10. Philip
Philip
Flipping the shower to cold didn’t help. Neither did working the tasting room at Sunshine Cellars all afternoon. It almost managed to distract me from the breathy sound Ophie made when I kissed her. Almost.
But as my dear old dad always says—almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.
Which is a really fucking dark saying for my dad, who I don’t think has ever had a dark thought in his life. Which is probably why I remember it.
When I arrived, Maggie gave me a quick tutorial on the payment system and an even quicker rundown on the wine list before she left for her meeting. I’d muddled along okay, only having to text Nate for help with the payment system once, and then waited for Kel to come back to shut everything down for me.
And the whole time I’d been chatting with customers, I couldn’t stop thinking about how Ophie’s lips had felt against mine. And how much I wanted to do it again.
Was she thinking about me while she was at work, the same way I was thinking about her?
To distract myself, I’d picked up dinner and settled in for a binge-watch of Miyazaki movies. Nothing like my childhood favorites to keep me from thinking very unchildlike thoughts. When that didn’t hold my attention, I pulled my laptop out and started scrolling through job opportunities and submitting my next round of applications.
My plan was only partially successful, so I threw myself into the shower in an attempt to cool myself off enough to go to bed. The end-of-June heat wave creeping up on us isn’t helping the situation.
As the cold water runs over my body, I focus on the goose bumps it raises along my skin. My cock, who’s been twitching for attention every time I think about Ophie, stubbornly refuses to settle down. There’s so much heat built up inside me that I’m surprised the water doesn’t hiss and steam.
I shut the shower off with a curse, then dry myself before wrapping the towel around my hips while I brush my teeth.
“Philip?” Ophie’s voice rings through the tiny space.
I make an incomprehensible noise, my mouth full of toothpaste and spit.
“What was that?” She pops up in the doorway of the bathroom, surprising me. I whirl to face her with a gasp. Or it tries to be a gasp, but mostly toothpaste goes down my throat and up my nose. A cough explodes out of me at the same time as a sneeze.
My whole body twitches and jerks as I cough and splutter. Finally getting some air into my lungs, I manage to turn and spit what’s left in my mouth into the sink. Ophie is making all kinds of noises beside me, but my eyes are watering so hard, I can’t see her clearly.
“Oh god, I’m sorry,” I pant out.
“Move over.” She pushes me away from the sink, and I stumble a few steps. The water turns on as I sit on the edge of the tub to catch my breath and survey the damage.
Ophie is leaning over the sink, splashing water on her face like a Noxzema commercial. Streaks of my toothpaste spit drip down the doorway, and a splotch is visible on her shoulder nearest me.
“Oh god, Ophie, I’m so sorry.” Now that my breathing is back to normal, I push to my feet.
She straightens, eyes closed and water dripping off her chin. “Towel?”
I snag hers from the rack and hand it to her. She scrubs her face dry while I stand there like an idiot, hands flapping uselessly. If dancing from foot to foot wouldn’t dislodge my towel, I’d be doing that too.
“Are you okay? I’m so sorry. You startled me, and I inhaled—”
With a final scrub, the face I’ve been obsessing over all afternoon emerges from the towel, baby hairs sticking up in all directions and makeup smeared. She takes one look at me and starts belly laughing. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” she gasps out between chuckles. “I was not expecting to walk into a face full of toothpaste when I came home, but I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? I got toothpaste all over you.” I pluck at her black polo shirt. “Can I wash this for you? I feel terrible.”
All the movement has loosed the towel around my hips, and before I can move, it drops to the floor.
Ophie and I freeze.
Oh god, please don’t let her look. If she looks, I don’t know if my half-hard cock will go limp in embarrassment or stand to attention. And I don’t know which would be worse. “Fuck,” I croak out, before snatching the towel from her limp fingers and using it to cover myself. “Christ, Ophie. I should go before I…” I don’t know how to finish my sentence, so I trail off. She’s still frozen, her eyes wide and hands still up, as if she hasn’t moved since I grabbed the towel.
