Connor puts the lasagna on the stove top. “Where’s the whipped cream?” he whispers, wrapping his arms around my waist.
Bringing my hands to his chest, I slide them up his neck. Then I cup his face in my hands and kiss him softly. “It’s already in your fridge,” I mumble, my lips brushing his. “I brought it over when I borrowed the casserole dish. Wasn’t sure what Logan would think if I walked in with a can of whipped cream and no dessert to go with it.”
“But you did bring dessert.” Connor’s husky voice wraps around my body. “I plan to lick it off of you here”—he trails his lips to the base of my neck—“and here”—his tongue darts out, making a path along the tops of my breasts—“and we can’t forget about here,” he says, slipping his hand between my legs.
I’m ready to rip my clothes off so he can fuck me right here in the kitchen, company be damned.
How in the hell does he do that?
“Connor.” I hate to admit it, but yes, I just whimpered his name.
He hoists me up on the counter and pushes my legs apart, making room for his big, sexy body.
“When you say my name like that, it makes me want to do dirty, dirty things to you.” His mouth descends and he attacks my neck. My head drops back between my shoulders, giving him better access. There is no way we’re going to make it through—
“Connor, can I get another towel?” My head snaps forward at the sound of a delicate voice—a delicate female voice. Then, as a half-naked woman rounds the corner, my heart seizes in my chest. Long, dark hair spills over her shoulders, water dripping down her bare arms, and miles upon miles of long legs are on display.
I think I’m going to throw up.
“Oh, shit.” The woman’s steps falter when she locks eyes with me. “I’m so sorry,” she says, fisting her hand in the knotted towel, just above her breasts. She looks as shocked as I probably do.
Connor groans, dropping his head to my shoulder before turning around. “Logan, this is—holy shit, woman! Go put some clothes on.”
Logan.
Connor’s best friend is named Logan.
Oh no. No-no-no-no.
“I need another towel,” she says, right before giving me a bashful smile. “I really am sorry.” She takes a step toward us and my entire body freezes. “I don’t usually”—her words trail off and she waves her hand in the air—“you know, walk around here…like this.”
I’m at a complete loss for words as she stares at me, presumably waiting for me to tell her that’s it’s all right and I understand. But it’s not all right, and I most certainly do not understand. And—oh great—now Connor is staring at me.
“You know what?” Logan says, gesturing toward the hall. “I don’t need that other towel. I’ll just…go.” She scurries off and I watch her until she disappears. I can see out of the corner of my eye that Connor hasn’t taken his eyes off me.
“Hey.” Connor puts his face in front of mine. “Are you okay?” He runs soothing hands down each of my arms, and my body stiffens. Scooting forward, I nudge him back, and when there’s enough room, I slide off the counter.
“So…” Running my shaky hands down the front of my shirt, I sidestep Connor. “That’s your best friend Logan?” I’m proud that I was able to keep my voice from wavering because, really, I don’t want Logan to be his best friend.
“It is.” Those two little words are said with so much caution that I know he knows I have a problem with it. “Are you okay?”
I would be, except you forgot to mention that Logan is of the vagina-yielding species.
My lungs fight to suck in air, but it’s getting more difficult with each passing second. Pressure builds behind my eyes and I blink several times to keep the tears at bay, though I know it’s only a matter of time. “Wow.” I blow out a long breath. “Your best friend is a woman.”
“Brittany.” Connor steps in front of me. Tilting his head to the side, he studies me. We’re not touching, but God do I want to touch him. So bad. I want him to wrap me in his arms, tell me this is all some horrible mix-up, and promise me that everything will be okay. But that won’t happen and I need to quit being so damn naïve. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that Logan was a girl. To be honest, I didn’t even think about it. She’s like a sister to me.”
Funny, Tyson said the exact same thing.
How in the hell did I not see this coming? “Of course she is,” I mumble. My heart is screaming at me not to make any rash decisions, but my heart is also the traitorous bastard that got me here in the first place.
I look at the front door and then down the hall. Logan hasn’t reemerged and I’m wondering if she has her ear pressed to a door, trying to listen. Bile rises in my throat and I swallow hard. I’m seconds away from losing my shit, and I sure as hell won’t lose it with another woman here. “I need to go,” I say, scurrying toward the front door.
“Wait.” Connor snags my wrist and spins me around. Brows dipped low, he shakes his head. “Are you upset because I didn’t tell you Logan is a girl?” he asks. “Because I would’ve told you if I thought it was going to be an issue—hell, if I’d even thought about it.” His voice is no longer gentle and careful, instead it sounds as though he’s frustrated.
Welcome to the club, buddy.
“I’m sure you would have.”