by Mika Jolie
“Yes. Please,” she says between ragged breaths.
Cori is begging me to touch her. My racing pulse is throbbing so loudly in my ears, at first, I don’t think I heard right. I’m convinced my ears are deceiving me, until she whispers, “Touch me.”
A groan rips from my throat. The divide between the desires of my heart and the restlessness of my mind crumbles. This is the moment I haven’t been able to stop fantasizing about since we kissed, and I don’t want it to end—not ever.
Somehow, our bodies move across the room, until I’m pushing her against the wall. My hands find hers, lace them together above her head. “I want you.” To prove how much, I press my straining erection against her waist. “Tell me you want the same thing.”
Her eyes flutter open. They are dark with desire, my own lust reflecting in hers. “I’ve been thinking about this since we kissed,” she admits, her cheeks a little pink.
Coriander Phillips wants me.
She wants me.
I want her.
I’m dizzy with lust.
My cock, hard as a steel pipe in my pants, begs to be set free.
I want to push the hem of Cori’s dress up her thighs, tug off her panties, lick her clit, and sink into her heat. But common sense kicks in, grabbing control from my dick. This is Coriander, my best friend. I can’t fuck her in my parents’ library.
When we do sleep together, I want to savor the moment, every sound, every touch, every kiss, the feel of our bodies together, the look on her face as she screams my name. Yes, I need to remember every detail, so that the memories never leave me.
With all my strength, I take a step back and put a sliver of space between us.
“Dean?” Her eyes search mine, a slight frown on her forehead.
“Not here.” I exhale, and run a hand through my hair. “Come home with me after the party.”
She reaches for my face and lightly brushes her fingers against my clean-shaven chin. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Dean Conrad Morello.”
“What’s that?” I ask, slightly puzzled.
A faint smile touches the corner of her lips. “To not go for the quick and easy lay.”
Ouch, that stings a bit.
Many people believe that men’s love for sex makes them incapable of waiting for it. That’s not entirely true. This is Coriander we’re talking about. Whatever is going on between us will never be classified as a random hook-up in my book. “You’ll never be a quick and easy lay, not with me.” I take her hands in mine. “Come home with me tonight.”
She gives me a long calculating stare. I can feel caution slipping back between us. “Just like that,” she says, brows knitted.
“You want me, and I want you. It’s as simple as that.”
She slips her hands from mine and ambles over to the desk, where she picks up the book, analyzes it, then returns it to the same spot, before turning to face me. “Or as complicated as that.”
I hear the hesitation in her voice. She’s wrestling with the consequences that come with having sex with me. How that may change our friendship. It’s a recipe for disaster or a long, happy . . . something.
Frankly, I don’t know how this story will end. I haven’t figured out all the details. One thing I know for sure, nowhere in the text will it read, ‘Dean gave up.’ I’ve decided, with stone-cold certainty, I want Cori more than I’m afraid of the ramifications of pursuing her.
“A lot of things in life aren’t easy, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t give them a try.” My voice is surprisingly calm, even though, inside, I’m dying to take her into my arms and kiss her until all of her doubts vanish.
“Most of our mistakes, Dean, are the results of letting our emotions overrule logic.” She stares down at her hands clasped together in front of her, before looking back at me. “My current conundrum when it comes to us. Do I give in to my curiosity and risk losing you?”
“You’ll never lose me, no matter what.”
“How can you be so sure? We have a perfect friendship. What if sex ruins it?”
I brush my thumb over her forehead, relaxing the creases. “Take your art, for instance, not everything you create is perfect,” I say gently. “And it really shouldn’t be.” She smiles at that, and I can’t help but do so as well. “Do you know why, Cori?”
She blinks, no answer.
