Chapter Seventeen Good Is Relative
Chapter Seventeen
Good Is Relative
I am sucking her tit into my mouth, platonically, at the end of our seventh “friendship date.”
I’ve been steadily helping her with her chapters about our time on the show, fact-checking and occasionally asking her to
pull something out that I want to keep as just for us. She’s been remarkably chill overall, but I was glad when she pushed back on a couple of things—it made me feel more confident
that she really was done with all the ass-kissing stuff.
We haven’t gotten to the final season yet—I don’t think either of us is in any rush to—but we’re getting close. Today, we
went to the farmers market together, in the name of avoidance. We agonized over choosing the perfect eggplant to make Nikki’s
famous eggplant parm.
We also got distracted by the crafts section, where someone was selling ultra-luxe robes that they had sewn themself.
Nikki saw me running my hand over them and insisted on buying one for each of us.
I was tempted to protest—they were expensive—but then I remembered she was Nikki Fucking Colletti and could definitely afford it.
The truth? I had wanted to tear her clothes off as soon as we walked in the door—the lingering looks, the trailing touches,
her little innuendos throughout the day—but Nikki was steadfast and unbothered . . . at least at first. She immediately got
to work slicing the eggplant and boiling the water, generally ignoring my attempts to get her to indulge.
We had played this game before, many times, on our first go-round, but now I couldn’t tell if we were reintroducing the dynamic
or if she just genuinely was unaffected. I’m the one who had said no making out. I’m the one who had set the boundary—how could I be disappointed that
she was respecting it, yet again? Still, I was.
Frustrated in every sense of the word, I had decided to push Nikki a little further to see what happened. She was still prepping
away, no doubt pulling together the best dinner I would ever have—even though I was hoping we never got to eat it. I came
up behind her, hooked my chin over her shoulder and nuzzled into her neck until she finally, finally turned to kiss me.
It was gentle and unhurried, more like sliding into a comforting bath than a turbulent ocean.
“What’s all this?” she asked when we finally pulled apart. “I thought you weren’t ready.”
“Maybe I feel like we’ve mastered the art of being friends and it’s time to sprinkle in those benefits again.” I grinned up
at her then, trying to seal the deal.
She gently laughed and shook her head. “I don’t want you to rush into this.”
“I’m not rushing into anything. We’re friends,” I said. “I like being friends with you. I’m not ready to dive into dating or anything, but I’m not with anyone and you
don’t seem to be with anyone, so what’s the harm in scratching that itch together? Our sexual compatibility has never been
an issue, so . . .”
“Friends with benefits,” she murmured. “The thing you didn’t want to be a couple weeks ago.”
“It’s an evolving situation,” I explained. “I’m shocked you’re the one holding out against a good lay.”
“I never said no. I just want to understand what’s on the table.”
“Hopefully me.” I grinned and then ran my hand down the front of her shirt, unbuttoning as I went. Before long, the dinner
we were making was forgotten and the room was a cacophony of gasps and sighs and the quiet snick of discarded clothes falling
to the floor.
Now here we are, this very second, on the floor of this cabin, where I fully intend to fuck her into the rug.
The pot of boiling water bubbles over on the stove, the hissing steam nearly covering her sharp inhale when I pinch her hardened
nipple between my teeth. She arches her hips up, searching for friction and finding some on my strategically positioned thigh
between her legs. I lean back on my heels and flick open the button of her jeans, slipping my fingers between the fabric and
her skin before shifting to yank everything off in one fell swoop.
I hook one of her legs over my shoulder, pressing tiny kisses to the inside of her ankle, relishing the way she squirms against me—so warm and vibrant and slightly ticklish. I lean forward, caging her between my arms as I capture her mouth with mine.
Nikki moans as her leg presses back into what must be a delicious stretch just shy of pain. I am suddenly grateful for all
her years of yoga. She wiggles around, pressing herself back against my thigh so I can feel just how overheated and wet I’ve
made her. I stare down at her big wide eyes, and I have to squeeze mine shut, overwhelmed by the sensations. I slide her leg
back to the floor as I crawl even closer, licking into her mouth with a desperation boarding on anxiety. Nikki matches the
energy but seems content to let me take the lead for now.
The urge to kiss bite fuck consume drags itself out of some primal place deep inside me because Nikki is here, in my hands, under my skin. Mine. She’s mine. If only for right now.
