by Lily Kate
“Talk to us, honey,” Sasha says. “What’s on your mind?”
“It’s just...”
We’re interrupted by a knock on the door, and my heart stutters.
“I’ll get it,” Sasha says, moving so quickly neither Kitty nor I can stop her. She swings the door open, leans against the frame, and as her eyes focus straight ahead, then work their way up another half a foot, I know who’s there. “Well, hello.”
“Is, ah... Lexi around?”
The deep voice is enough to stir my emotions even out of sight. Bradley Hamilton knocking on the door. This is a scenario that hasn’t happened in years.
“Go away,” I yell.
Kitty pouts. “You’re not making me look good on the bet.”
“I have your pizza,” Bradley says. “You forgot it at my place.”
I exhale. Of course. Business transaction. Simple pizza swap. I can handle this.
My friends watch as I box up the pizza and shuffle toward the door. Sasha backs away, but there’s not an ounce of privacy in the room, and my girlfriends are not abashed to publicly eavesdrop.
When I round the door, however, I’m surprised at what I find. Bradley has changed into jeans and a black t-shirt, a simple outfit that accentuates every curve of his gorgeous physique.
His arms push the shirt out nicely at his biceps, while his chest is defined against the thick material. Even his legs look great, and I’m willing to bet if he spun around, his butt would look fantastic.
Six plus feet of delicious man, and all of it wasted on one who hates me.
My eyes fall to his outstretched arms. In them, he’s got a stack of things—a sheaf of papers, a plate—my plate, the one I’d wanted returned three years ago—and half the pizza.
“Oh, duh, half. Sorry.” I shuffle back to the kitchen, quickly slice the pizza in half, and hurry back with the box and half his pizza. “Thank you.”
“Can I talk to you for a minute?”
He hands his plate of pizza over my shoulder to Sasha, who stares up at him with big dreamy eyes. She takes it, then backs to the kitchen without breaking eye contact on either of us.
“Sure, talk.” I shrug. “I’m standing right here.”
“Alone.”
“Where? I have friends over.”
“Upstairs.”
“Where?”
He raises an eyebrow, and I instantly know the spot he means. We haven’t been up there in ages. I haven’t been up there in ages. The roof had lost its appeal since I’d lost the friend who’d shared it with me.
“I can’t,” I say. “I have company.”
“No, you don’t,” Kitty says. “We’re family.”
“We’ve got wine and pizza,” Sasha says. “We’ll be fine all night.”
“Have fun, kids.” Kitty moves like a panther across the room, gives me a shove out the door, then locks it behind me and yells through it. “You’ll thank me later!”
I blink up at Bradley, who can’t hide the amusement in his expression.
“Hardy har, so funny,” I say.
“I’m not laughing. I’m just thinking I’ll owe Kitty big for this one.”
“So, you wanted to talk?”
“I’m sorry.” He looks at me, his gaze piercing, and it melts something inside me. His voice is soft, and his hands fidget as he plays with the edge of the paper. “Please, let me explain.”
“The roof?”
He extends his hand and clasps mine in his. We’re like two tendrils of ivy, looped around one another. I don’t understand how it can feel so right, so familiar, when I feel like I hardly know Bradley at all.
He gives a nod toward the fire escape. “The roof.”
Chapter 10
LEXI
I wouldn’t consider it easy to get onto the roof. The route to get there involves some serious contortionist moves, a bit of danger, a wish, and a prayer. Luck is on our side this evening as we summit the building.
The view of the city glitters before us, the river sparkling in the distance. We’re alone, as we always have been up here, and despite the city sounds below us—cars backfiring, traffic whooshing, groups of friends whooping as they leave the bars—there’s a layer between all of that, and us. A silence up here, a peacefulness that makes it feel as if we’re contained in a snow globe.
“Why are we—”
He cuts me off mid-sentence. The kiss comes as a surprise, swallowing my words as his hands reach for my waist, the same spot he’d been holding before and grasping tight.