“Because perfect is boring.” My gaze drops to the floor where the buttons of my shirt are scattered. A few minutes ago, Cori’s fingers had been on me, her lips against mine, begging me to touch her. Taking a step, I close the space between us, but not enough that our bodies are touching. I cup her face. “You’re the last person I expected to want like this,” I admit in a low voice. “But I do want you, and I don’t care how messy and complicated things get between us.” My lips descend on hers for one last lingering kiss, before pulling away. I walk over to the door, unlock it, grip the handle, and pull it open. I stop and glance back in the room, where Cori is leaning against the desk. “Just think about this for me.”
“What’s that?”
“What would you do if you weren’t afraid?”
I don’t wait for an answer. This time, I’m the one who walks away from us, leaving Cori with complete control to process her options—to step forward into whatever is happening between us, or to step back into safety.
Whatever she decides, nothing will ever be the same between us.
“We should be lovers, not just friends.”
THE USEFULNESS OF MY THOUGHTS evaporated some time ago, yet my mind churns in the darkness like a runaway motor. When I start trying to do math with Haskell Brooks Curry in my head, that’s when I know things are bad. This sleeplessness is my torture. While the rest of the world embraces their dreams, their eight hours of rest, I am wide awake, drunk on silence, my thoughts consumed with Cori, dreaming about the things we could be.
I toss and turn, desperately trying to banish the way she felt in my arms, her lips against mine, how perfectly our bodies fit, pressed against one another.
Is she in bed, wide awake, fighting a mental war, as I am?
I want her.
She wants me.
Just not enough. Actually, she’s smart. We’re a bad idea. I’m well aware of that, except I like bad ideas. Exhaling, I scrub a hand over my face. This unrequited desire needs to be tucked away. I should have put an end to these crazy thoughts from the beginning, but I entertained them . . . like a playful pet. Now, my desire has grown into a ferocious animal.
Acceptance is key here. I need to accept that I’m the boy friend, without the perks, and move on. No need for unnecessary tension. Our circle is tight. Attraction, lust, are part of the human flesh. These wild horses of my mind must be tracked down, captured, and tucked away in the Do-Not-Touch Cori file.
My dick, the treacherous prick, not ready to surrender so quickly, throbs against the cotton fabric of my sweatpants. The stubborn bastard is aching to get intimately acquainted with Cori.
Porn.
I need a distraction, some form of release. Sliding my hand past the waistband of my sweatpants, I palm my raging erection. A good jerk off session should at least provide temporary relief. Before I can even begin stroking, a visual of Cori’s lips on the tip of my shaft flashes in my head.
Great. I can’t even fucking jerk off in peace.
Pathetic.
Where are the ménage fantasies when you need them?
I groan out a swear, let go of my throbbing dick, and sit on the edge of the bed. Needing to clear my head, I stare into the night. Outside looks like the gods are having a pillow fight. A cold shiver of disappointment travels through me. I guess, deep down, a part of me was still holding on . . . to what, I’m not sure. Maybe hope that eventually she’d say fuck it, show up at my doorstep, ready to give in to whatever is happening between us.
My lips twitch. Even though I’m an eternal optimist, I know enough to understand that hope is not always a bright star in an infinitely dark universe.
Cori hadn’t taken the bait. It’s one thing to be tempted and another to fall. In the end, she left my parents’ house one hour before I did, with a simple goodnight and barely making any eye contact. Almost as if she regretted what had transpired between us in the library. The idea that she might think that way makes my stomach hurt and feel empty.
I need to speak to her, send her a text. Anything to get communication going. I grab my phone from the nightstand. It’s four in the morning. Chances are, she’s fast asleep. Every fiber of my rational mind knows I should wait until the morning.
That’s my common sense talking. It’s been irrational.
Coming to my feet, I grab my green crew neck sweater, casually thrown on the weathered leather armchair in the corner, and pull it over my head. My brainpower is moving faster than Lucas’ five-year-old daughter can speak, as if it’s stuck on fast-forward, and the volume is jammed right up. I want to wash my brain in cold water, chill the whole thing right out, but I can’t, not until Cori and I talk. I need to see her and wrest back control of my mind. Sitting there, pining away for someone, has never been my thing. Not even if that woman happens to be my best friend. The fact that she’s not here pretty much cements her choice.