“Hey, hey,” Nikki says softly, dragging one of her hands up to the back of my neck as she studies my face. She reaches her
other up to swipe a tear from the corner of my eye, and I look to the side, embarrassed. I didn’t realize—
“Are you good?” she asks in a gentle voice. “We can stop.”
I shake my head, not sure what to say. How do I explain that our first time back together, in my kitchen only a couple of
months ago, felt like a battle, but this—this feels like coming home?
“You’re not good, or you don’t want to stop?” she asks carefully. “I need you to use your words, baby.”
I shake my head again, feeling lost inside myself.
“I’m scared of how you make me feel,” I say finally, the words I’ve been swallowing for days suddenly out in the open.
“I’m terrified of how much I want you right now.
I can’t . . . friends, right? We can do this and still be friends.
It doesn’t have to mean . . . I need you to say that we’re friends. ”
“We’re friends, Andy.” Nikki shifts under me until we’re both sitting awkwardly on the floor. She wraps her long legs around
me as I lean back on my knees. I look away as she tucks some hair behind my ear. “What do you need? Right now, what do you
want? We don’t have to do this if you—”
“I want to do this.” I study my hands, all the rest of my words running away. I don’t even know what I want to tell her. That
I need to forget? That I need to remember? That I need her to stay forever this time? That in this total reboot, all I want
right now is her skin on my tongue and her hand in my hair. I need her to come with my name on her lips and my fingers inside of her, and then I want the same in reverse. I need to have her, in every sense. I need, I need, I need . . .
“Oh,” she says softly, as if she can hear my thoughts, or maybe I’ve said them out loud, I don’t even know anymore. I’m a
jumble of feelings and nerve endings, more desire than common sense, and if she doesn’t let me touch her soon, I might die.
“Andy,” she says quietly, guiding my face back to hers. She leans forward, sucking my lip into her mouth and gently biting
down. The hint of pain settles me, settles us both, I think. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I say, meaning it more than I think I’ve ever meant anything.
“Then go into my room and wait for me,” she says. “I want you on my bed. Clothes off. We’re not screwing on the floor.”
“But I wanted to make you feel good,” I say.
“You will.” She smiles. “Now, go get ready for me while I clean up in the kitchen. It suddenly feels like a takeout kind of night.”
“But your dinner—”
“There’s only one thing I feel like eating tonight,” Nikki says, and I laugh when her hand drifts between my legs, the earnestness
of her face in such contrast to that horrible line.
A pout crosses her face as she slowly separates us, helping me up before heading to the kitchen. I feel her eyes on me as
I walk down the short hallway. The sounds of her moving around in the other room—the hiss of the boiling water quieting, the
sound of pans being set in the sink—don’t start until I’m safely encased in the warmth of her bedroom.
I slip my bra off and drape it over the chair in the corner, kicking off my joggers and socks before climbing on the bed.
I hesitate before pulling off panties. Nikki always loved to take them off, said it felt like I was a present just for her,
but this time she said clothes off. And I listen, because I know that this time, she’s someone new.
I slide my hands lower, pressing at the ache between my legs and letting my eyes slip shut. I freeze at the creak of a floorboard,
snapping my eyes open to see Nikki leaning against the doorframe, watching.
“Don’t stop on my account,” she says, pointedly tipping her head for a better view.
“Come here,” I whine, reaching out to her with my free hand.
She pushes off the door and comes closer, letting me tug her down beside me and peel off the last bit of clothing keeping us apart.
I wiggle until I’m pressed against her, laughing when she digs her fingers into my side and pulls me on top of her.
She reaches for her lube in the bedside table—ever the prepared one—and I catch a glimpse of her favorite vibrator and the straps she used to use with me.
I tilt my head, a curious smile pulling at my lips. “Bit presumptuous, aren’t you?”
Nikki follows my eyes to where the harness remains caught in the edge of the drawer and grins. “A girl can dream, right?”
I wonder if it should rankle me, the fact that she came here so prepared, as if she was expecting this to happen all along.
But I can’t bring myself to care, not now, while I’m perched on top of her, nearly coming undone from the sight of her in
this bed. No, right now—right now it feels like a compliment.
Nerves cross her face. “I wasn’t honestly expecting . . . I mean, I had hoped someday, but . . .”