As a strained silence builds between us, her eyes drop to where I’m pressing her towel against my junk. “I…I should…” I stammer out the words, but she doesn’t move aside to let me past her. Instead, she looks up to meet my eyes and bites her bottom lip, making my cock go hard against my fist.
I can barely breathe. What is going through her mind? I just spat in her face, then flashed her. Why is she looking at me like I’m a puzzle she’s trying to solve?
“Philip…can I?” Her words are barely audible. But her next words are louder, surer. “Fuck it.”
Then she grabs my face and kisses me.
Ophelia kisses me like she means business. Her lips capture mine, her hands cupping my cheeks and holding me still. As if there’s any part of me that wants to move away and break this spell. If anything, I’m afraid to even think too hard in case it spooks her and puts a stop to whatever is happening right now. Her tongue swipes out to lick across my lips, sending sparks down my spine, and a moan escapes me.
She pulls back, and for a second, we just stare at each other. My lips burn from touching hers, the imprint of her fingertips on my face seared into my skin as my heart races.
All my reasons for not doing this a thousand times before vanish. All I know is that kissing Ophie feels so good, I could do it a million more times and it still wouldn’t be enough. I need more.
I step into her, about to grab her waist, when I remember the towel clutched in my hands. Instead, I press my lips to hers with a frustrated groan, and she melts against me, the centimeters between us sparking with electricity.
At least I don’t have to worry about what my breath smells like.
Ophie parts her mouth, and I pull her bottom lip between mine, tugging for a moment before I slide my tongue along the soft skin. With a moan, she opens and meets my tongue with her own.
I don’t know how long we stand there in the bathroom kissing. It could be thirty seconds, it could be an hour. Time stops, and everything in the world settles perfectly into place as Ophie’s breath mingles with mine.
Her hands haven’t strayed from my face, her delicate fingers tickling the back of my neck. Again, I need to pull her closer, but the towel in my hands stops me.
Eventually, Ophie pulls back, taking a step away from me with a soft sigh. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips a little swollen. Beautiful.
Her eyes flutter open until she’s looking at me. Strands of her hair are sticking up all over, and there’s a giant wet patch on the front of her shirt mingling with the other bits of coffee and cream from work.
A beat later, we both burst out laughing.
“I…I should shower,” Ophie stammers, still giggling. “And you should probably put pants on.”
“Pants?” The command hits me like a bucket of cold water. Christ almighty, what are we doing? “Right. Yes. Pants would be good.” I trip over my own feet getting past her, heat crawling up the back of my neck. As I’m clearing the doorway, there’s a tug on the towel in my hand.
“I need that.”
I whirl to face Ophie as she pulls hard on the other end, snatching it from my grasp.
The last thing I see before the door closes is her laughing face.
I skedaddle my naked ass to my bedroom, my cock standing at attention and bobbing through the air. The gym shorts I hastily pull on don’t do much to contain it, but since I’m never leaving the safety of this room again, I suppose that doesn’t matter.
For fuck’s sake, what is wrong with me?
The sound of the shower kicking on doesn’t help, because now I’m imagining Ophie in there, soap running down her body. With a groan, I throw myself face-first on the bed, squishing my wayward dick beneath me. The ruffled throw pillows Maggie left behind serve as perfect covers for my head so I can’t hear the shower.
The two of us have spent our whole friendship keeping a careful distance between us, even though I can’t resist kissing her head because, damn , does she smell good. And in less than twelve hours, we’ve crossed the fine line keeping our relationship contained not once, not twice, but multiple times. The line is so blurred it might as well be an invitation, but fuck me if I can figure out what it’s an invitation for.
Are we just blowing off steam? Giving in to curiosity? Or does she want more? Do I want more?
God, I want more .
“Can I come in?”
Rolling onto my back reveals Ophie standing in my doorway, as if my confused thoughts summoned her. Now she’s the one wrapped in a towel, her hair piled on her head in a messy bun. Her face is clean and fresh, but stray drops of water linger on her shoulders and chest.
I can’t tear my eyes away from a lone drop snaking its way down her collarbone and between her breasts.
“Philip?”