I don’t agree with her decision, and no, my ego is not bruised. My dick is awesome. I’m the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. Even at my worst, I’m fucking incredible.
Okay, maybe my ego is a little bruised. But the bastard will rebound. This isn’t about my need for Cori and I to roll naked together. We are much more than that. At the end of the day, my priority is our friendship. We need to go back to the way we were, no tension, back in the friend zone.
The only way to ensure that is to talk.
A quick glance outside confirms the blinding snowstorm has not subsided. A ten minute-drive may turn into forty minutes, but it’s totally worth it. I slip on my boots and stride from my bedroom, grab my peacoat and keys along the way. I swing open the door and come to a screeching halt.
“Sex just makes the friendship more intense.”
THE SIGHT OF CORI AT my door in the wee hours has knocked every wisp of air from my lungs.
She stands before my eyes, bundled inside a knee-length, puffy, black coat with the oversized, fur-trimmed hood covering her head and obscuring her face. Only the tip of her nose and nude full lips are exposed, but I recognize her. I’ve always been aware of her presence, but lately, the feeling has amplified.
“Hi.” A wobbly uncertain smile touches her lips.
Every muscle in my body is frozen. As the realization that she’s come to me bounces inside my skull, I stand in silence, with an expression of stunned surprise. She’s rarely impulsive and hates driving in the snow, even though she drives a badass black Jeep.
This means . . . she wants us, to be with me.
I am rejuvenated by adrenaline.
It’s as if someone poured kerosene on my spark of wonder. Nothing I’m showing on the outside can’t adequately reflect what I feel inside; it’s like every neuron in my brain is trying to fire in both directions at once—the best kind of paralysis.
“You’re going out?” She bites her lower lip and buries her hands inside her pocket. The only sound between us is the soft murmuring of the snow as it falls. “I should go.”
It takes a second or two for her words to sink in. She thinks I’m going over to some chick’s house for sex. “Cori.” My voice is low and rough. Suddenly, my body is off pause-mode. I catch her wrist and stop her from turning away. My other hand reaches up and sweeps the hood down her head, giving me a full view of her face. Her brows are creased, her face tense. “I was coming to you.”
Her eyes widen as the word ‘oh’ slips between her lips. I pull her gently inside the house, into me, as I kick the door closed behind us.
In the seconds that follow, we’re kissing, deep and hard. There’s a fire in our kiss. A promise. This is the moment we’re going the distance.
My heart is beating rapidly. A thrill races through me as I fight to get closer to Cori. My nimble fingers find the buttons of her coat and flick them open. Impatiently, I slide the thick fabric down her shoulders to the hardwood floor, freeing her slender form, and press her curves against me.
She’s soft, lightly fragranced, and feels so good in my arms. Oh, the things I want to do to that sweet body of hers, starting with licking her from chin to that sweet spot between her thighs. Just thinking about it has my thoughts scattering with a myriad of crazy emotions—giddy with joy, a little nervous. The magic of the moment is no longer a flight of my imagination.
I moan against her lips while our mouths continue to tango, wanting nothing more than to feel her skin, her tits pressing against my chest with no barrier, or bend her over by the sofa and mount her from behind.
Must. Take. This. Slow.
Slow and steady, logic tries to persuade me, but my dick, hard as wood, pokes against my sweats, begging to be let loose. I grab the hem of her T-shirt, ready to pull it over her head, when she sets her hands on my chest.
There’s hesitation in her touch. A flurry of nerves accosts my senses. I drag my lips away and search her face for answers.
“We should talk,” she says. “I mean . . . we should establish—”
“I’m not into anal,” I say breathlessly against her lips, “not my thing.”
She laughs. “Good to know, but I meant talk about us, make sure we’re on the same page.”
“We’re on the same page.” Whatever she wants, I’m game. Anal may not be one of my kinks, but that doesn’t mean I’m not into crazy, nasty fun. Bring on sex toys, some crazy role playing, or some weird fantasy, and I’m your man.
