Chapter 10
10
CARLEE
M y head swims, and every inch of my body craves him.
Confidence radiates from him as he strides toward me, wearing a cocky smirk.
Weston reaches out, tucking a loose strand of my hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering longer than necessary as he twirls it. I can barely meet his gaze as the weight of our actions hangs between us.
“I shouldn’t have crossed the?—”
“Shh,” he gently interrupts, his laughter light yet teasing.
My cheeks flush, revealing the mixture of emotions inside me—fear, excitement, and something deeper that I dare not mention or admit.
“Finish your thought. You said it wasn’t supposed to … supposed to what?” He removes the little distance that was left between us.
I can sense an undercurrent of seriousness.
“You’re impossible,” I reply.
My body betrays me. I bite my lip, uncertainty waging war within me .
“You crave impossible,” he says, his tone dropping. “So fucking obsessed with the chase.”
His words wrap tightly around me, stirring something deep within. Weston’s already figured me out.
I breathe deeply, suddenly overwhelmed by his presence, but I finally find the courage to meet his steely gaze. The spark in his eyes glimmers with an intensity that sends my heart into a chaotic dance. There’s no denying the pull that tightens between us, even if it terrifies me.
“It wasn’t supposed to feel right ,” I confess as desire collides with the fear of losing control.
I watch him, but his expression is unwavering.
“You didn’t feel anything,” I say, immediately feeling stupid.
The realization is enough to drown me alive. I’m not used to being on this side of the coin, where I’m the one who feels something. My mouth gently parts, and I check myself, tucking my emotions back in.
We really are just friends. This is proof of that.
I force a smile.
“Please forget I said that,” I say in a hushed whisper.
Weston watches me fight an internal battle. He places his palm against my cheek. His thumb brushes against my lower lip as he studies it.
“You felt something?” he whispers, his voice a deep growl, as he meets my eyes.
“Yes, and I feel so stupid. I should go before I embarrass myself further,” I confess.
I fall into shock as he moves forward, gently brushing his lips across mine. I’m lost with him, my willpower dissolving like sugar in water. Together, we’re the perfect sweetness.
I pull him closer until I can feel the warmth of his body pressed against me. Our tongues entwine, and he threads his fingers through my damp hair, gently tugging. I hear a low growl in the back of his throat .
I moan against him, needing more— all of him.
“Weston,” I whisper.
His hand slides up my shirt, fingers brushing over my lacy bra and against my perky nipple. His touch is dizzying.
I know we should stop, but I don’t want to.
He takes my lip between his teeth and sucks and nibbles on it. We stumble over a line we shouldn’t be flirting with, yet the temptation is so addictive that neither of us pulls away. I want to take that leap with him, not giving a fuck about the consequences that follow. It’s a problem for future me and future us to worry about.
We will always be friends. Weston never breaks his promises to me.
Can we have our cake and eat it too?
We fall backward onto the bed, and he settles between my thighs, hard and rough, adding pressure to my sensitive bud as he peppers kisses along my neck and jaw.
“You taste so fucking good,” he mutters against my skin, capturing my lips again.
I buck my hips upward, feeling the strain of him against his joggers. The thin fabric of our clothes is the only thing between us. The friction of grinding against him drives me wild. I thread my fingers through his hair, knowing I could crumble under him just like this.
We’re tumbling, inhibitions gone, and a moan escapes me. I’m so wet for him, needing more.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, tracing the shell of my ear with his mouth.
My eyes bolt open. “No,” I mutter.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” he repeats, almost pained as he presses his cock between my legs. “It’s not you. Do you feel what you do to me?”
“Yes,” I say, our mouths so close.
Weston places a gentle kiss across my lips, then forces himself off the bed. He stands to the side, watching me. His lips are swollen, and his hair is messy. Tattoos are splashed across his chest and arms. Weston Calloway is an archangel, beautiful and destructive.
I prop myself up on my elbows, sexually frustrated, ready to beg for him, but I don’t. We stare at each other for a long while, neither of us speaking.
This time, it went too far. We lost control.
“Do you need Viagra?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood. “I swear I won’t poke fun.”
He bursts into laughter, glancing down at his rock-solid package. “No. My cock functions perfectly .”
“Am I not your type?” I ask.
“Once again.” He points down to himself. I can almost see the veins through the slinky fabric of his pants. “We’re just friends, Carlee.”
“Friends who like to make out,” I add.
“I didn’t say I liked it,” he tells me.
I take the opportunity to point toward his crotch. “You didn’t have to.”
“Look, you know you’re gorgeous. Any man who has the opportunity to fuck your brains out is lucky. But it would complicate things between us, and I won’t use you. I respect you too much,” he says.
“Sometimes, I want to be used. Sometimes, I want to just be …” I don’t finish my sentence, knowing it’s full of emotions I’m not ready to face yet.