I kip up, landing on my feet. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I ask as I cross the room, drawn toward her like a moth to a flame.
“Is it a bad idea?” There she goes, biting her bottom lip again, peeking up at me through her lashes.
I stop in front of her, my heart pounding in my chest. I don’t know if I can say no to her. I’ve never been able to say no to Ophie—not really, anyway. But this version of my best friend feels a little like a stranger, and I can’t tell if that makes this better or worse.
She reaches out and starts tracing circles on my stomach, her touch featherlight but completely new and utterly engrossing. My wife, who until five minutes ago I could have sworn I knew inside out, is proving there are still sides to her I’ve never dared to learn about.
I let her continue for the space of a few deep breaths before I catch her hand with mine. “Ophie, what are you doing?”
She twists her hand and threads her fingers through mine. “Would you believe me if I said I was trying to be brave?” She lifts her chin to stare at me with a stubborn expression I’ve seen a thousand times, daring me to deny her. As if I could.
“Brave? Or reckless?”
“Both?” She takes a half step closer, our hands trapped between us.
My thumb grazes the edge of her towel. The temptation to flick it open flares through me, but I tamp it down. The need to taste her again, to discover the last few secrets she’s kept from me—what she tastes like and how she sounds when she comes—burns in me, but I grit my teeth and force myself to take a step backward.
“Are you sure you won’t regret this?” Each time I take a step back to give myself space to think, Ophie follows.
“I’ll regret not doing this.”
The back of my knees hits the edge of my bed, and I sit down with a surprised thump . Mrs. Full of Surprises moves closer, stepping between my knees. Her bare legs are still damp, her skin warm and smooth against mine.
Silent, I surrender to temptation, touching my fingers to her thighs, tracing the shape of them, the backs of my hands brushing the bottom of her towel. I keep my eyes glued to the blue fabric. The curve of her ass is temptingly close, but I’m too afraid of shattering the moment to go any nearer.
“Philip?” Ophie breathes my name as she shifts. Her knees bend and she slides a finger beneath my chin, forcing me to look up at her. “I know what I’m doing.”
I swallow hard but don’t stop touching her thighs, my hands sliding high enough to hover beneath the swell of her ass. “Why?”
“Why do I know what I’m doing?” Confusion shines in her gaze as she tips her head to the side, one eyebrow lifting.
“Why now? Why me?” I gently cup her ass with both hands and groan.
“Because you’re my best friend. My favorite person. And if we don’t do this now, what happens when you leave? I’ll just always wonder what could have been?” She’s so close, her whispered words tickle my lips. “Haven’t you ever wondered?”
“Every day since I met you.” I squeeze her cheeks and tug her forward. Our chests are nearly touching as Ophie’s lips hover just beyond my reach. “You’re sure?”
“You’re starting to give me a complex, Philip.” Straightening, she moves to step backward, but I have a firm grip on her backside and don’t let her. She leans back, fists on her hips, and stares me down. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
“We ruin our friendship?” I state the obvious while fighting to keep my eyes on her face and not staring at the round swell of her breasts right below my line of sight.
“Do you really think we can go back to how things were after today? With everyone we know constantly asking us if we’re dating? Always fighting to prove that we’re just friends? Don’t you want to just give in? Aren’t you as tired as I am of toeing the line?”
The exhaustion in her voice is clear as she speaks. Her face drops for a second, and I can see clearly how tired she is. Before I can say or do anything about it, she lifts one leg and drapes it over mine, her knee coming to rest on the bed beside my hip.
“If you tell me to leave, I will,” she says, stepping over my other leg and kneeling on the bed, straddling me. My hands slide to her hips as the heat of her pussy settles over my cock. Silently, he begs me to do something. Anything. Just stop torturing him like this.
My hands tighten on her hips, and I take a deep breath, trying to slow my racing heart. “I don’t want you to leave.”
Her hands slide up my arms to drape over my shoulders, one hand twirling the hair at the back of my neck. “Do you want me to stay?”
“Yes.”
