, my eyes open at the same time the bedroom door opens.
“Hey, Pip, I was thinking—”
I mouth his name in shock and our eyes collide, then his rake down my flushed body, widening with each microsecond. Traces of want heat his eyes and then he comes to his senses, closing his eyes and jerking back behind the door.
“Fuck, sorry,” he groans.
I whip out an earbud and my skin prickles with the memory of his intense stare.
“Drew!”
“Yeah?”
He stays where he is, behind the door and hidden from my view. I don’t think, only act. Giving in to what I want most.
“Come here.”
My racing heartbeat drowns out any music coming from the little white buds. I toss my phone and everything else aside.
“Pip.” He peeks around the door, scowling. His tone is dangerously low. “What are you doing?”
I’m still on the bed, my hand buried beneath my panties. My pussy is wet, and the slightest movement of my fingers sends waves of excitement through me.
I’m at my most vulnerable, bared, and my greatest desire stands only feet away. He owns me with his fierce gaze. His eyes caress me, consume me.
Drew.
He may hate me for this, but I’m not letting this chance slip away.
“You know what I’m doing.” I start to move my hand in slow, measured circles, and he’s fixed on my sex, standing completely still, rigid even.
His eyes bore into me; his mouth set in a thin line. A soft, pleasurable cry slips from my lips as a shiver runs downs my spine.
“Stop.” His voice is strangled, and he squeezes his eyes shut. “Why are you torturing me?”
“Am I?” My fingers continue stroking between my legs. “I could say the same to you.” I keep my tone light and flirty despite feeling like I’ll combust.
Drew groans, clenching his jaw, and nears me. I doubt he realizes he’s moving in my direction, his sole focus on my hand inside my underwear.
If looks could bring thoughts to fruition, my panties would catch fire under his molten gaze.
“What are you thinking of right now?” His voice is raspy, almost pained, and there’s a flicker of lust in his stare.
“You.” I lick my lips, wishing I could taste him. Have his hands on me.
His jaw clenches and hands curl. “You’re killing me.”
His squeezes the back of his neck and shuts his eyes for a fraction of a second, but in a blink, his scorching gaze in on me, again.
“How so?” I spread my legs an inch wider and he swallows with difficulty. “I think about you a lot. You get me off.”
It’s true. I haven’t had sex in months, almost a year, but I’ve not been without orgasms, and Drew has had a starring role in every single one of my solo sessions.
“Am I fingering your pussy right now?” His voice is throaty and a shiver skips down my spine as he leans forward hungrily, his woodsy scent twisting around me.
The hot, pulsating walls of my core clench picturing his fingers inside me, his body, taste and smell surrounding me.
One more step toward the bed, then he pauses, no sooner backing up. Considering the small lines creasing his brow, I guess he doesn’t trust himself to keep his hands off me. I only wish he’d come a little closer.
“You’re touching my clit,” I whisper, and he growls, his eyes flaring like gasoline feeding an already roaring flame.
He roughly adjusts his growing bulge and doesn’t try to hide it. We’re well past that.
“Is your pussy wet for me?” He grunts, barely hanging on to his control.
I nod, somehow having lost my voice, and he licks his lips, his possessing gaze traveling the length of me like a lover’s caress. “Say it,” he orders.
“Yes, I’m wet for you.”
He stares at my chest, and without words, I release my grip on the bedspread to palm and squeeze my breast through the cotton of my tank top. My fingers twist my hot, tight bud.
Drew’s teeth sink into his bottom lip, and his eyes flick to mine. Our attraction, the chemistry, is irrefutable. Dangerously flammable.
“Slip a finger in your pussy,” he directs.
Tethered to his voice, my body does as he says. One digit slides into my heat, and my mouth drops open, but no sound releases.
“Now another,” he groans, gritting his teeth.
Again, I don’t hesitate, greedily accepting his command. I push another finger into my swollen pussy and a mewl slips from my now parted lips.
“Good girl.” He inches closer, each word clipped. “Now pump your fingers, in and out, fast and slow.”
His body is taut, his jaw set, and his fists curl at his sides, but his erotic, electric expression says it all. He’s enjoying this as much as I am. He won’t tell me to stop. We’ve passed a barrier we never dared cross before. Well past the point of no return.
“I’m filling you, stretching you.”
I nod at his words. My hand moves faster now, sensations mounting, and I want to bare myself to him fully. Rip off my underwear and top, but I won’t stop now. I’m so close and I don’t want to break this surreal and mind-blowing moment.
And Drew doesn’t seem to need to have me naked to be turned on. His dark, hooded gaze could set me on fire. My body stiffens, ab muscles clenching with my frantic thrusts and circles, and I flick a finger at my most sensitive spot.
“Drew,” I moan.
“Come for me, baby.” His order is deep and gravelly hitting me where I want to feel him.
Torrents of pleasure bathe over me, and my body is one tingling nerve. My fingers increase in speed, my body arches off the bed, and my lids flutter closed. I quake at the peak of my orgasm, bracing and bucking in bliss.
“Oh my God, Drew,” I cry over and over.
I lay sated, eyes closed, trying to catch my breath as my chest heaves and goosebumps pop along my damp skin. There’s a chill in the air that wasn’t there a moment ago and I finally open my eyes to seek out Drew, but he isn’t there. He’s gone.
It’s disappointing, but not even his departure can diminish or erase my nirvana.
I clean up, dress, and leave my room, smiling all the while. The sound of running water coming from the master bedroom as I make my way downstairs and I wonder if he’s coming in the shower to thoughts of me. I hope so.
Not long after, Drew comes down freshly showered, and I refuse to make this uncomfortable. What happened in my bedroom is progress.
“What do you want for dinner?”
“Let’s go out.” He stands at the other end of the great room as if he doesn’t trust himself to come any closer to me.
“I can make a salad, and we could grill chicken.”
“Let’s go out.” His deep tone carries an edge I’m not used to. “I can’t stay here with you, not right now, or I’ll…”
“You’ll what?”
“I won’t be able to keep my hands to myself.” His jaw locks and eyes darken.
“Who says you have to?”
I’m going for sultry and Drew smashes his lips together, shaking his head.
“Pip, we’re going out. Get dressed.” Irritation or something similar blankets his words.
“You’re no fun.” I pout. “I don’t have anything else to wear. I didn’t exactly pack to stay the week.”