Friends with Benefits (Friend Zone Series Book 3)

by Nicole Blanchard

  “No, she doesn’t,” I said before I could think better of it. I winced, even as the words passed my lips. I wished I was a better liar.

  His eyes widened. “Dude!”

  “Don’t read into it,” I warned.

  “C’mon, bro. This is the last chance you’re ever gonna get with this girl. You better hop on that before she’s locked down again.”

  “I can’t do that. She’s really broken up and shit. She doesn’t need me being a douche about it.”

  “If you say she needs a friend, I’m gonna slug you one.”

  I focused on my reps for a few. “She does just need a friend.”

  “That’s it; I’m gonna hit you. Someone has to knock some sense into you.”

  “Not every chick is DTF, man. Even if it was like that, I’m not that kinda guy anymore.”

  “We’re all that kinda guy. You’re just stuck on this chick. I don’t know what you see in her that’s got you so twisted.”

  “I’m not twisted up about her.”

  “You’re so twisted, you might as well be a fuckin’ pretzel. I wish you two would just fuck and get it over with. Then maybe you’d be my wingman again.”

  “I’m still your wingman,” I said indignantly.

  He scoffed. “You haven’t been my wingman since you laid eyes on that girl.”

  “Whatever, man.”

  “I’m telling you,” he said as we moved to the benches, “if you’d get her into bed, you’d get her outta your system. Yeah, buddy!”

  I was avoiding her.

  Call me a dick, but it was best for both of us, especially considering the conversation I’d had with Alex. Spending more time with Ember would only be a bad idea; she had enough on her plate to deal with as it was. Besides, I doubted getting her into bed would get her out of my system.

  My phone chimed with a notification as I got on the elevator after a brutal practice. I was sore from my shoulders to my toes, but my throwing arm especially had taken a beating since I had resolved to throw myself into ball to forget all the things I wanted to do to Ember. I unlocked the screen and found an email from my mother. It had been a couple of days, but they didn’t often check their email, and Ember had a few more days before she was in desperate straits without a sitter to watch the girls for her shifts.

  Tripp,

  I’d love to watch the girls for Ember. Does she have a set schedule, or is she on rotating shifts? Why don’t you bring them by for dinner tomorrow if they’re available, and we’ll discuss the details?

  Thank you for thinking of me!

  Love, Mom

  Shit.

  It’s not that I didn’t want to see her. In fact, she occupied most of my thoughts—and even my dreams—at this point. I couldn’t seem to get her out of my head. It didn’t matter how hard I pushed myself at practice or how many books I tried to bury myself in; the only thing I was able to focus on was Ember.

  I blamed Alex for all his shit talking.

  All I could think about was getting her outta her clothes and into bed once and for all.

  The way her hair had felt, silky and fine against my bare chest, haunted me. I couldn’t keep the imprint of her body from haunting my senses like a ghost. I’d wake up in the middle of the night and be disappointed she wasn’t there beside me.

  They’d let us out of practice and training early today since it was a holiday weekend, and Coach Taylor was going to get reamed if he didn’t spend it with his wife. I’d tried to convince them to let me stay and lock up, but no dice.

  My plan was to stop by, extend the invitation from my parents, and then get the hell out of there. If I was lucky, the twins would be home from school early, and we’d have chaperones. God knew I needed one whenever Ember was around. Preferably more than one.

  That way, I wouldn’t be tempted to put my hands on her to see if she felt as good as I remembered.

  Maybe she wouldn’t even be home, and I’d text her or something instead. Which is what I should have done instead of knocking on her door. But I had promised her that shit wouldn’t get weird, and I wouldn’t let it.

  I could control myself.

  At least, that’s what I thought until she opened the door in a thin camisole and yoga pants.

  Goddamn those yoga pants.

  I began to sweat. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, and I forgot what I was going to say. All I could do was stare.

  “Hey!” she said cheerfully. “I was just doing some yoga. Pinterest says it’s the best way to reduce stress.”