The silent conversation is so loud—or maybe it’s my racing heart echoing in my head. We must break out of this trance before confessing more things that can’t be unsaid. My shields have fallen, and I’m too vulnerable right now.
“I guess this is my payback?” I ask, standing and readjusting my clothes. I try to find calm in the chaos surrounding us.
“For what?” he asks .
“For replacing you as my free pass,” I say with a laugh.
“Oh, right,” he whispers, sucking in a ragged breath as if he was forced to come to his senses. “Just to be clear, you would’ve let me fuck you just now, right?”
His question dances in the air as I cross my arms over my chest.
“I guess we’ll never know,” I say, lifting my brow. My hard nipples and drenched panties say otherwise. “Was just testing you.”
“Oh, okay.”
He narrows his eyes, smirking, knowing I would’ve taken every inch of him. I’d have let him ruin me. Our lips are swollen, and our hair is a mess. While I can’t speak for him, my ego is both shattered and shimmering.
Tonight, we’ve indulged in each other more than we should have and done things we can never undo. My skin buzzes where he touched—a reminder that we scaled the wall of our boundaries together. I search for my words or even a joke, hoping to break this charged silence, but all I can muster is a guilty smile.
“Did you feel anything when you kissed me?” I ask, not sure what his answer was because he avoided it by kissing me again.
“No, of course not,” he says, lifting his brow and giving me the same energy I delivered to him seconds earlier. “Was just testing you.”
“Please, Weston. Just this one time, pretty please give me the truth. There isn’t a right or wrong answer. I’ll accept whatever you say, and I won’t mention it again.”
He stares at me for a long while.
“Yes,” he whispers. “Which is why we can’t do that again. It’s too dangerous.”
Our gazes lock together, like the moon and the earth, and his eyes fill with unconfessed monologues. I know there are a million things he wants to say. But tonight, I’ll fall asleep, knowing he felt something too, and that I wasn’t imagining things.
“Okay. But I won’t apologize for what happened,” I add.
“I don’t have any regrets,” he offers .
As I move past him, he catches my wrist, pulling me back. I rest my hands on his chest and smile up at him.
“It’s not because I don’t want you,” he confesses, like a whispered prayer.
“One of us has to be logical. I’m really glad it’s always you.” I pat him, moving away from him before I do something I shouldn’t. I see a real glimpse of him, the part I relate with him the most.
I descend the stairs, gripping the railing as the bourbon warms my veins—or maybe it was the taste of Weston I had.
“Can you separate the two?” I ask over my shoulder.
My question pulls Weston from his thoughts.
“What’s that?”
“Sex and friendship.”
“It depends,” he admits, trailing behind me, but just out of reach.
Once in the living room, Weston swipes his phone off the table, where he left it earlier. He types something, then sets it back down before meeting my eyes.
“The driver will arrive in fifteen minutes,” he says.
All of the want and need I felt upstairs still lingers between us.
I glance down at what I’m wearing, and a wave of self-consciousness washes over me. “Do you think it’s okay for me to leave like this?”
“It’s your call,” he replies, a smile spreading across his gorgeous face. “I wouldn’t unless you want to confirm rumors.”
I smile, sauntering toward the sliding door that leads to the balcony. The cool night air brushes against my skin as I step outside. He follows me.
“Tomorrow, I’ll pretend like this didn’t happen, just like last time you tried to make a move,” Weston confirms.
“Until you bring it up because you won’t be able to handle me never mentioning it. Just like last time ,” I say, finding the scattered remnants of my evening—my dress and my sparkly shoes that twinkle like stars on the balcony floor. They’re both ice cold .
He watches me, and I love being under his gaze.
I turn to him. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“No,” Weston says, cocky as fuck. “I was your hall pass, Carlee. Your fantasy . The one person on the planet you would fuck without remorse if you were in a committed relationship. That says a lot about where I’ve been in your mind.”
“You know, I’m actually going to murder Lexi the next time I see her for sharing that with you. And you should know I replaced you because it’s supposed to be with someone out of reach, a highly unlikely reality.”
“And you don’t think I’m highly unlikely anymore?” he asks.
“You will always be out of my league, Weston. But we’re friends now, and that changes things,” I say, spilling truths like they’re overflowing as I walk inside.
“Ah,” he says, following me inside with his eyes fixated on me. “You think you’re not good enough for me?”
“Let’s not pretend we’re the same because, on many different levels, we’re not. You’re Weston Calloway,” I remind him. “Who am I?”
“A trusted confidant. One of my best friends,” he says.
In three small steps, he could have his mouth on mine as his hand trailed up my shirt, pinching one nipple, while his other hand slid inside my pants. But even in this fantasy, the friend zone exists, and the vision vanishes before my eyes. My subconscious always fights back when it comes to him.
