Blurred Lines Read online

  “I know,” I say with a small smile. “You never.”

  He lifts a shoulder. “She’s great. I’m just not really interested in a girlfriend, even with someone as cool as her.”

  “See, that’s what I tell her!” I say, throwing up my hands. “But she insists on her little crush.”

  Ben wiggles his eyebrows. “Because I’m irresistible.”

  I ignore this. “You’ll tell me, right? If there is a girl that interests you…like that.”

  He nods. “Sure, definitely. I’ll keep you updated on that as well as the progress of hell freezing over.”

  I dig back into my dinner, satisfied that we’re on the same page on the Lori front.

  Although now I’m wondering if maybe I should tell Lori about our little arrangement. Because if she finds out by accident, she’ll be hurt. Not only because I didn’t tell her, but because I’m afraid she won’t understand it.

  For the most part, Lori’s pretty good about comprehending that Ben and I are truly just friends.

  But learning that we’re also sex buddies might push the limits on just how understanding my friend is.

  And it’s not just Lori who’s bound to lift an eyebrow. I have a good feeling that everyone in my life will have some choice thoughts on my arrangement with Ben.

  But I don’t care. I find that all I can think about is the fact that in twenty minutes…

  Wait. Wait! Twenty minutes? That’s it!

  I noisily drop my fork and stare at my nearly empty plate in horror.

  Ben doesn’t even pause in his eating as he looks at me. “What’s up with you?”

  “I need a reprieve,” I say.

  He frowns. “You’re chickening out?”

  “No, I just—I need an extra hour.”

  He glances over his shoulder at the clock, then back at me. “Why?”

  I point down to my plate. Isn’t it obvious?

  Ben shakes his head to indicate he doesn’t understand.

  Men.

  “I just wolfed down an entire plate of chicken Parmesan, heavy on the cheese,” I explain patiently.

  “So?”

  “So,” I say, “obviously I need to let the food settle.”

  “Sex isn’t like swimming, Parks. You don’t have to wait for thirty minutes before diving in.”

  He takes another huge bite, and I stare at him aghast. “You’re telling me you can actually feel sexy immediately after eating a huge meal?”

  Ben looks down at his plate. Back at me. “Absolutely.”

  “Well, I can’t. I’m a girl. We need time for the food baby to go away.”

  “Food baby? Do I even want to know what that is?”

  “It’s…never mind,” I say, pushing my chair back and picking up my plate.

  “Hold up.” Ben grabs my wrist as I’m moving toward the sink and then uses his fork to stab the last bite of chicken that’s on my plate and pops it into his mouth.

  “Unbelievable,” I mutter.

  He comes up behind me, taking my plate before I can rinse it, and cleans off both plates himself before setting them in the dishwasher. Loading the dishwasher is one chore he’s quite good at. Unloading, not so much.

  “You’re not serious, right?” he asks.

  “Yes I’m serious! I can’t have sex now. What if I get…rumbly?”

  Ben busts up laughing. “Oh my God, no wonder you and Lance never had sex. Rumbly?”

  I punch him in the shoulder. “Keep it up and my hour reprieve will turn into days.”

  “Okay, okay, listen,” he says, setting his hands on my shoulders. “I get maybe how you could feel that way on a first date, or the first time you sleep with some dude destined to be the future Mr. Blanton. But, Parks, it’s me. That’s the whole reason we have this arrangement, right? So we don’t have to worry about things like food babies, or rumbling, or farting in bed—”

  I hold up a finger. “There will be no farting in bed. Clear?”

  He continues as though I haven’t spoken. “Since it’s just me, you won’t have to worry if you’re at just the right angle that makes your stomach look flattest—and don’t lie, I know you girls do that—and I don’t have to worry about what you’ll think of my size. Just kidding on that last one, I know it’s hugely impressive, and—”

  I laugh, pushing him backward. “Okay, fine. You win. You promise not to notice my food baby, and I’ll promise not to laugh at your tiny thingy.”