  “Is it working?” I choked out. Maybe I needed to start yoga. I should talk to Coach about it.

  “I guess we’ll see.” Her skin was covered in a sheen of sweat. I wanted to lick it off her. “Did you need something?”

  “What? Oh, yeah. My mom emailed. She said we could have dinner tomorrow and talk about her watching your sisters.”

  Why was her skin so pink? The flush spread up from her breasts and crept up her neck, a gradient from the lightest red to cream. I wanted to feel the heat of her against my lips. I thought exposure to a stimulant was supposed to make you more resistant. Was I somehow becoming more sensitive to her presence instead?

  She made a squeal of surprised delight. “Really? That’s such good news. Hey, maybe this yoga stuff does work! Why don’t you come in, and you can hang out until the twins get home?”

  I hesitated in the doorway. Being alone together didn’t seem like a good idea. It was ironic that I’d spent the past few years fantasizing about what I’d like to do with Ember when I got her alone, but now that the opportunity had presented itself, I wanted to run in the opposite direction. Not because I was scared, but because I wasn’t altogether certain I could keep myself from doing all the things I’d imagined doing to her over the years.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked as she turned back to me. Her short red ponytail bobbed, the tips of her hair brushing against her neck and along the tops of her shoulders. I was mesmerized. “Tripp?” she prompted when I didn’t answer.

  I shook my head. “No, everything’s fine. I’ve got a load of homework to do, though, so maybe I should head back to my place.” The end of my sentence sounded more like a question than a statement.

  She scoffed, rolled her eyes, and took my hand, pulling me inside. My feet followed without any encouragement on my part, despite the shouted protests inside my head. I was the one who told her not to make it weird, and here I was, acting like a complete creep.

  “You should try yoga, Tripp. You seem stressed enough for the both of us. Practice not going well? How’s your shoulder?”

  “It’s alright,” I answered, glossing over the question. “Are you sure you want me to hang around? You’re probably busy with the girls.”

  She shoved my shoulder and said with a laugh, “Don’t be silly. Of course I want you to hang around.” At my grimace, she gasped. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  The look hadn’t been because of my previously injured shoulder. It had been because having her hands on me felt electric––like being struck by lightening.

  “No, I’m fine. My shoulder’s okay. You seem to be feeling better,” I commented as she went to her TV to pause the yoga video. She gestured for me to sit beside her on the couch.

  “I dunno, maybe. If you count shoving everything down and trying not to think about it ‘better,’ then yeah, I’m fabulous.”

  Her smile was a little too bright, and it was as though her forced cheerfulness would shatter at the slightest touch. It only drove home the feeling that it’d be wrong to make a move on her.

  But, God, how I wanted to.

  Instead, I nudged her soulder. “Don’t bullshit me. What’s going on? That dickhead call you again?”

  “If I say, ‘I’m fine,’ are you going to ask if I’m sure?”

  I found myself playing with her hair. I always seemed to be touching her hair. It was like candlelight, the way the reds and golds flickered and b
lended. “Maybe,” I answered—when I remembered she’d asked me a question.

  Keep your hands to yourself, Wilder.

  Easier said than done.

  Chapter Nine

  Ember

  Tripp’s hands on me after spending the night twisted up with him made me want to shiver, but I locked my muscles and ignored the urge. I had to ignore a lot of urges these days where he was concerned. I knew he was interested, or at least he used to be a couple of years ago, but we were friends now—or so I thought.

  I’d specifically told him when we first met that we couldn’t be together. I had had too much on my plate. School, work, the kids. My parents. I had told him it would be better if we could just be friends.

  Was it the recent heartbreak that had me clinging to Tripp for the attention and affection he so readily gave?

  If so, I was being a shitty friend. Sending mixed signals. Being needy and wishy-washy.

  “Am I a terrible friend?” I asked.

  His fingers drifted from my hair down to squeeze my shoulder. “What makes you say that? Of course not.”

