I had been having a bad bout of nightmares lately and really didn't want to be alone. I stared up at him, my eyes pleading. As he looked down on me, I could tell from the look in his eyes he really didn't want to leave me, but something was making him hesitate. He stood there, his eyes running over me.
“Stay, just until I fall back asleep.” He pulled the blankets back and sat back down on the couch. He relaxed back and pulled me into him. I rested my head on his strong shoulder and lay my hand across his chest. Within minutes my right leg rested over his, and I had fully relaxed against him, listening to his beating heart.
I inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of him mixed with his cologne and buried my face into his neck. He felt like home, a place lately so unfamiliar to me. I placed a soft kiss on his jawline and whispered, “Thank you,” into his ear.
He didn't say anything, turning to look at me. Our eyes finally meeting, he leaned in and grazed my lips. At first, I pulled back—it felt awkward kissing my dead husbands’ best friend. I stared into his blue eyes, neither of us saying a word. Without notice, his lips crashed into mine, his hand on my hip, he rolled onto his side, pulling me tighter into him as his tongue forced my lips apart. He pulled me tighter against him yet, his hand on my ass, so this time, I could feel his excitement dig into me. Within minutes, I found myself straddling his waist, grinding down on him. He placed his hands under my ass, picked me up, and carried me upstairs to my bedroom, my legs wrapped tightly around his waist. At first, things were awkward between us, but as we slowly peeled away the clothes from our bodies, both of us became filled with want and need, neither of us denying what we felt for one another.
Sitting here now, thinking back to last night, I could still feel his every kiss and touch. I could still feel him firmly buried inside of me, every deep, forceful thrust that had brought me to orgasm more than once. It had been almost too intense for both of us during some moments.
I jumped when I heard the stairs creak, and I shook myself out of the memory. I poured a cup of coffee, sat back down at the kitchen table, and started checking my email in time to hear a sleepy voice behind me, “Morning.” He kissed the top of my head, rubbing my shoulder with his strong hand, and made his way over to the coffee maker, grabbing a mug from the cupboard.
I didn't know what to say, I didn't know how to act, everything felt different to me. His touch even felt different. I could feel fear building inside of me, the fear that things would change so much between us, and our friendship would be over. Instead of saying anything, I sat there quietly, smiled at him, and went back to checking my email, trying to pretend all that happened between us last night wasn't eating me alive.
He stood there, taking me in, sipping hot coffee, not saying much either. And by the time he left that morning, we’d had our first real fight, and everything was more of a mess between us than it ever had been before.
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