He turns his head—a gentleman, never once daring to peek at my exposed skin as I change clothes. I carefully slip out of his rolled-up joggers with practiced ease and remove my panties. The Valentino dress is cold, but I deal with it.
I move forward and place my silk panties in the palm of his hand.
“A keepsake,” I whisper. “After a night we both have to forget.”
“Player,” he murmurs, amusement lacing his tone as his grasp tightens around the fabric .
“I just know the rules.”
He laughs, shaking his head.
A smirk dances on my lips. “Have fun pretending none of this happened the next time we’re together.”
“What happened? I don’t remember,” he says jokingly.
He’s too good at this.
Weston leads me to the elevator, and the corner of his mouth twitches up in a suggestive grin.
“I wish you could see how you’re looking at me right now,” I say.
It’s like he wants to push me against this wall and fuck me on the ride down to the ground floor.
“Probably the same way you’re looking at me,” he mutters.
I stand straighter. “Let the games begin.”
“Be careful, Firefly. I play to win,” he says, looking so attractively casual as the doors slide closed.
Proof it’s not the suit.
It’s him.
Forty minutes later, I arrive home, my mind still spinning from being with Weston. The remnants of alcohol still dance in my bloodstream, and I can’t help but replay tonight in my mind.
I undress and place my jewelry in the box on my dresser. I slip into my bed, and the cool sheets contrast with the heat simmering inside me.
Weston lives rent-free in my mind, like an uninvited yet irresistible guest. Had he not stopped us, I would have surrendered every part of myself to him. I wanted to.
My hands drift down my body, longing for his touch. I imagine his lips trailing kisses along my neck and jaw, igniting every nerve. My fingers brush between my legs, finding my sensitive clit. It’s not the first time he’s been the focus of my fantasy.
My eyes shut, and my breath hitches as I dip a finger inside. His name hovers in my throat—a forbidden thought, an urging whisper. I increase my pace, need rising within me like a tide. That man drives me to lose all control as I imagine his lips on me.
The crest of my orgasm builds, and I’m on the verge of exploding, suspended in air. I’m so fucking close, my body nearly shuddering with anticipation. Right when I think I may fall over the edge, my phone rings and startles me.
The buzzing slices through the haze. Heart racing, I reluctantly roll over to see who it is.
It’s Weston.
I catch a glimpse of my reflection on the screen—hair in disarray, cheeks flushed. I need to come so bad, but I reluctantly answer.
“Yes?” I’m frustrated.
In his darkened room, he lounges on his bed, the bourbon bottle cradled in his hand. “You look guilty as fuck.” He smirks, his gaze roguish. “Did I interrupt something?”
I lick my lips, feeling as if my thoughts summoned him from the depths of my desire.
“I was thinking about you,” I admit sarcastically, rolling onto my back. I squeeze my thighs together, nearly breathless.
He lifts his brow, his curiosity piqued. “Don’t stop on my account.”
“Can I help you?” I ask, knowing he’s denied me for the second time tonight.
“Feel free to continue.” His voice is smooth, like the bourbon he sips. “I don’t fucking mind.”
It’s like he knew exactly what I was doing and timed it with precision.
A smile dances on my lips as I consider his invitation. “Would you watch? ”
He picks up the bottle, pressing it to his lips as I slide my fingers between my thighs. I gasp, feeling how wet I am. My mouth falls open, and breaths escape me as I carefully work my clit.
“Carlee,” he growls as my breathing increases.
“I really was thinking about you,” I confess.
He needs to see what he does to me.
I’ll bury it all again when the sun rises.
My breasts rise and fall, and every muscle in my body tenses. I’m right back to being suspended in air. At any second, I’ll lose myself to thoughts of him.
“So, so close,” I hiss, knowing I need this more than I need air.
“Come for me like a good fucking girl,” he demands.
“Weston,” I whisper as ecstasy washes through me. It’s like I unraveled on his command.
I come so hard that I don’t recognize the cries releasing from my throat. I cover my mouth, knowing my walls are paper thin, loving how he’s watching me. It brought soloing to a new level. My eyes open, and I’m in a haze as he stares back at me.
Neither of us says a word.
“I told you to never say my name like that again,” he mutters dangerously with hooded eyes.
“I’m not sorry,” I offer, drunk on thoughts of him. “Did you need something?”
“No, I just had a hunch, and I was right. Taste yourself for me. Tomorrow, things have to go back to how they were before tonight.”
“Of course,” I tell him, still trying to gain control.
“Sweet dreams, Firefly.”
“Good night.”
I reach over, tapping the screen to end the call, closing my eyes as my heavy thoughts press down on me. I feel like I’ve slipped into a dream world and I don’t want to awaken.
Did I really just do that? Yes, I did, but I have no regrets.
Now, tomorrow might be a different story.