  I couldn’t very well tell him that I was thinking about jumping his bones because I thought it would soothe all the hurt away, so I said, “I’ve been so selfish recently. I just want to make sure I’m not taking advantage of you.”

  Was it my imagination—or perhaps desperate hope—or did his grey-blue eyes light up at the thought? My skin prickled with heat, and my nipples beaded under my shirt.

  How had I gone all this time and not realized how incredibly kissable his lips were?

  He coughed and shifted on the couch. “You’re not taking advantage of me, angel.” The words were innocent, but my fevered brain wondered if he’d mind if I did take advantage of him.

  I needed help. Clearly.

  Maybe I was having some sort of mental breakdown.

  “You sure? You can tell me if I’m being too crazy or whatever.”

  “Shut up,” he said affectionately. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t put up with your crazy?

  “A sane one,” I answered.

  “Then I guess we’ll be crazy together.” He tugged at my hair, then rubbed a hand down my arm. “Since you’re keeping me prisoner, wanna watch a game till the twins get home? I know how much you love sports.”

  I nodded, but I was only half listening.

  That’s what I liked about him. What I’d liked since we first met. He never backed down when things got too intense. Even when I thought the drama of my life would scare him away, he was always there. Patient. Kind. Unassuming. Totally different from the arrogant jerk I’d initially thought he was.

  He settled back into the couch and propped his feet up on the footstool, his arm thrown companionably over the back behind me. It could have been suggestive, but with him, it felt right. It felt natural. There weren’t butterflies in my stomach, so to speak.

  They were more like fireflies. Lazy, fat, meandering fireflies that emitted a warm, bright glow. The light filled me from the inside out.

  “You paying attention, angel? The Falcons are playing. I know how much you can’t wait to see me on the field in that uniform.”

  I smiled at his off-hand comment. Well, he was still an arrogant jerk, but maybe people weren’t always so black and white. He could be arrogant, but he could also be spectacularly kind and gentle, especially with the twins.

  And—I’ll admit—with me.

  At first, I thought it was a ploy to get in my pants. It wouldn’t have been the first time a guy tried to be nice and considerate only to pull a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde deal once the sun came up. But even when I had turned him down, even when one year had passed, then two, then three, he was still the same old Tripp. Maybe a little more settled than the skirt-chaser he’d been as a freshman. But he was still Tripp.

  Still the boy who’d always made me feel…more right in my own skin.

  I couldn’t help but compare him to Chris, my one and only long-term relationship.

  With Chris, it had been nice, not fireworks like I’d imagined, but I’d liked giving him pleasure. I liked the connection forged during intimacy. But it’d never been…I don’t know…entirely comfortable. Now that I thought about it, sex had always been about making sure his needs were met instead of exploring ours together. He’d certainly never made my pleasure a focus.

  Not how I was imagining it’d be like with Tripp.

  I let my mind wander, letting myself consider being with him in a way I never had before. How gentle he’d be, but at the same time, how thorough and demanding. There’s no way he’d ever let me stop without coming first, like he’d said. I could almost see the intensity his expression would hold as he watched me tip over the edge.

  It was wrong.

  But it felt so right.

  I shifted on the couch beside him, glancing to make sure he didn’t see how clearly turned on I was becoming. Even in the thin camisole and yoga pants, I was overheating. Thankfully, he was engrossed in the game on the TV and wasn’t paying me any mind.

  At some point, his arm had drifted down to my shoulder, and he’d begun twirling my hair in his fingers. This time, I couldn’t stop the shiver. Automatically, he shifted closer as though to share his warmth to alleviate the chill.

  The fireflies in my stomach doubled. No, quadrupled.

  Did it make me a terrible person because I wanted to lose myself in him? I wanted those strong arms around me, wanted to wrap myself in the comfort he offered, to blot out everything going wrong in my life. Aside from the twins and my friends, he was the one bright spot. How had I not seen it? Maybe I’d been too afraid to look too closely.

