Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Theo
I don’t always wake up with morning wood, but it’s full-on right now, and it’s pressing into a soft ass. Without thinking, I grip the hips in front of me and pull them closer, grinding my length against the pliant body.
Who is this temptation in my bed?
She presses back, rubbing against me, and a pleased groan escapes my lips. Fucking hell, I need to be inside her. How can someone be so heavenly? And why does she feel so fucking good? None of the women I’ve been with have felt this divine.
She’s tilted at the perfect angle, and it’s enough to make me moan in pleasure. You’d think I was a teenager again, ready to come in his pants from a simple touch.
With a long inhale, I lean in and nibble on her earlobe. “You’re a dangerous thing, aren’t you?”
She lets out an airy moan, and a deep chuckle vibrates from my chest.
Squeezing her ass, I tell her, “I’m going to fuck you until all you can say is my name.”
She falters, coming to a complete stop.
I’m about to ask her if she’s okay until the faint smell of honeysuckle fills my senses.
Oh, fuck.
This can’t be happening. When did Wren get in my be—shit!
Of course. It all comes rushing back as the haze of sleep lifts.
She woke me up.
Why couldn’t I remember that two minutes earlier? This may be worse than the time Mom walked in on me jerking off. Scratch that. . . Nothing can be worse than that.
“Um,” I mumble while shifting away.
Wren sits up and nearly falls out of bed. “I gonna go,” she says, turning around to face me.
The color blooming on her cheeks matches mine. What in god’s name was I thinking!?
“Yeah, I’ll see you in a bit,” I choke out while she trips out of the room.
I wait for my door to close, and when it does, I grab my pillow and smother myself.
I can’t believe that just happened. Of all the people in the world, it had to be Wren. She’s probably mortified, packing her bags, and ready to leave. Or worse . . . she’s texting Brandy and Mia.
I don’t need a lesson in biology to understand why my body reacted the way it did. Wren is a gorgeous woman with sexy curves. Rationally, any guy would wake up with a hard-on next to her. Yet, the logical part of my brain isn’t louder than my baser instincts. Those are replaying the moment she pressed back and rubbed herself against my length.
I want nothing more than to burst into her room, bend her over, and fuck her until she can’t come anymore.
Shit!
I was in a blur for a moment. Was she in the same fog? Did she know it was me behind her?
I can’t afford to think this way. She’s my best friend, nothing more, nothing less. But these thoughts are running rampant, and they won’t stop. What am I supposed to do now? How am I going to face her?
Reaching for my phone, I decide to text someone who can offer me sound advice.
Me: We’re friends, right?
Robbie: Yes. . .
Me: Good friends?
Robbie: I’d say we’re best friends, but Wren claimed that title years ago. And after seeing her in person, I’d happily lose that fight to her.
Me: Okay, great. So, I fucked up.
Robbie: Did you fuck her?
My eyes widen as my thumbs tap away on the phone screen.
Me: No, but I want to.
Robbie: Ah, I see. Are those feelings making a comeback?
Me: Times it by ten. I woke up this morning with her in my bed and may have?—
What’s the right word I’m looking for? Do I just say it? Or do I put it in nicer terms?
Robbie: Let me guess, you woke up hard because she’s so soft and warm, and she noticed?
That works, too. He doesn’t need the full play-by-play.
Me: And when we came to our senses, she ran out of the room.
Robbie: That’s a doozy. Have you two ever kissed or hooked up?
Me: Never.
Robbie: So, there’s pure sexual tension between you two.
He’s making sense. During her stay here, my desire to explore our relationship has grown.
Robbie: You’re the one who understands her best. What do you think she needs?
That’s an easy one. Wren is as predictable as our comfort show, and right now, she’s going to text her friends, take a shower, and gather her thoughts.
Me: Got it. Thanks, bud.
Robbie: Any time, bestie ;)
Getting out of bed, I head toward my shower and start it with two goals in mind. One: rub out this damn boner. Two: smooth things over with Wren.
And I have the perfect plan for that.