Chapter 4
Iclimb onto the kitchen counter and search the highest cupboard for the bottle of whiskey Liam and I save for emotional emergencies.
Letting your best friend watch you touch yourself definitely falls into the what-the-hell-was-I-thinking emergency category.
“What are you doing up there?” Liam asks, his tone curious but concerned.
My body reacts to the concern and the caveman role he took barging into my room. He’d look sexy in a loincloth. “Looking for the whiskey.”
“Whoops.”
I stare down at him, and my heart leaps into my throat at the unreadable look on his face. Is he annoyed? Did I scar him for life because boring Emily tried to spice up her sex life?
I turn back to the cupboard and search for the backup bottle. “What emergency did you have that required an entire bottle of whiskey?”
“I’ve had a few lately.” He’s so close. His breath blows hot against the backs of my knees. A flurry of butterflies swirl in my stomach. Relax, Emily. They are just a reaction to the weirdness of the situation. Liam is just a friend.
His fingers curl around my ankle, and his thumb slowly strokes my skin. “Kyle’s a fucking idiot.”
His touch is soft and delicate, intended to be soothing, but my heart thumps an extra beat.
I find a bottle of gin, crack the lid open and tilt it to my lips. With our eyes locked, I gulp a mouthful, the liquid burning down my throat and making me grimace.
Liam grips my hips—his skin soft but searing on my bare flesh—and tugs me toward him. “Get down before you fall.”
I squeal and tumble into his arms, my legs curling around him on instinct.
He carries me into the living room and then drops down onto the couch so that I’m sitting on him, one knee on either side of his hips.
We’ve sat like this many times before, but right now, I can feel every inch of him pressed to my soft folds, only a thin strip of lace and his jeans separating us.
This does not feel like all the other times.
Liam rubs soothing circles up and down my back, hitting the strap of my bra and elastic of my panties each time, reminding me of how naked I am.
“You okay?” he asks.
I’m not sure how to answer. Each sweep of his hand fogs my brain more, and the small amount of clothing between us feels thinner with every passing second.
What the heck, Emily? You just found out your boyfriend cheated on you; you’re supposed to be devastated.
I look down at my chest, mentally taking stock of how my heart feels. It aches—getting cheated on sucks—but it’s not broken. If I really loved Kyle, wouldn’t I be a sobbing mess?
I blink my dry eyes and lift the bottle to my lips again.
I didn’t love Kyle; that is obvious. One night of drinking and the scar on my heart will heal. My self-confidence, on the other hand…
“Am I boring?”
Liam frowns. “What?”
“Nothing.” I clear my throat and sit up, suddenly shy. “I’m sorry about what you walked in on.”
Liam’s throat bobs, and his hands slowly glide down and settle on my hips. “I should be the one apologizing.”
“What happened to your date?”
He flexes his fingers against my hips, alternating between a tight squeeze and gentle pressure. “I stood her up.”
“Why?”
He drops his gaze to my mouth and shifts his hips slightly. “My body seems to be very responsive to your new purchases.”
My eyes widen at his confession, and I remember his immediate reaction when he saw me with Ally. I touch the edge of lace, cupping my breast. “This?”
A muffled groan rolls up his throat.
“Are you hard right now?” I whisper. The alcohol warming my blood makes me bold. Gently, I rock my hips once, testing.
He grips my waist tight, holding me still.
Barely a breath fills the space between us.
His eyes, usually a bright, amber-tinted green, are dark and mossy, reminding me of the tall pine trees we used to play beneath as children.
I would run from him, laughing, pretending I didn’t want to be caught but thrilled every time his arms circled around me in victory.
His thumbs brush the skin above the lace of my underwear—just once, but it’s enough to make my insides melt. My hips rock on instinct.
His grip tightens before he picks me up and dumps me onto the couch beside him in one swift movement.
He flops his head onto the soft edge of the back of the couch.
One arm drapes over his forehead, causing the hem of his shirt to lift.
A tiny spattering of hair on his stomach draws my attention down.
A thick outline bulges beneath his zipper.
