Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“Yes,” I whisper, agreeing that whatever just happened is just… yes.
CHAPTER 8
Kane
I’ve always been one to wake naturally with the sunrise. It’s why I keep my blinds half-angled upward so people can’t see in at night, but the light can come in at the break of day.
Yet, something wakes me up, and it’s not the light. As my eyes flutter open, I take in the semi-gloom and guess we’re still a good hour from full sunrise.
And yet, my senses tell me it’s time to get up.
I roll my head on the pillow, expecting to see Mollie beside me, but she’s not there.
Jerking upward in the bed, my head barely angles away from her pillow before I see her sitting at the bottom of the mattress, cross-legged and staring. She’s got the top sheet pulled up over her lap and breasts, holding it up with her arms tucked into her sides and elbows resting on her knees as she watches me.
“Are you watching me sleep?” I ask, my voice still a bit hoarse from my slumber.
“Too creepy?” she asks drolly.
“Depends,” I reply, laying back down and lacing my hands beneath my head to stare back at her. “Were you considering doing dirty things to me while I was sleeping?”
It’s too gloomy to see if that causes her to blush, but she does dip her head a bit as if maybe I’d caught her having kinky thoughts.
But she ultimately shakes her head. “I can’t sleep because I’m worrying.”
That gets my attention. Not so much the words, but the real concern in her tone. I lift, pressing my elbows into the mattress to better see her. “About what? Matthew?”
“No, not Matthew,” she replies with a shake of her head. Although I know he is, indeed, a worry of hers, that’s not what’s eating at her. “Us.”
My stomach rolls a little, feeling something ominous. “Us?”
A slight nod, another dip of her head before she lifts her gaze again. “Did we just ruin our friendship? Are things supposed to be weird now? Like the way they were… you know… the last time we…?”
She can’t even bring herself to finish her thoughts, and I hate her distressed expression. I make a lunge toward her, nab her around the waist, and pull her to me. The sheet slips free, and I ignore her beautiful naked body for the moment, instead pulling her into my side and settling us down onto the mattress.
“See,” she exclaims trying to squirm away from me. “This is weird. Best friends don’t cuddle like this.”
“Best friends don’t fuck like crazed animals all night the way we did either,” I point out.
Mollie gives me a solid push with two hands against my chest to put some distance between us. She glares. “This is serious, Kane. What we did last night changes things.”
Those damn insecurities of hers, creeping in. I sense it would be very easy for her to slip away, insist we go back to the way things were.
But fuck that.
After last night, I’m not going backward.
I resist the urge to pull her back to me, to kiss her, fuck her… make her see that last night was fucking transcendental to our relationship, but she’s too skittish for brute force right now.
Instead, I reach out and take her hand, rubbing my thumb along the back. “Mollie… last night was amazing. Please don’t try to convince yourself it wasn’t.”
“No,” she rushes to assure me. “It was amazing. Too amazing. Like I’m not sure I could even tell you that we need to go back to just being friends, but at the same time, I’m terrified for what this means for us. Are we… are we…?”
She gets frustrated, blows a lock of hair away from her forehead, and shrugs. “What the fuck are we?”
“Still best friends, Mollie,” I say gently. “Always.”
Her eyes drop to where I’m holding her hand, the doubt etched on her face.
“What if the sex was bad?” I ask, and that has her head snapping up. “Let’s just say it was really awful, you faked your orgasms, and well… I can’t fake that shit, but that it was the worst one I’d ever had. What would we be after that?”
“Two people who couldn’t look each other in the eye,” she mutters.
“Wrong,” I exclaim, giving her hand a squeeze. “Still best friends. Because the sex wouldn’t define what we were to each other. We’d be embarrassed and awkward, but we’d go on as before. Nothing would change between us. I’d always still be there for you, and you’d do the same for me. I’d never mention to any potential suitors what an awful fucking lay you were, and you’d still remember how great my cock was.”
That got me a backhand with her free hand to my chest, and I laugh.
Then she laughs, and I finally feel like I can pull her into me.