“Don’t be sorry. I liked it.” He grabs my hands and spins us around so he has me pinned against the counter with his impressively hard erection pressing against my stomach.
His mouth is on mine, and we kiss. Oh, holy mother of kissing. He can kiss. His lips, his tongue, his methods… I’m a complete puddle of goo. Why have I not been kissing Chase for the last six years? My girl parts tingle deep within, my body excited with anticipation for more with him.
Then, as if it couldn’t get any better, he moans into my mouth. “Oh, Lydia.” He caresses the sides of my face as if he can’t get enough of me.
He must be feeling what I’m feeling, except my mind is still fighting with reason. This is Chase.
You can’t do this with your best friend.
You shouldn’t do this with your best friend.
You’re going to ruin your friendship.
God, he’s sexy. I need more of him.
How’d that slip in there?
“I want you. I’ve always wanted you,” he says. His words coming out in staggered pants on my neck.
He reaches my weak spot. Just as he open mouth kisses that soft spot behind my earlobe, all my reasoning flies out the window. I throw my arms around his neck, and, not wanting this feeling to ever end, I whisper, “I want more, Chase.”
“Fuuuck!” His word vibrates against my tingling skin right before he lifts my skirt up to my hips and picks me up. His mouth is back on mine, and I wrap my legs around his middle, pushing his erection directly against my hot center. We groan as he heads to what I assume is the bedroom. The friction caused by his movements feels fantastic, and my body becomes eager with desire.
We reach the bed and topple down. Our chests heave in want, but our brains in overdrive.
I look into his eyes, the blue glimmers to life with a hint of concern lacing the pupils. “Lydia?”
He doesn’t have to ask the question. I know what he’s going to ask. He doesn’t want me to regret this as much as he doesn’t want to regret doing this. If this happens, there’s no turning back to what we were, and he’s been the closest person to me since we met. Are we ready to be there for each other in this way, too?
He adjusts himself on top of me and hits where I need him most, making me feel so much in that one little movement. Too much, but I push the developing emotions down, give him an encouraging nod, and enjoy the physical stuff.
* * *
“I volunteered for a transfer back to San Francisco this summer. The company needs a trusted executive to reform practices out there and get the office back in shape.” On the phone with Caris, I try to hide my excitement, but it’s already a done deal, so I give in and let my own happiness grow. “I miss you guys. I miss my family, and that’s the office where I cut my teeth.”
“That’s fantastic news, Lydia. I can’t wait to have you back in the city again. I’ve missed you a lot.”
“I’ve done what I can do here in New York.” But what I don’t tell her is that I’m not living the life I thought I wanted. Work doesn’t fulfill me like it once did, and as for my social life—no one compares—and I’m seriously sick of comparing. Chase is married, and I need to accept that. But something inside of me can’t come to terms with the reality. That bothersome feeling in my heart is keeping me from my own happily ever after.
“It’s time for me to come home and make a life. San Francisco is offering me a normal work schedule. Caris, I’m almost twenty-seven, and I really don’t want to spend the rest of my life alone. I’ve been gone over two years. I’ve put all of myself into my career. I just think it’s time to make something other than work a priority in my life.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that. You’re making the right decision.”
We chat about which part of the city I might want to live in and all the new shopping centers springing up in the suburbs. Loneliness gives way to hope now that I know I can return home, and still have the support of my friends.
Lying in the dark of my bedroom later that night, that nagging tug in my heart works its way to my head. Chase. I can only think wonderful things about him with our history, but my tummy stirs remembering how his hands felt on my body when we made love, and how he made me feel sexy and cherished.
“I’m damned if I do you and damned if I don’t,” he says, his mouth crashing down on mine, making the decision for both of us as his hand slides down my body and over my hips, behind my knee and down my calf. He takes my shoe off, and then wraps my leg around his hip, repeating the process with my other leg.
I pull his belt free, and toss it to the floor before I start on the buttons of his shirt. His mouth wanders over any exposed skin he can find around my neck, but he suddenly sits up, his breath deep and heavy. He pulls his shirt off over his head, not bothering with the lower buttons and tosses it behind him.