He guides our bodies together until we collide—my much shorter, softer one against his hard, strong frame. His lips, however, are gentle, hungry, demanding as he pulls a kiss from me. A surge of need follows, and a gasp of surprise.
One of his hands comes up, reaching behind my head, twining his fingers through my hair. He uses the leverage to tip my head back, chin up, and deepen the kiss.
Years, months, days, hours all well up in a rush of adrenaline, and my brain nearly short circuits with the excitement of it. I have daydreamed of this moment for years. Before every dance, every movie we’d gone to as just friends, every inadvertent brush of skin that’d turned into nothing.
My body is humming with pent up energy for this, for Bradley, for whatever he’s offering. I let my eyes close and lean into him. I have no control over this, nor do I desire to control it. What’s between us feels alive, a fire burning too wild to tame.
“Lexi.” He pauses, his forehead pressed to mine. His brown eyes are molten chocolate, and I drink him in with every breath. “I’ve waited almost two damn decades to do that.”
I tip my chin upward, desiring more. “Shut up, and do that again.”
“This changes things,” he says, holding back. “I’ve been friend-zoned this entire time, and I’m not interested in being your friend any longer.”
My core is trembling for him. I can barely understand what he’s saying. “Fine.”
“I want you, Lexi Monroe. As the friend you were before, but as more. I need more.”
“I said fine.”
“I need you...” He hesitates, his eyes brightening as my words sink in. “What?”
“I said fine.” My voice comes out scratchy, hoarse. “Now shut up and kiss me again.”
The sigh emerging from him has been pent up for years. I can feel it, practically touch it. Our lips crash together, hungry and violent as he pulls me toward him. His tongue slips into my mouth, roving and exploring, claiming me not as a friend, but as his. The rules of the game have not only changed, they’ve been thrown off the roof.
Then he lets his fingers slip through my hair, and his hands roam down my sides. They land on my lower back as I arch into him, my pelvis pressing to his. I can feel him against me, teasing me through the thin fabric of my pajamas.
There’s not much stopping us anymore. Which is fabulous, since I want it all. But Kitty and Sasha pop into my head, and I can’t help but think Kitty’s going to win this bet if I have anything to say about it. Over two months. Yeah right. We’re barely making it over two hours.
“What’s so funny?” he growls.
“Sorry, no. It’s not you, it’s just...” I shake my head not realizing my giggle had been aloud. “Forget it.”
“Lexi.”
“Kitty was just saying earlier tonight that she thought we’d end up together. Not end up married or anything, but you know.” I’m embarrassing myself, and it’s only getting worse. “Nevermind, okay? It’s stupid.”
“Tell me.”
“She always thought we should hook up.”
“I have to agree with her.”
I blink. “But you always wanted to be friends.”
“I did?” For a moment, Bradley looks murderous. “You did.”
“I figured you weren’t interested.”
“Uh...what about this says not interested?” He gestures down at himself and in all ways appears very interested. “How could you have ever thought that?”
“But—”
>
“You’ve wanted...” He gestures between us. “This?”
“Forever,” I breathe.
“Dammit, Lexi.”
My legs wrap around him as his hands squeeze my rear end, lifting me off the ground. We’re connected by the lips, the hips. Everywhere we can touch.
When we climbed up here, he had papers in his hands. I’m not entirely sure where they went. I’m fifty percent sure that he left the pizza downstairs with the girls. All I know is that his hands are exploring and his tongue—his tongue is claiming me.
We stumble back until we crash into the wall at the center of the roof, a few pillars stacked there for the sole purpose of holding us up this evening. Brad raises a hand, presses it to the wall over my head, and cups my bottom with the other hand.
I’m still wrapped around his body, suctioned to him like an overzealous octopus, or maybe a squid. And I don’t plan on letting go.
He whispers my name again, a bright sprinkle against the black sky. I shift, grinding into him, my hands wrapped around his neck, fingers curled into his gorgeous hair.