  His smile drops in mock seriousness. “You take that back.”

  I shrug. “Sorry. I have my theories, and—”

  Ben’s fingers wrap around my wrist, and before I know what’s happening he’s tugging me out of the kitchen toward the stairs.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Where do you think?” he answers.

  “But it’s not eight o’clock yet.”

  “Close enough, Parks. Close enough.”

  Well.

  Okay, then.

  Chapter 12

  Ben

  “You first,” I command.

  Parker’s hands land on her hips. “No way. You first.”

  I grin, because I’m already in motion before she’s finished speaking, one hand reaching behind my head to grab a fistful of shirt, yanking it up and off.

  I toss it aside.

  Parker’s eyes narrow at my now shirtless abs. “You knew I was going to say that.”

  “Guilty.”

  “Now your turn,” I coax.

  She doesn’t move, and we stand facing off in her bedroom.

  “The door’s open,” she says prissily.

  “Nobody else is here,” I say, with what I think is admirable patience. “Just us.”

  “But—”

  I anticipate this, too, once again moving quickly, but this time reaching for her shirt, which, thankfully, is a stretchy, striped affair that allows for fast, uncomplicated removal.

  “Ben!” she shrieks.

  I toss her shirt into a pile with mine. Success.

  Only this time, I’m not quite as cocky.

  Because for all of Parker’s fussing about her food baby, or whatever, from where I’m standing, she’s pretty much flawless.

  I thought I was prepared for this, but seeing her standing there all narrow waist and full breasts, I find that my mouth is dry and my brain is barely working.

  Also, cock hard.

  My stunned response to her body, newly shed of clothing, must give her confidence. Her nervousness melts away in front of my eyes, and it’s her turn to smirk smugly.

  “Your turn,” she says sweetly, her hands returning to her waist, but this time in a saucy, provocative manner, as her right hip cocks to one side.

  My moves aren’t quite as smooth this time.

  My fingers manage the buttons of my jeans with ease, but in my haste to get them off, I forget that I’m still wearing shoes and socks, which ends in me having to hobble awkwardly to the bed to disrobe.

  Parker cracks up at my clumsiness, and I grin as I hurl my jeans at her.

  I’m horny, yes—definitely—but it also hits me that sex with Parker might be fun in a way that I haven’t experienced before.

  I put my hands behind me, leaning back on the bed wearing only my boxer shorts, as I look her over and her laughter slowly fades.

  She lifts her thumb to her mouth and bites her nail.

  She’s nervous.

  We can’t have that.

  I stand up, moving toward her slowly this time until we’re standing face-to-face, chest to chest. Her bra is low-cut and black and lacy, but I force myself to look only at her face.

  “Kiss me,” I say.

  “Hmm?” She’s staring at my boxers. Or, more likely, the bulge beneath them.

  “Kiss me.” It’s a command.

  Her eyes jerk back to mine, holding just briefly, as though seeking reassurance. And then she seems to find it, because her eyes lower to my mouth and go smoky.

  I take a step closer still, my head lo
wering just slightly so it’s within easy reach.

  “Kiss me.” This time it’s a whisper.

  Parker lifts up onto her toes, tilts her chin up, and softly—softly—rests her mouth against mine.

  And then she kisses me.

  I let her take control. It’s the least I can do after the way I devoured her against our kitchen wall yesterday. It’s her turn to drive.

  Her palms cup my face and her lips coax mine apart. Her tongue finds mine, tentatively at first, and I groan at the goodness of it.

  Parker’s arms wind around my neck, deepening the kiss and bringing our upper bodies into skin-to-skin contact.

  That’s when I lose it. My arms go around her waist, my hands touching every bit of bare skin they can as we kiss hungrily.

  I use my nose to nudge her chin upward so I can kiss down her neck, and her head falls backward with a groan, all that long, glorious hair spilling downward toward her butt.

  I tangle my fingers in her dark waves to hold her head captive.