Then her lips are back on mine, where they belong. With a groan, I slide my hands up her spine, dislodging her towel. It falls to the floor, leaving her bare in front of me, but I’m too caught up in the hunger in her eyes to look. Instead, I glide my hands over her torso, feeling every inch of her body. Every inch that had been off-limits to me for the past two years is suddenly mine to explore.
The smooth skin of her back.
The dip of her waist.
The swell of her hips that melts into her strong thighs, gripping me between them.
Her soft belly as I slide my hands toward her breasts.
All the while, I’m kissing her—our lips and tongues a frantic tangle. Her teeth nip at my lips as her fingers weave into my hair, pulling at the curls and sending goose bumps down my spine.
My thumbs brush the underside of her tits, and her chest vibrates with a moan. She bites my bottom lip, and it’s my turn to groan as she sucks away the sting.
“Touch me. Like you mean it.” Ophie doesn’t whisper, doesn’t ask. She commands—and I’m only too willing to obey.
I take one of her breasts in my hand and squeeze, massaging it in the palm of my hand as my finger and thumb pinch her rosy nipple. A gasp tears from her throat, her hips rocking against mine. Bending down, I take her other breast in my mouth, flicking the already tight bud with my tongue.
“Yes. More.”
I risk a glance up to see she’s thrown her head back, her arms behind to support it as she rolls her body. It’s magnificent. I go back to what I was doing, sucking and flicking with my tongue, occasionally switching to the other breast. One hand keeps busy with a tit, the other splayed across her back to keep her from falling.
“Hmm, that’s nice. Keep going.” Ophie is vocal with her encouragement in between her humming and heavy breaths. “Oh fuck, that’s good, Philip.”
She abruptly stops making noise, her hips stilling. I release the nipple in my mouth with a small pop and straighten. A splash of bright pink colors her cheeks, her hands clasped over her mouth.
“What?” I ask, an icy chill running down my spine. “Do you want me to stop? We can stop, it’s o—”
Before I can finish my sentence, she’s switched her hands to cover my mouth, cutting me off. Now that I can see her face, her eyes are full of mischief, and she’s grinning crookedly.
“I can’t say your name while we do this.” And then she bursts out laughing.
I grip the nape of her neck and flip us over so she’s on her back beneath me. “You can’t say my name? But you don’t want to stop?” I can’t help giving a little roll with my hips against hers.
She giggles, stopping herself by biting both lips. “It’s just…” Her voice drops to a barely audible whisper. “Not sexy.”
I drop my head to her shoulder with a huff. “You can call me anything you want as long as you’re okay and not about to run crying from the room.”
“Okay, but I can’t call you Phil. That’s even worse.”
The bed jostles as I roll off her to lie on my back, staring at the ceiling. Ophie rolls onto her side, pressing against me, her fingertips tracing patterns on my chest.
“I hate being called Phil.” My words are aimed at the ceiling, but as I finish, I move my head to look at her in time to catch her making a face. We lie like that for a long moment, the silence building until I turn to face her. She starts stroking up and down my side. It tickles, but I force myself to hold still.
“What does your family call you?” she asks absently, her face still scrunched in thought.
I laugh. “A) I don’t want to talk about my family while we’re both naked. And B) if you don’t think you can scream 'Philip' while I make you come, you’re going to be even more disappointed. Their nickname is worse.”
“But what is it?”
“You really need to know right now? While my dick is inches away from your pussy, you need to know my childhood nickname?”
Ophie’s eyes widen at my choice of words, but then she bites her bottom lip again. She continues touching me in silence, her fingers brushing dangerously close to my cock before she meets my eyes again. “I do.”
I close my eyes and sigh. God, I hope she still wants to have sex after she hears this. “Flippy.”
“Flippy?” Her shoulders vibrate with suppressed giggles.
“I told you it was bad.” The giggles erupt in a peal of laughter, which somehow does nothing to dampen my hard-on. “Can’t you just call me babe? Or handsome.”
Ophie scrunches her nose. Her hands had stopped while she was laughing, but now they go back to stroking along my torso. “Well, now you’ve put too much pressure on me, I can’t think of anything.”
“Then how about I keep your mouth too busy for it to matter?”