HE NEEDED TO GET laid.
Bad.
Wolfe dropped her hand and eased away. Her body was so soft and womanly. She'd finally put weight back on and lost the sharp edges stress had lent her. Those killer curves were back, and his fingers itched to grab and stroke and pleasure.
The shocks were coming faster and more frequently now. Moments when their eyes met and heat surged between them, leaving him weak. What was happening between them? Every night he lay on the couch, battling sleep and imagining her in bed. Cotton nightgown twisted around her thighs. Lips parted and moist as she breathed. Those beautiful corkscrew curls falling wildly over the pillow.
He was beginning to wonder if he'd sleep better in the car.
Wolfe used to be able to put his hands on her without fuss. He'd grab her around the hips and tickle her ribs, which she despised. He'd ruffle and tug on her hair. Wrap his arms around her for a big bear hug. Sure, they'd always had a connection, but the tiny simmer had exploded into a wildfire, and he didn't know what the hell to do. What had changed? And why did he suddenly want so much more?
She must've reached the same conclusion, because she forced a smile and spoke with fake cheer. "Thanks for the defense, friend." She subtly emphasized the word as if reminding both of them their true relationship. For his sake? Or hers?
He smiled back. "Anytime. Friend."
They both turned and listened to the music. The band was pretty good, able to crank out a variety of alternative and some recognizable pop songs without sounding like karaoke. Gen swayed her hips and mouthed the words. She'd always been a great dancer, able to throw herself into the music and the moment without caring how she looked. A strange ache fluttered from his gut. What would it feel like to claim her, man to woman, rather than friend to friend? Would she explode in bed like she did in the daylight, full of energy and joy and determination to wring the most out of the moment?
The man who held her heart for keeps needed to be extraordinary. Needed to match the same inner lightness she exhibited in her soul. The memories flashed hard and painful. Wolfe scratched absently at his leather wristband, accepting he'd never be that man, never be good enough for her.
At least he'd protect her.
Even from himself.
A fierce possession reared up. Gen belonged to the world of the living; of beautiful things; of a future filled with happiness and babies and domestic bliss. This time, he'd make sure she chose correctly.
The music slowed to a moody ballad, and the pink-haired singer launched into some classic pop song he vaguely remembered from the radio. His voice held a rich baritone, lending an air of smoky nightclub atmosphere. Night folded around them, battling the blinding lights from the stage. Stars exploded in the sky. The air was heavy with the scent of popcorn, cotton candy, and damp grass. Couples began to dance near picnic blankets, bodies entwining and moving slowly together.
He blinked when she held out her hand. Her eyes yearned for something big, something he desperately wanted to give her but knew he didn't have. Wolfe fought the lump in his throat and opened his mouth to make some excuse to bolt.
"Dance with me."
Her voice echoed the singer's. Low. Raspy. Seductive. He meant to say no.
Instead, he took her hand and pulled her into his arms.
Home.
The warm comfort of familiarity mingled with the spark of sex. She didn't just fit into him, she completely consumed his space, stealing his breath and cells and heart. Wolfe held himself back, battling for distance her presence wouldn't allow. Full breasts pressed against his chest. Thigh brushed thigh. The scent of peach shampoo drifted up, reminding him of sweet juices and the first delicious bite into flesh. An animal moan rose up from his chest, ready to escape his lips in an agony of need.
Words of unfulfilled longing filled the air in the seductive tone of the singer. The low beat of drums and guitar in the background added to the scene. Back from the crowd, trapped in darkness, they were alone in the world. With a sorceress's skill, Gen wove her feminine essence around him simply by surrendering to his embrace.
He gave up the fight. Just this once.
Burying his face in her curls, he grabbed her waist and pulled her tight, his growing erection trapped between their bodies. She gasped. Wolfe wondered if she'd move away, stop the dangerous game they flirted with, but once again she surprised him. Wrapping her arms tight around his back, she arched into him full power.
He gritted his teeth against the sweet ache of need. His feet moved in a faint parody of dancing, allowing each body part to touch, tease, and slide against one another. Fingers dug into him, urging him on. Wolfe ached to slide his hand under her shorts, under her panties, and dive in. Could he scent her musky arousal or was that just his mind fantasizing? She shuddered. Oh yeah, she was wet, and needy, and wanting . . . him.
His lips had a mind of their own. He dipped his head and tasted the soft crease where her shoulder met her neck. Like powdered sugar, he craved more. His teeth nibbled on her collarbone, and she made a low, hungry noise.
"Wolfe? Oh, God, what are we doing? That feels so good."
His brain exploded. He swiped his tongue to the vulnerable curve under her cheek, opened his mouth, and bit.
