Chapter 8
8
I should’ve gone to sleep.
Instead, I was in bed, staring at the ceiling, my whole body tight with an ache I knew damn well wasn’t going anywhere.
I took a shower as soon as I heard her leave from the bathroom, hoping the hot water would help. It didn’t. The steam carried her scent, increasing the throb in my dick. I washed my face, let the water beat down on my back, tried to erase the night from my mind—her skin glowing under the dim lights, the way she looked at me when she thought I wasn’t paying attention, the heat in her gaze when she turned away too fast.
But it was the sound of her that did me in.
Minnie was still playing in her room when I climbed into bed, but that wasn’t what had me gripping the sheets. The walls weren’t thick enough. Not even close. And she thought she was being quiet.
She wasn’t.
The softest moans slipped through, breathy, choked-back whimpers that had my dick getting even harder, my fist tightening.
I exhaled, slow, tried to turn over, to ignore it, but my body had other plans.
I moved to the side of the bed, sitting up, my feet flat on the floor, staring at the damn wall like I could see through it. Like I could see her .
And I could.
I could see her. That dress from earlier, that barely-there little thing, slipping off her shoulders, pooling at her feet. Her long, soft legs, the curves she never thought were enough, her sweet ass that would fit in my hands perfectly.
She was always wet for me. I knew it. I fucking knew it.
The thought alone had me gripping myself tight, stroking slow at first, then harder, my breath coming heavier.
I imagined pushing her against the wall, sliding a finger through that slick heat, feeling how ready she was, how desperate.
I wanted her from behind. Needed to feel her stretch around me, tight and hot, taking every inch.
One thrust. My strokes got harder.
Two. My muscles locked.
Three. My head fell back.
Four. My cum spilled hot and thick over my fist.
I choked back a roar, my teeth grinding, the vision of her gripping my arms, moaning my name, wrecking me completely.
And I knew—I wasn’t getting rid of this feeling anytime soon.
I woke up tense as hell.
The kind of tension that sits under your skin, hot and humming, like the memory of a dream you shouldn’t have had. Except it wasn’t a dream. It was her voice moaning through the wall. Her soft cries buried beneath the sound of Minnie Riperton’s falsetto. Her breathless release—because of me, because of something we hadn’t done yet but kept dancing around like the inevitable.
The second I walked into the kitchen, she was already there—at the counter, clutching her coffee mug like it might save her from everything we weren’t saying. She didn’t look up. Didn’t speak.
But I felt her.
The tension pulsed between us, stretching taut like a thread about to snap.
I ran a hand over my beard, exhaling slowly, trying not to let the image of her beneath me invade my thoughts. But it was already there—pressing against my skull, against my dick, against my fucking self-control.
If she wanted to pretend last night hadn’t happened, I could let her.
For now.
“You working from home today?” I asked, my voice still heavy from sleep.
She nodded, not meeting my eyes. “Yeah. Commission review is later.”
Her fingers tapped the side of her mug. A tell. She was unraveling inside. Just like me.
“Cool,” I muttered, leaning against the fridge, watching her too closely.
The air between us was thick. Unspoken things floating just above our heads, waiting to be plucked and shattered.
I knew the risk. Knew the line we were standing on had already blurred.
But if we crossed it—if we really crossed it—there’d be no turning back. No more pretending we were just friends who used to fool around when we were bored. It’d be different now. Deeper. Real.
And I didn’t know if either of us was ready for what came after that.
Still, I couldn’t stop myself.
“Let’s hit the record shop,” I said suddenly.
Her head whipped toward me. “What?”
“You could use some new music,” I said with a shrug. “So could I.”
She stared like she was trying to read between the lines. And maybe she was.
“Amir, you don’t even?—”
“Don’t what?” I cut in, already smirking. “Don’t make the best damn playlists? Don’t know my way around a vinyl?”
She rolled her eyes, but I caught the corner of her mouth twitching. A crack in the armor.
“I just?—”
I grabbed my keys, cutting her off. “Come on, A. When’s the last time we went?”
Her lips parted like she had an excuse ready, but she didn’t use it.
She inhaled softly, then let out a slow breath. “Fine.”
I smiled, tossing her a look. “I’ll warm up the car.”
The car ride started easy.
Music debates. Laughs. Her teasing me about my obsession with snare drums and old samples. Me throwing jabs at her for pretending she didn’t love 90s R&B.
But somewhere between a red light and the second hook of a Donell Jones track, the air shifted.
“You remember that day?” I asked.
Silence.
She knew which one.
“The day we argued about albums?” she asked, her voice quieter.
I nodded slowly. “The day I almost kissed you.”
She turned, fast, her eyes wide.
I didn’t look at her. Kept my eyes on the road. My hands tight on the wheel.
“I regret not going through with it,” I said.
The words were soft. Too honest.
“But you know what I regret more?”
My voice dipped, low and slow.
She didn’t answer. I could feel her watching me.
“That night in 2020,” I said. “When I had you on the couch. Hoodie pulled up. Your legs over my shoulders.”
She inhaled sharp through her nose.
“I still think about how you tasted. How soft you were.”
I finally looked at her. “How you said please.”
Her eyes widened, lips parting, but I didn’t give her room to deflect.
“I wanted more,” I said. “Still do. “
She said nothing, but I could hear her swallowing down the truth. That she wanted me to finish.
“I think about that night more than I should,” I admitted. “About what would’ve happened if you hadn’t stopped me.”
The air in the car thickened. The tension between us stretching taut.
Because that was the moment I knew I wanted her. Not just as a friend. Not just for laughs or late-night playlists. But really wanted her. And now it was dangerous. The way we moved around each other. The way lust simmered beneath the surface, quiet but alive.
If we took this step, if we crossed that final line…
There wouldn’t be any going back—and deep down, we both knew we didn’t want to.