  I’ve yet to encounter a woman who doesn’t like her neck kissed, but Parker really likes it. She’s wiggling against me all sex kitten–like, and I’m beyond hard and I haven’t even gotten her bra off yet.

  Speaking of…

  My fingers reluctantly release her hair, and my mouth claims hers again as I move my hands upward on her back those crucial few inches to the clasp of her bra.

  I unhook it easily, but I pause before pulling the lacy garment off, my head leaning back slightly to meet her eyes and make sure we’re on the same page.

  Her eyes are glossy and dazed.

  Yup. Definitely on the same page.

  With a wicked grin, I slide the black straps over her shoulders, pausing at the tipping point for several seconds to torture us both, and then…

  Parker Blanton is well and truly topless.

  My grin widens as I smile down at her. “Parks. I think this might be the best idea you’ve ever had.”

  Her voice is raspy. “More touching. Less talking.”

  I move my hands upward, pausing before I touch her. “I thought you wanted to bang your best friend because of the talking. Isn’t that what you said? Parks?”

  She growls in frustration, arching her back and leaning in so that her breasts find my hands, and I find that she’s absolutely right.

  I was doing too much talking, and not enough of this.

  Her breasts are full and firm and perfect. Sensitive, too, if the little mewling noises she’s making are any indication.

  I let my palms explore, learning her shape until I reward us both for our patience with a swipe of my thumbs against her nipples, and she responds by grabbing my ass and pulling me toward her with a soft curse.

  I kiss her again, once, hard, then I push her toward the bed until the back of her legs hit it and she has no choice but to sit.

  My eyes never leave the awesomeness of her breasts as my fingers undo the button of her black pants, pulling them over long slim legs. Those, too, join our growing pile of discarded clothes, and then it’s just Parker in her little black panties and me in my boxers.

  I can’t stop looking at her, but she doesn’t seem to mind, because she’s doing a little looking of her own, and then she clamps a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.

  “Are we nuts to be doing this?” she asks.

  “Absolutely,” I say, putting one knee on the bed, a hand on her shoulder pushing her back.

  If Parker liked my mouth on her neck, she likes my mouth on her breasts even more. Likes it when I tease her with gentle kisses on the soft undersides, likes when I trail my tongue between them, loves when I take a nipple in my mouth and suck.

  So lost am I in her perfection that I don’t register right away that her hands are working frantically at the waistband of my boxers.

  “Someone’s in a hurry,” I say, pulling back.

  “Three months, Ben,” she says. “I’m going on three months.”

  “Say no more.”

  I get rid of my boxers in seconds, but I take my time with her panties, easing them down just slowly enough to build her anticipation, my eyes dragging over her long legs.

  And then I toss aside the last remaining garment between me and my best friend.

  No. Fucking. Regrets.

  She apparently feels the same, because she pushes up onto one elbow, her other hand hooking around my neck to pull my mouth down into a hot-as-hell kiss.

  I kiss her back, our tongues playing some game of love and war as my hand slides slowly downward, over her flat stomach (food baby, my ass) until I find her wet and smooth and slick under my fingertips.

  She bites my lip as I finger her, and it destroys the last bit of my self-control. I pull back and dive at her nightstand like a dying man. “Tell me you have condoms in here.”

  Parker doesn’t answer. She doesn’t have to, because the drawer of her nightstand is nothing but condoms.

  “Holy hell, Parks, I think you’re going to be single-handedly responsible for a global latex shortage.”

  She bites her lip and looks at me. “I went to Costco after work while you were at the gym.”

  I can only shake my head as I pluck out one of the eight million foil packages. “A girl who buys condoms in bulk. We really should have done this sooner.”

  I turn back to her, and, despite the urgency of the moments before, I search her face.

  This is it.

  The turning point.

  And although I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want to slide between her legs, I’m not going to ruin our friendship over it. I have to know….

  She reaches out. Touches my cock, and it all but leaps into her hand. She strokes me in firm, smooth motions, then licks her lips.

