by Kate Hunt
“Hunter,” I moan. “Oh my God. Hunter.”
He squeezes my ass again and pumps into me faster.
I can feel an orgasm already starting to build. My heart races like mad as he pushes me closer and closer to that hot, irresistible edge. We’re both breathing hard and fast as he slams into me, his fingers digging deeper into my asscheeks.
“I’m close,” I gasp.
“Oh, God,” he groans.
“Hunter,” I cry out. And then an orgasm crashes over me. The pleasure is unbelievable. Gasping for air, I hold him tight as he keeps driving urgently into me. Soon, with a final shudder, he sinks into me and curses as he comes, his hot breath warming my ear.
We stay pinned together on the wall for several minutes, our breathing ever-so-slowly going back to normal. I love listening to the sound of his heartbeat. I love the feeling of his still-hard cock inside of me—the feeling of us being one.
Eventually, he pulls out of me. We both straighten ourselves up. I don’t know what to say to him. What can you even say after you’ve just had hot sex with your best friend?
Finally, our eyes meet, and we both break into grins.
“That was…” I start, but trail off.
“Yeah,” he says.
Everything feels right in the world as we leave the room and sneak back into the wedding. But when we get back into the room, and as we start to interact with people again…I don’t know. Something feels off.
I can’t look at Hunter without wondering if we just made a huge mistake.
I hate that I’m having that thought, though. I really, really wish I didn’t. But it’s there. And I can’t stop it. And later, when Hunter and I are alone at our table again, I feel like I catch the same look in his eye, too.
Which freaks me out even more.
I know the adult thing to do would be to talk to him about it. To say something like, “Hey, I’m having weird feelings about what we just did. How about you?” But I’m also too scared about what might come out of Hunter’s mouth.
And so I don’t say anything at all.
About an hour later, the wedding is over, and we’re back in his car. Hunter has had the foresight to turn on his radio, so there’s no awkward silence…but still. There’s still a weirdness between us. And it lasts all the way to my apartment.
“Thanks again for coming with me,” I say, glancing over at Hunter as I unbuckle my seatbelt.
“Sure thing,” he says. He looks like he might lean across the gearshift to kiss me goodnight, but he doesn’t. “Look, Lydia…”
“Don’t,” I say quickly, panicking about whatever he’s about to say. “Let’s not talk about it. Okay? Let’s just…pretend it didn’t happen.”
I think he looks relieved. But I’m not totally sure. I’m not even totally sure how I feel. So when Hunter nods and says goodnight to me, I just say the same thing back to him and get out of the car.
We don’t talk the next day. And when Monday comes, I text him to tell him that I’m going to work from home that afternoon instead of at the coffee shop. He texts back thanking me for letting him know. When I get his text, I sigh and run my hands over my face.
Shit.
We really screwed things up, didn’t we? We were meant to be friends. Not anything more. I want to think that we can go back to the way things were before…but I honestly don’t know if we can.
I try to get work done that afternoon, but it’s hard. I just can’t fully concentrate on my writing. Around five o’clock, I finally call it quits. I wander into the kitchen to see what I can make myself for dinner, but my fridge is embarrassingly bare. So I throw on a coat and walk down the street to grab takeout. It’s sprinkling when I head out, so I throw my hood up and pick up the pace.
Of course, though, when I reach the restaurant I was craving food from, it has a sign up on the door about being temporarily closed.
Sighing, I head to the next closest restaurant that I like—which is six blocks away. By the time I get my food and am heading back, that little sprinkle from earlier has turned into a steady rain.
Rushing through the rain, I hold onto my hood to keep it from blowing back and clutch my bag of takeout in the other. I know I’m going to be absolutely drenched by the time I get back to my apartment, but whatever.
I’m only a block away from my place when a truck drives by, splashing through a huge puddle and spraying it all over me.
Seriously? Could things get any worse right now?
“Lydia!”
I look up and squint through the rain. Is that Hunter?
The figure comes closer. It is him. And he’s soaked, too. Not splashed-by-a-huge-puddle soaked, but wet nonetheless.
“Hunter?” I say. “Did you…run all the way here?”
He nods. He catches his breath.
“From the coffee shop?”
“Yeah,” he says. He takes a step closer. “Lydia…I’m so sorry I acted weird after we had sex. I regret it so much. I mean—fuck. Not the sex. I regret acting weird.”
I look up at him. Rain is still falling onto our faces, but I’m frozen still.
“I was just…in shock, I think. I never expected that to happen between us. It’s a big deal.”
I nod.
“But it’s a good big deal,” he continues. “The best big deal. I want to be with you, Lydia. For real. God, I want to be with you so much.”
I can’t believe what he’s saying. Here I thought things were forever ruined between us. But he wants to be together? For real?
“I do, too,” I say, the words tumbling out of my mouth. I don’t have to think about them. Suddenly, I just know it. I want to be with Hunter. I’ve always wanted to be with him.
