“Wolfe?”
“Huh?”
“I asked if there was any Diet Coke left?”
“Oh yeah, here.” He slid over the soda and got himself back together. “I got us some movies to watch tonight. Figured we both needed a lazy evening.”
“I’m not watching Fast & Furious sequel one million.”
“No, I got stuff you like. Shall We Dance. The Notebook. Steel Daffodils.”
“Magnolias.”
“Right.”
She glared at him suspiciously. Her full lips wrapped around the straw and sucked. The room misted for a few seconds, and Wolfe remembered the exact heat and pressure of those lips around his cock. How sweet and erotic the sight of Gen on her knees was, giving so much pleasure until—
He jumped from the table, turned on the faucet, and began splashing cold water over his face. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked.
“Hot flash.”
“You’re not even menopausal yet.”
“Ha-ha. Men get them, too.” He shook off the clinging droplets, switched to puppies in shelters as his go-to image, and sat back at the table. He would do this or die.
“I don’t feel like watching weepy chick flicks,” she said. “Can we channel surf?”
“Sure. Or we could play Scrabble.”
“Too brain-dead.” She switched from soda to beer, taking a long sip and sighing in pleasure. “I did my first mixer at the Purple Haze. It was fun. Lots of work to make sure things go smoothly, but there’s nothing like watching that first meeting. The hope each one has to find love. Gets me every time.”
He shifted in his seat. “Yep.”
“I’m thinking of telling Kate to try again. Find me another date. I think I had the wrong approach with Charles. I was looking to confirm my sexuality, but no man can do that for me. I need to do that for myself.” Her blue eyes glittered with memories that matched his. “You helped me see that.”
His skin burned and his heart pounded and his palms sweat. “G-glad you finally realized it. You think you’re ready to get back out there?”
Her gaze hit him like an arrow. “I think I’m ready to try.”
His mouth went dry, so he took a long slug of beer. “Right. Yeah, probably a good idea. To get back out there.” The words fell flat and a bitter taste stuck in his mouth. What did he expect? He’d been the one to say they had no relationship other than friendship. It would be good for him to finally let her go and stop trying to protect her. Forget the jealousy and possession. That was only for lovers. Boyfriend and girlfriend. Shit like that.
He directed the rest of the conversation toward neutral subjects, cleaned everything up, and waited while she showered and changed. Her pj’s were almost the same, comfy flannel shorts and a tank top. No bra. Her nipples pushed against the soft fabric, tempting and inviting his lips to suck and lick and bite.
But he didn’t. Friends didn’t do that.
They took their beers to the couch and stretched their legs out on the table, and he gave her the remote. He kept his gaze off her bare legs and pinned to the screen. They settled on House Hunters. He groaned enough to give the impression of surrendering, but damned if that stupid show hadn’t hooked him good. He usually couldn’t fall asleep until he knew which house the couple picked.
Gen scoffed at house number two. “Did you see that? The guy doesn’t care what his wife wants. The kitchen is a mess, and he’s only focused on having a man cave. Selfish jerk.”
“Give me a break. She’s all crazed about having a billion people over for parties. Wanna bet how many parties they have? A handful. Not with three kids—they have no time to entertain.”
“Maybe if he helped her more in the kitchen instead of relaxing in the man cave, they’d have more people over.”
“Maybe if she’d give him some alone time without nagging constantly, he’d help enough to throw the parties.”
She scoffed. He snorted.
Wolfe relaxed. They settled into their usual playful banter, and hope gleamed bright over the horizon. They could do this. Once they retrained their bodies not to respond, he was sure their strong friendship would triumph.
The couple picked the house with the good kitchen. Gen whooped, while he tried to look cranky and fight a smile.
The channel clicked.
The couple flashed over the screen. The girl was in a man’s button-down, bare legs, hair messed. The guy held her tight, lifted her up, and suddenly they were in the bed. No. No. Why did this movie look so familiar? He prayed she’d change it, but the remote rested in her lap, her shorts hiked up enough to show off miles of thigh, leading to the center. All roads leading to sweet heaven.
“Remember this movie?” she asked a bit breathlessly. “I love Timberlake!”
No. Way.
Friends with Benefits.
The plot was a nightmare. Best friends who decide to sleep together without getting involved in a real relationship. His muscles tightened. “Kind of lame, huh?”
“I liked it.” They watched in silence as the couple kissed passionately and began ripping off each other’s clothes. The air grew hot, his skin itched, and he wondered if he was going to lose his mind. He slugged down more beer.
One glance over told him the worst. Gen was aroused. Her nipples were tight and hard, pressed against her tank. Her pulse pounded at the base of her neck. If he looked into her eyes, he was positive her pupils would be dilated. Her lips would be moist. And if he slid a hand under those shorts, under her panties, he’d find her drenched, tight, and throbbing. For him.