I’m kissing Bradley Hamilton.
Holy smokes.
The man has been my best friend for years, a professional hockey player, a hunk written about in newspapers. The hunk who never once in over twenty years gave me any sort of sign that he was interested in being more than my brother’s best friend. More than a buddy to me. More, more, more.
This is more, every inch of it. His body is somehow familiar to me. We’ve touched, hugged, cried together. We’ve danced and laughed and played. We’ve experienced everything together. So much, in fact, that I thought we’d been through it all.
I had been wrong.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long,” he groans, pulling back just far enough to look over my face. “Hold you, touch you, taste you.”
“Why didn’t you give me a hint?”
“It’s not obvious how I feel?”
I can feel his very obvious affection pressing against my stomach at the moment, teasing me there, and I fight back a blush. “I meant before.”
“If you talk about the past, it’s only going to piss me off that we wasted so much time,” he says. “Are you having fun?”
“Yes.”
“Then stop wasting a second more.”
I nod, struggling to formulate a witty comeback. My brain doesn’t work that way on a good day, let alone one charged with other priorities. Priorities like savoring every taste I can get of Bradley Hamilton, basking under every touch. Absorbing every moment so that someday, in the future, I’ll have these memories to look upon fondly should this not work out.
“What are you thinking?” he murmurs, nuzzling against me. “You went distant on me.”
“How could you tell?”
“I know you better than anyone.”
As soon as he says this, I know it’s true. Deep within me, deep in my core, it resonates. Rings like a bell. I’ve never doubted it, not really. Not even with our time apart.
Sure, my brothers and my parents know me well—they’re family—but I haven’t shared everything with them. Not like I have with Brad.
I inhale, the movement shaky as I offer a controlled nod. This moment might be the most intensely personal of any before. Bradley has his hands on me as we hunker chest to chest against the wall. He’s pressed into me hard, teasing with friction against my silky pajamas.
But it’s not his gaze, it’s not his smoking hot looks that have me off-kilter. It’s not even his rock-solid body or the delicious tease of what’s to come should I let him take me to bed.
It’s none of that. Whatever it is goes deeper, far deeper. A thread that’s been running, twisting, weaving together almost our whole lives and has now suddenly become unraveled. We’d existed in this safe, platonic world that has now burst open with opportunities.
Where safety used to exist, now there’s a crater, a gigantic hole in my heart. I only hope that Bradley will be the one to patch it—and me—back up again.
“I wish...” Bradley’s hand reaches for me, moves to push my hair from my cheek. He stills, however, his fingers holding my chin, tilting my face toward his. “I wish so many things had turned out differently.”
“Like?”
“Us. You and me. If only, if maybe I’d said something sooner.”
“Prom would’ve been a good time.”
“What would it be like now?”
I struggle to breathe correctly. Though I have the same wishes as him, I also have a theory that things happen for a reason. I focus on that as my hand reaches for Bradley’s face, his cheek slipping smoothly against my palm.
“I think we understood each other at just the right time,” I whisper, my words fading to the black behind us. “Who knows? Any sooner, and maybe we would’ve ruined things.”
“So much wasted time.”
“No. None of it was wasted.” I press my lips to his forehead. Light and gentle, a hint possessive. “Without years of getting to know each other, we wouldn’t be here. We weren’t ready before.”
“Are we now?”
I can’t hide a smirk as he grinds against me. Then he does it again, pressing me to him until my head comes back and my smile morphs into a groan of pleasure. His lips, hot and demanding, trickle down to my neck and send shivers striking through my body.
It’s insane. I’m wearing clothes, yet this is the most turned on I’ve ever been in my life. My stomach is quivering, my arms and legs shaking. I’m holding onto him just to stay afloat as he does wondrous things with his hands, his tongue, his flesh against mine.
“Can I take you to my apartment?” His meaning is clear as he adjusts again, shifts me so there’s no misunderstanding his intentions. “I need you, Lexi. Us. So badly.”