“You are hard.” My heart hammers too fast, making my head feel light and the room spin… or it could have been the alcohol.
“I’ve been hard since I walked in on you.”
“With Kyle?”
“With Ally.” He groans. “My dick wouldn’t calm down. So I couldn’t leave the apartment.”
His confession makes my entire body vibrate with need.
I want to tell him to put his hands in my panties and feel my unspoken confession coat his fingers. but the gin controls my tongue now, and I can’t hold back the giggle bubbling up. “Did little Mr. Liam get excited to see Emily’s new underwear?”
Liam’s arm drops from his face and his nostrils flare. “It’s not little.”
A heaviness fills my breasts, and my nipples pinch into tight, aching points. I crawl onto my hands and knees and lean forward, my gaze dropping to the band of his jeans.
Liam's cock twitches in response, separating the denim from his pelvis. A hint of swollen purple skin pokes out.
Wow… A rush of warmth pools between my thighs, and the delicious ache I felt while he watched me touch myself is back. I need that release; my body craves it.
My body craves Liam.
“Em…” Liam’s voice is strained.
Something claws at the back of my thoughts, telling me to stop—we are just friends, but friends don’t watch other friends touch themselves.
The gin makes me bold.
I’m not boring.
I drop my hand to his thigh and look up.
Liam’s eyes flare and his lips part. His chest expands, and his bottom lip disappears between his teeth. He watches my fingers trace a path from the outside of his thigh inward.
What would it be like to touch him?
Liam and I have flirted over the years, but I’d never considered it to be more than just banter. Watching him watch me was more arousing than any time Kyle or any other boyfriend touched me.
My fingers trace a line closer to his zipper.
He grips my wrist gently. “Em…”
Our gazes meet, his eyes almost black.
Liam’s throat bobs, and his tongue pokes out, wetting his lips. A light sheen of moisture highlights the soft upward sweep of his mouth. I lean closer.
Will he taste like the gin coating my tongue or a unique, Liam-only flavor—intoxicating after one taste?
I need to know.
“We shouldn’t do this.”
Liam’s words sound slow and muffled from the alcohol buzzing in my veins.
We shouldn’t do this… This? Kiss?
The thought of kissing Liam, my oldest friend, is ludicrous… and enticing.
I blink, slowly processing his words again.
We shouldn’t… kiss.
I snatch my hand from his chest and stumble to my feet. My skin is a multicolored patchwork of every shade of embarrassment. Liam doesn’t want to kiss me. “I’m so sorry.”
He reaches for me. “You broke up with your boyfriend tonight and have downed half that bottle.”
My cheeks burn at the sympathy and regret in his eyes. Poor Emily, emotional over her cheating boyfriend and throwing her desperate, boring self at the closest guy.
I’m pathetic and boring, and Liam is great and sexy and perfect and… “The room is starting to tilt.”
The floor falls away from my feet, or Liam might have scooped me into his arms. The second option makes more sense, as the house starts to move around me and his muscles bunch and flex close to my body.
“Let’s get you to bed,” he whispers.
Bed… A tremor runs through me as images or fantasies transport me—Liam beneath me, on top of me, anywhere that would get him between my thighs, all of it happening in my bed.
The place only boring Emily fucks.
A pounding starts in my head and I hold back a groan. The only thing worse than ruining a friendship with sex is to ruin it with boring sex.
I let my friend carry me to my room, tuck me into bed, and try not to cringe when he gives me a friendly kiss on the forehead.
“We’ll talk tomorrow.” He walks out of my room, closing the door behind him without a backward glance.
I roll over, groaning into the fresh, linen-scented pillow—cleaned and ready for a night of boring bedroom sex.
This night had escalated from awkward to full-on kill-me-now embarrassing.
Yep, that tingle was definitely embarrassment this time.
I grab my phone from the bedside table, close one eye, and try to open a text to Ally.
I dnt wnt b borin anmre. Tk my out 2 mrrow.
I hit send.
Tomorrow, I’ll go out with Ally and find someone who isn’t my best friend and prove that I’m not boring.