  “Okay, then,” I mutter around a groan as I tear open the condom wrapper with my teeth.

  She scoots back on the bed as I move over her, her legs spreading as I settle between them. Parker is panting now. Hell, so am I, and it seems crazy that I haven’t been fantasizing about this since the moment I met her, because I’ve never wanted anyone, or anything, this badly.

  My hands are on either side of her, her hands are on my waist, and I pause as long as I can, drawing out the moment.

  I slide forward, and oh fuck she’s perfect. Tight and wet and ready. I gasp a little as I slide further into her, her nails digging into me, pulling me forward as she moans something that might be please.

  When I’m all the way inside her, I pause.

  I savor.

  Now, I wouldn’t say I rush this moment with other girls, but, let’s face it, once you’ve found your way home, it’s all sort of the downward rush toward glory, right? I tend to sort of get in, get out.

  But it’s different with Parker. More important somehow, so I linger just for a moment, feeling her, watching her face, learning her breathing.

  And then she says it again. Please.

  I lean down, my lips finding hers as I pull out—all the way out—and then sink back in, all the way, our moans mingling together.

  I keep the pace slow and steady, at least as slow as I’m able, wanting to make it good for her, because, like she said…three months.

  But apparently her sex hiatus has her all revved up and ready to go, because her breathing quickens in no time, her hips urging me on at a faster pace.

  I know she’s close and my hand slides down, and that’s all it takes; one brush of my finger against her, and she’s arching, crying out, and clenching around me all at the same time.

  The sight and sound of her coming apart destroy me.

  I manage only two more strokes before I, too, go over the edge, pulling the soft skin of her neck between my teeth, softly, as I shudder inside her.

  I collapse.

  She lets me, her arms falling from my back to lay limply out at her side, as I pant into her neck.

  I don’t know how much time passes. Seconds? Minutes?

  Days?

  She turns her head so her mo
uth is near my ear. “So.”

  “So,” I say in response, before pulling myself up just slightly to look into her face, praying I won’t see regret.

  “That was…” She breaks off.

  “Yeah.” I say. Because I get it. No words.

  “So…again?” Her voice is hopeful, and I smile.

  Yup, definitely should have done this a long time ago.

  Chapter 13

  Parker

  Twenty minutes later, the sex haze has receded at least a little bit. Long enough for Ben and me to get back to doing what we do so well:

  Arguing about the shower.

  “I won the kissing bet fair and square,” I say, trying to pinch the arm that lays draped across my stomach. “The kiss sucked, so therefore I get first shower. Now, and every day for the next month. That was the deal. Now let me up.”

  “No way. Yesterday’s kiss did not suck. I had you pinned between me and the kitchen wall and you liked it.”

  “That was the second kiss,” I say, hoping he appreciates the patience in my tone. “Our deal was about the first kiss.”

  “No, the second kiss was just round two of the first kiss. I could have sworn we agreed on this last night. You let me pick the TV channel, as was our agreement.”

  “Well, now I’ve had time to reconsider it,” I say primly. “I’ve decided that I won.”

  “Oh, you decided,” he says, lifting up on one arm slightly to stare down at me. “So that’s it?”

  I pretend to think about this. Then, “Yup. Pretty much.”

  His eyes narrow. “I made you come. Two times. You don’t get two orgasms and the first shower.”

  I manage to lift his arm high enough to wiggle beneath it. “It’s because of those orgasms that I need the shower. I’m all…sticky.”

  He lifts an eyebrow, then sits up naked, unabashed. “Oh, you want the logistics of the aftermath. I’ll show you the aftermath.”

  He points toward the floor, and we both look down to the two used condoms.

  Gross. So, so, so gross.

  “Not it,” we say at the same time.

  Then I’m darting toward the bathroom, squealing when I hear his No fucking way! followed by the sound of his feet hitting the floor.

  I nearly have the door closed before his palm hits it, shoving it back open again, backing me into the bathroom.