“No, not now. I have friends over, and—”
“Here.”
“You have a condom in your pocket?” I raise an eyebrow. “Was this your plan all along?”
“No, but—”
“Bradley. We’ve waited this long, we can wait a little longer. We haven’t even had a date yet.”
“Oh, shit. I forgot.”
“About the date?”
He eases me down. “Where did those papers go?”
I feel void without him pressed against me, which is ridiculous. I’m the one who stopped this whole thing. I’m the one who told him no, when all I wanted was to feel him, all of him, taking all of me. Ravishing me. Whatever people did when they fell madly, passionately in love.
Love?
As Bradley hunts around for his stray papers, I’m caught up in the surprise appearance of the word love. If you’d asked me years ago whether I’d loved him, I’d have said yes—then qualified it shortly after with the phrase like a brother.
But that couldn’t be further from the truth today. I don’t know if this is love tonight, but it’s intense and it’s new, and I can say now with certainty that I’ve never felt anything like it before.
The love of a best friend meshed with the joys of romance. The attraction, the trust, the history—all of it. It’s startling to realize how much I’ve missed Bradley and how much I need him. And I’ve been ignoring all of that for too long.
“I know we’re still in the middle of an argument.” Bradley must have found what he was looking for because he straightens and shuffles the newly found papers against his stomach. “But I came to your door to apologize earlier this evening.”
“You—apologize? Get out of town.”
He doesn’t offer a smile, and that’s the only true sign this isn’t a joking matter. Sure, whatever just happened between us might’ve been incredible, but we still have lingering issues. They’re real and now impossible to ignore.
“I came to tell you that I’m sorry.”
“For?”
He inhales, gives a shake of his head before leaning against the pillar. “For everything.”
“Everything.”
“I’m sorry about how I acted
after my accident. I’m sorry for pushing you away, and I’m sorry that I nearly ruined our friendship.”
“Nearly?”
“Nearly,” he repeats with finality. “Because I hope we can recover whatever’s left of it.”
“Of course we can. You never lost it—I was always here for you; I just didn’t think you wanted me anymore. As a friend. Like a friend,” I stutter. “The friendship.”
“I’m most sorry about one thing in particular.”
“What?”
“That you ever had any doubt how I felt—and still feel—about you.” He looks down at the papers he’s gathered in his hands. “Here. You almost saw them earlier when you stormed my apartment, but I was embarrassed.”
“Why would you be embarrassed?”
“Just look.”
I accept the sheaf of papers and study them, surprised to find my name scrawled across the top in clearly male handwriting. It’s barely legible, but it’s there, shining in black ink above a list of printed out restaurants, reviews, and menus. Multiple sheets of them.
“Are you writing a guidebook to the Twin Cities?” I look up, giving him a crooked smile. “What am I looking at?”
“I’ve always wanted to take you on a date. You thought I forgot this past month, but...” A complicated look crosses his face. “I just can’t find anything that’s good enough for you.”
“Good enough for me? You’re joking. You know me, Bradley...Brad,” I correct, and he smiles at this. “I’m fine with pizza and a five-dollar bottle of wine.”
“That’s how things used to be.”
“No, that’s how things are. I’m still the same person I was before.”
“I’m not.” He states this firmly. A pained look crosses his face, his lips tightening into a thin line. “I’m not the same as I was before.”
I stay quiet because this is the crux of what’s been bothering him. I can feel it. The core to everything that’s gone wrong.
“When my knee went out and they told me that night, in the hospital, that I could never play hockey again, something died. A part of me died.”
“I’m so sorry, Brad.” I reach for him, but he gives the slightest shake of his head.
He’s staring into the distance, lost in his own thoughts. “No, that’s how I felt. Sorry. Angry. Annoyed. Pitied. Those words aren’t strong enough to describe what went through my head in those weeks, but it’s a start.”