  “You’re staring at me,” he said, and I blinked. At some point, he’d stopped watching the game. Probably around the time I had started fantasizing about him.

  My cheeks heated. “I’m sorry. I’m totally zoning out.”

  “That’s alright, angel. You’ve got a lot on your plate.” His trademark Cheshire grin softened, and I made a split decision.

  I kissed him.

  I blamed the fireflies.

  The moment our lips touched, I knew it was a mistake, but that didn’t mean I pulled away. No, pulling away was an impossibility. I was helpless to correct it.

  I’d be lying if I said I’d never fantasized about kissing Tripp before. Especially in the beginning, when it was harder to resist him after we first met. But this kiss? This kiss…was worse than anything I could have ever imagined.

  Because I never wanted to stop.

  Tripp, however, didn’t have the same problem. His hands, which were buried in my hair, cradled my head as he shifted backward. “Ember?” He opened his mouth, but no other words came out. It was as though he knew if he said anything else, it would break the spell that had surrounded us since our lips touched.

  A heartbeat passed, and the sound of it blotted out my sense of reason.

  We reached for each other at the same time, a synchronized movement we hadn’t planned. Our lips met, needy and inevitable. Desperation superseded finesse, and I climbed into his lap without any thought for grace or seduction.

  The announcer on the TV blared in the background, but as Tripp’s hands drifted down to dig into my hips, the sound faded into oblivion.

  There was only us, and nothing had ever felt so right.

  Tripp broke off, breathing heavily. “Wait, stop. What are we doing?”

  I tugged him down, twisting so that his weight was on top of me, pressing me into the couch. When he dodged my lips, I made do with his throat. His skin was salty and sweet. Like caramel popcorn. I loved caramel popcorn. I licked up his throat to his ear. When I reached it, I breathed, “Shh. Less talk, more kissing.”

  “Em, you don’t mean that.”

  My hand found the vulnerable skin at his waist that was bared by his shirt. I slid my hand underneath, my fingers grazing the dusting of hair on his belly that I knew would be golden brown. God help me, but I wanted to nuzzle in it. Lick my way
down beneath his jeans. I wondered if the hair there was dirty blonde, too.

  “I mean it, probably more than I’ve meant anything in a long time.” His words ended on a harsh inhalation as my hands found his waistband and danced underneath. “You’re confused because of Chris. Ember, don’t. You’re going to regret this tomorrow.”

  He looked down at me with a stern expression, but I barely heard what he was saying. “I’m not confused about anything,” I insisted.

  When my hands continued to explore, he growled and pinned them on either side of my head. “Think about it. You’re kissing me. You. Kissing me. The one who basically turned me down for years. Years.”

  “I don’t want to think about it. All I do is think. All day, every day. This is the first thing that’s felt good in a long time.” I strained against him and watched his lashes flutter. “Doesn’t it feel good?”

  “Hell yes it feels good, but that doesn’t mean we should be doing it.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Isn’t that exactly why people do it?”

  Tripp laughed and looked annoyed about it. “What’s gotten into you today?”

  “Apparently, not you.”

  Fine, if he wouldn’t move, I would. I lifted my hips so that he was positioned between them, where I could feel the bulge he couldn’t deny was there. He hissed again. “Ember, stop.”

  “I don’t want to stop. That’s the point.”

  “You didn’t say that a couple days ago. In fact, for the past few years, you’ve been putting the brakes on me pretty regularly.”

  I frowned at him. Since when was he so logical and reasonable? “Do we have to analyze it? Everything in my life is so screwed up. The only thing I know I can count on is you. The only thing that makes me feel good aside from my sisters is you. If you don’t want me, then you can say so, and we’ll stop right here, right now, and go back to the way things were.” I stopped and swallowed hard. I hadn’t meant to say that. What if he didn’t want me? I wasn’t sure I could handle the rejection on top of what had happened with Chris. I was going to say more, but the words wouldn’t come.