We kiss, the rain falling hard all around us. I laugh when we pull apart.
“I’ve always liked you,” I say. “I just…I didn’t think you’d want me back.”
He kisses me again. Then he grabs the takeout from my hand and takes my other hand into his.
“We’re going to drown out here,” he says.
“Come on,” I say, laughing. “Let’s go to my place.”
Chapter Seven
Hunter
6 Months Later
Me: Hey, can you meet me at the coffee shop in 15?
Lydia: Uh…aren’t they closed? It’s after 6.
Me: They’re open. Just meet me there.
Lydia: Pretty sure they’re closed. But ok.
I set down my phone and look around the coffee shop. I’m a little nervous, but mostly I’m just excited as hell. I’ve been waiting for this moment since the day Lydia and I officially started a relationship.
A few weeks ago, when I started to think about where I wanted to propose to Lydia, the coffee shop immediately came to mind. Not just during any old coffee shop work session, though. I wanted to make it special. So I talked to the owner and got him to agree to let me use the place after they closed.
Now, I’m standing in the empty coffee shop, flowers and candles all around the place. My old self would have laughed at the scene, but my new self feels like it’s just right. Being with Lydia has done that to me, I guess.
I don’t even hate the idea of having a big crazy wedding, if that’s what she wants.
The next fifteen minutes of waiting for Lydia feels like eons. And as the moment of Lydia’s arrival nears, every person who walks by out on the sidewalk gets my heart racing.
Finally, I see her.
She’s here.
My gorgeous girl.
“Hunter?” Lydia says, opening the door and slowly walking in. “What’s…all this?”
“It’s for you,” I say. I smile and walk over to her. Has she figured it out yet? She looks so amazed but also so confused.
I take her face into my hands and kiss her. Then I drop down to one knee.
“Hunter,” she whispers, drawing in a breath.
“Lydia,” I say, taking her hand. “The last six months have been amazing. You’ve always been my best fr
iend, but I feel closer than ever to you now. And I never want to be without you. As a friend, as a lover…you’re my whole world.”
“Oh, Hunter,” says Lydia, her voice cracking. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I say. “And I didn’t realize it at the time, but this is where I started to fall in love with you. Right here. Working next to you, day after day. And I want to know…will you keep working next to me for the rest of our lives? Will you marry me, Lydia?”
She laughs and falls into my arms. “I will. I so will.”
Chapter Eight
Lydia
5 Years Later
“Mommy?”
“Yes, baby?” I say, glancing into the rearview mirror. I’ve just picked up Cleo from dance class and she’s in the back seat; her little brother, Dane, is back there in his car seat, too.
“Can I have a boy as a best friend?”
I smile. “Of course you can.”
“Okay. Good. Because I have one.”
“You do, huh?” I say.
“But I’m not going to marry him,” she says, raising her voice. “We’re not like you and Daddy.”
I laugh. “Okay, baby. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Five minutes later, I pull up to the house. I get the baby out of the car seat while Cleo does pirouettes up our driveway. When we walk into the house, I’m busy thinking about what I can throw together for dinner before Hunter gets home. Between kid stuff and working on my latest romance novel, it’s been a long day and I haven’t had a chance to think about dinner yet at all.
To my surprise, though, Hunter is already there when I walk in—and so is my mom.
“What are you two doing here?” I say, kissing Hunter hello and giving my mom a hug.
“You’re officially relieved from kid duty,” says Hunter. “You and I are going out on a date.”
“Aw, babe,” I say.
I go upstairs to change into something less mom-like and more date-like, brush my hair out and put on a little makeup, then go back downstairs. Hunter grins and whistles at me when he sees me and I give him a playful swat on the shoulder.
“Mommy! You look so pretty!” says Cleo, running over to hug my leg.
“Thanks, baby,” I say. “Are you going to be good for Grandma?”
“Of course,” says Cleo, rolling her eyes at me. “I’m always good.”
Then Hunter and I are out the door, his hand on the small of my back as we walk to the car. And I don’t know why, but as we start to drive away, I think back to that day when Hunter picked me up for my sister’s wedding. So much has changed since then—saying our own vows, having two kids, buying a house—but some things, like our friendship, has stayed exactly the same, in the best of ways.
And as I’m thinking back to that day, something else occurs to me, too.
“You know,” I say, turning to Hunter, “I still owe you for being my fake boyfriend.”
He laughs and gives me a look. “Pretty sure you made it up to me already.”
“What? How?”
“Uh, by marrying me? By having my babies?”
I tsk my tongue. “Guess you have a point.”
“Not that I’d turn down anything from you,” he says, reaching over to squeeze my leg.
“What are you suggesting, mister?”
“Not suggesting anything, missy. Just sayin’.”
I take his hand into mine and squeeze. I fantasize, briefly, about all the things we’re going to do to each other when we get home tonight.
I can’t wait.
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