Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

LETTIE

W hy did I say life changing? Is honesty the best policy?

Fear skips through his eyes, but then it's gone. He rocks back on his hands and showers my breasts. With every nip and suck, my nipple peaks and hardens. He sucks at the same pace as he thrusts inside me.

"You're perfect," I mumble until I yell out his name.

My orgasm hits like a tsunami as my body becomes hard planes of muscles stretched and tensed beyond my recognition. "I'm…"

Another toe-curling graze of his teeth. "I know, baby."

He's nudging and swirling against a spot no guy has ever touched. "Please." I buck my hips for just a little more friction. He reaches between us and rubs my clit with his thumb and spreads my folds with his fingers. Rippling, crippling orgasms detonate throughout my body.

Dane follow s me off the cliff, leaving evidence of his arousal on my stomach, then hovers over me, uttering over and over, "You're so beautiful."

I've never made love before tonight. I love him, and he loves me, even if it's not in the traditional boyfriend/girlfriend dynamic, we do love each other intensely.

He comes back from the bathroom with a hot towel to clean me. He's the first man to come on my skin, so he's also the first to clean me, twice tonight. Is that something all men do? Are they all as thoughtful as Dane? Somehow, I doubt it.

After he throws the wet, dirty towel on the floor, he hands me one of his t-shirts. I brought pajamas but I'm wearing a shirt that Dane wore earlier today. It smells of sweat and musk. Once I'm covered in Dane's Property of #11 Stallions Basketball shirt, he flashes me a satisfied glance, picks me up honeymoon style, rolls back the sheets, and a piece of candy goes flying.

"Damn, we missed the candy."

"I had plenty of sweets," Dane teases.

"Stop embarrassing me."

He lays me down, then hops over me and slips under the covers. Sliding his arm under my neck, he rolls my head onto his chest. He seems comfortable right now, but are we going to talk about what we just did, or does he just assume nothing will change?

I wrap my arm around his waist and put my knee over his thigh. We've held each other like this dozens of times in the past sixteen years, never without clothes, but this is new territory.

We used to lie on a blanket on a summer day with our bodies in this same position and point out shapes in the clouds. Lion. Guitar. Heart.

Or while watching movies, I would cuddle up into his arms.

Camping with friends, we always shared a tent, and I always ended up in his sleeping bag in the exact same place—in Dane's arms.

The difference is we're naked, and we just had sex. For me, it was sensual and emotional as his brown eyes bore into me.

Waiting for him to speak isn't me, and I stay quiet for as long as I can, but I don't do well in silence. "I think everything just changed."

His fingertips trail up and down my arm. "I know."

Water fills my eyes, and a tear falls onto his chest.

What does that mean? Does he want our relationship to change? Does he want to keep doing more of what we just did? I do. But it takes two of us to want it. Dane's my opposite. He mulls things over. Never overreacts. He's the definition of calm, cool, and collected. He's not going to say anything he doesn't mean.

It makes me question his words during sex.

Never. Forgetting you is statistically impossible.

I want you to see how much I… need you.

You. On your knees. For me. Hands down, my number one fantasy.

At the time, his words rang true, but maybe that's just how Dane talks during sex—the perfect mixture of dirty and sweet, making me feel special and coveted like I hold the key to his castle.

And damn, his castle is built and is well lubricated.

We tell each other I love you almost every day but in this moment, it feels wrong like it would signify something more than we are… best friends.

When I'm beginning to doze off, he mumbles under his breath, "Everything will be fine. It'll be fine."

His words caress my mind just as his fingers do the same to my arms. One dream has come true—making love with Dane. The physical and mental aspects of the night have exhausted me, and I fall asleep comforted by his breathing pattern—slow, steady, and strong.

When I wake up to an empty bed, I'm shocked. I don't consider Dane a guy who would dine and dash, so I immediately grab my phone to see if I have a good morning text from him. I do not.

I jump up to check the shower and the rest for the suite but no Dane.

Throwing on running shorts and putting on a bra under his shirt, I grab my key card and phone. I tap out a message on my phone with no response. His dad has probably called him to go to the sauna again or on a run. Mr. Greathouse expects Dane to train every day so they may be running.

There's a Starbucks on the grounds, so I'll buy him a Frappuccino. It's not an Icee, but there's ice crushed up in it. It's the thought that counts, right?

While standing in line at Starbucks, I notice the restaurant is open for breakfast and buy Dane a drink. I walk into the restaurant, scanning the room for Dane or his parents. A laugh catches my attention—Dane's laugh. My head spins to the far corner table.

Dane and Daisy.

My knees feel wobbly, and my mouth fills with water, sick to my stomach. I have no claim to Dane, but it doesn't stop my stomach from feeling like it did on that elevator last night.

But who's Daisy to him? No one. No matter what happened last night, I'm Dane's best friend, so I buckle up and walk over to the table. I've been through worse than this. As I close the distance to their table, I hear their conversation.

"Sure, I'd love to show you around," he says with a million-watt smile.

She grins, pushing on his arm. "Thank you. I can't wait. I'm sure you know all the little dives and bars."

Stopping short of the table by a couple of feet, I ask, "Hey. How are you feeling this morning, Dane the Great?" Sarcasm drips from my words.

Dane's eyes meet mine, and we both know in this instant, last night when I said everything changed, it really has.

If it hadn 't, I wouldn't be jealous. I would sit down and order a two-pound omelet full of cheese and bacon.

If it hadn't, I would have received my daily good morning text, and I wouldn't be met with his pleading gaze, as if the words "I'm sorry" were written in script across his big, brown doe eyes.

"I bought you a drink to wake you up. I know it was a long night." I exaggerate the word long.

Daisy's eyes dart from Dane to me. "Well, I need to pack my suitcase. I'll see you on campus."

Of course, Daisy looks like she just left a magazine shoot. Wide-legged linen pants, a white cotton crop top, and her tortoise shell, Tori Burch sunglasses on her head.

"I need to pack too. Do you still plan on taking me to see my grandparents?" I ask.

"Yeah."

He doesn't get up. He doesn't tell me to stay, so I walk away.

Why isn't he coming after me? Once I'm out of sight, I run to the elevator, impatiently pressing the button multiple times. I need to get out of here before I run into his parents or even worse, Daisy again.

When I get to the room, I sit on the couch, crying with his shirt clutched in my hands. I bring it to my nose.

Why did I have to complicate things? Why couldn't I just stay away from his pecker. His big, long pecker that gave me hardcore orgasms. More than that, it was a treasure d connection, never experienced by me before.

We've ruined everything. Our lifelong friendship, as we once knew it, is over. In the morning light, he realizes this was a mistake. Not only do I not get to have sex with him anymore, but I also lost my best friend. Now everything will be awkward.

As I'm throwing my toiletries into my bag, I hear the door clamp closed.

Just act like it was nothing. A hot one-night stand with my best friend. Neither of us can handle anything more.

I see his reflection in the mirror as I brush my teeth and spit in the sink.

"I'm sorry," he says, leaning against the door jamb.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," I croak out, and I hear my phone beep in the bedroom. I wipe my mouth and shove my toothbrush and toothpaste into my makeup case.

When I try to walk past him, his six-foot-six, two hundred twenty pound body doesn't budge. I turn my body sideways to get through what's left of the opening. A surge of tears falls over my lids as he grasps my hand, but for the first time ever, I can't look my best friend in the eyes.