An image of Cori, tied to my bedposts with nothing on as I have my way with her, blazes my brain. Yeah, we’re definitely on the same page. And to prove it, I let one of my hands slide up to sink into her hair, the other on her lower back, nudging her even closer.
The problem is, I’m a smart guy, my brain is always on, even during sex or the potential of sex. Something is telling me she’s not referring to how she’d like to be fucked. As much as I want to be with Cori, there can’t be any doubt on her part. “Tell me one thing, you want this.”
I wait, throat parched. Unless she’s one hundred percent sure, nothing is happening.
“I want this,” she confesses.
My heart trips as relief floods through me. “And no regrets.”
She smiles. “That’s two things.”
This time, I’m the one smiling.
“I’m sure.” She slides a hand through my hair. “No regrets.”
And then I kiss her, deep and wet. When her eager hands strip my coat off me, I nip at her lower lip. A pleased whimper leaks from her mouth as she opens for me, giving me full access. My senses spin as my tongue slips in, licking hers, plunging as I fall into the kiss.
In one move, I sweep her off her feet into my arms, my lips never leaving hers, until she tilts her head back in laughter.
“You’re a romantic, Dean Morello.”
I’ve never been called a romantic in my life. Outside of a few times I’ve picked up Cori while goofing around, I’ve never carried a woman anywhere, especially to my bedroom. I guess there’s a first time for everything. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
She wraps her arms around my neck, her crescent shaped eyebrows inclined slightly as she meets my gaze. “Do tell.”
“I’d much rather show.” I’m kissing her again and don’t put her down until we are in my bedroom. Holding her hand in mine, I reach over and turn on the light on my nightstand to a dimmed glow, then meet her questioning gaze. “I need to see all of you.”
She’s changed her outfit from earlier. She’s wearing an oversized red Henley, which appears to be something designed for sleeping, and black yoga pants tucked into calf-length, Adirondack boots. An outfit thrown together in a rush. A smile touches the corner of my mouth. If I were a gambling man, which I am, I’d be
willing to bet she’d been tossing and turning in bed as I have. “Couldn’t sleep?”
A blush creeps onto her cheeks, but she doesn’t look away, or hide the hunger and desire reflecting in her eyes. “Not a wink.”
Lust stirs deep in the pit of my stomach. “I can help with that.”
“I’m a little nervous. I mean, it’s been awhile.”
I know exactly how long it’s been since she was with someone, fourteen months to be exact. Now, butterflies bounce around inside me with anticipation. After a little over a year, I’m going to be the first man to see, touch, feel, and kiss every inch of her sweet body. I get to take her there, and experience all of her.
Yes, as a guy, that is a major ego stroke. And I want to make this special for her, for me, so we are permanently tattooed in each other’s heart.
My body is buzzing everywhere. Since our first kiss two weeks ago, I’ve dreamed of this moment. And now she’s here, in my house, my bedroom.
“It’s like riding a bike.”
This garners a laugh from her. “I hope you have a helmet for us.”
I chuckle. “Don’t worry, I have us covered.” My fingers trace the black lace of her bra strap that peeks from underneath her shirt. Slowly, I pull the soft cotton material over her head. Little sparks of static dance along my skin. I’m not sure whether they’re from her shirt or from my hands skimming her flesh. Either way, it’s a magical feeling that causes my body to heat in complete pleasure and ecstasy.
“Dean.” She lowers my head to her chest. “Touch me.”
My lips brush her shoulder as I kiss her neck. I unhook her bra and let it fall away, leaving me face-to-face with firm, round, and deliciously feminine breasts. “Fuck, Cori.”
She smiles wickedly. “I was hoping for a little foreplay first.”
I cup her breasts in my hands. “Foreplay, uh?” Flicking my tongue over one luscious peak, I then suck it deep into my mouth. I could caress her silken skin forever.