Her body shuddered. She grabbed his face with shaking hands, forcing him to meet her gaze. Drugged blue eyes stared back at him. Her breath came out in uneven pants from her plump lips. She was so damn honest in her responses, so willing to give him whatever he needed. "Why am I feeling like this?" she whispered, clinging with a feminine strength he found sexy as hell. "What are you doing to me?"
"Don't know. Same thing you're doing to me." He stared at her mouth, so close, so moist. "I want to kiss you."
"Oh yes. Just this once. Yes."
He didn't wait a second longer. Just lowered his head and captured her lips. Slid over and into the slick, sweet cave, thrusting his tongue with slow, languid motions, deflowering her completely. He leaned against the tree trunk and hitched her higher, until her legs wrapped around his hips. Her taste swamped him, driving him to capture the very essence of her mouth, refusing to let her keep anything back.
She didn't. Hanging tight, she melted in his arms and surrendered completely. Her body heat engulfed him, licking flames of fire that drove him mad for more. He couldn't remember when a kiss had stolen his breath and sanity, but nothing mattered except the need to rip her clothes off, taste her everywhere, give her pleasure. Using his teeth to scrape against her bottom lip, he captured her needy moan and worked his hips in a slow, grinding thrust. She ripped her mouth off his and panted, digging her nails deep into his shoulders. She tilted her head back so he saw the wetness on her swollen lips.
"Feels too good," she panted. "Give me more."
Oh yeah.
He moved quickly, turning her so her back pressed against the rough bark of the tree. Losing his head completely, he forgot he was in a public park, forgot she was his best friend and sex wasn't an option, forgot everything except getting closer and deeper into her until he faded away.
He took her mouth again, bruising, but she kissed him back with such raw hunger and need, Wolfe shook. He gripped her head and pulled her hair, notched into the center of her thighs, and gave it all to her with everything he got.
She was wild in his arms, biting and licking back, arching up for more, until the simple kiss burned barriers and exploded out of control. Wolfe dimly heard the song ending and the smattering of applause. Low chatter and movement finally cut through the fog.
He lifted his head. Froze. Dragging in a breath, chest tight, dick so hard and swollen it could be registered as a deadly weapon, he fought for sanity.
She opened her eyes. Her pupils were dilated. When she spoke, her words came out slurred. "Wh--what happened?"
Holy shit, he did it again. The awful Britney Spears pop song clanged loudly in his head. He couldn't blame anyone but himself this time. What type of friend was he? She was vulnerable right now. Needy. He had
to suck it up, get himself under control, and be the supportive buddy she deserved.
But how would he ever look at her again without wanting to kiss her?
"Wolfe?" She blinked. "What's wrong?"
He forced a smile and slowly lowered her back to the ground. Her breasts dragged over his chest and almost caused him to weep. "Song's over." His voice came out a bit rough, so he softened the words by running a finger down her cheek. She seemed to catch his unease, and an awkward silence descended as the lead singer spoke her gratitude. Everyone clapped and began to gather their stuff, trudging out of the park. He was left with a hard-on and a cloud of confusion as he tried to decide the best route to take.
"Ready to go?" he asked.
"Sure." This time he didn't take her hand. They didn't speak. The shops were closed, the stars twinkled overhead, and their shoes clopped on the pavement. Halfway home, she finally broke. "I'd like to say I'm sorry but I'm not."
He bit back a laugh. She was always so . . . unexpected. Honest. Once again, he vowed not to destroy the most precious relationship he had. "I'm not either, sweetheart. I am sorry if we blurred the line though. Our friendship means more to me than some raging hormones. Maybe the lead singer did it. She kinda reminds me of Pink."
The joke fell flat and her smile seemed forced. "Right. We got caught up in a moment."
"This weekend will be good for us. We'll both start dating again, and release some of the pressure."
Why did her shoulders suddenly slump? He thought mentioning her date would ease her mind. He had no right to screw with her head and get her to want more.
Even if he did.
Hell, yes, he wanted more than that kiss. If he was honest, he'd confess he wanted Gen in his bed, naked, open, and ready to do his bidding. He wanted her heat and passion and sweetness. He also realized if he ever slept with her, besides wrecking their friendship, he'd never be satisfied with anyone else.
But Gen could never know or suspect. She needed to have an open mind and heart for her date. Even though the thought of another man touching her made Wolfe want to wreck his face. He'd manage not to screw it up for her sake.
Her soft sigh echoed into the night. "Guess so. I always did have a thing for Pink."
He relaxed slightly. She was playing the game. Leaving it behind them. Helping him pretend it meant nothing.
Much better this way.