“You are not the problem,” she states. “You are amazing and Ashley is an idiot.”
“Your name-calling is much less aggressive than your husband’s,” I inform her.
“Well, yeah,” she says, and I can picture her rolling her eyes. “Want me to step it up a notch? I can be meaner.”
I shake my head, completely fucking enamored. She’s made me feel better in the space of a few minutes than I’ve felt in… I don’t even know, months? “Sometimes I can’t get you out of my head.”
She falls silent again, but this time I doubt it’s companionable. For her, anyhow. I’m drunk as fuck; it’s just fine for me.
Instead of responding, she pulls in a moment later. I shield my eyes with my hand and look at her car as she navigates into a spot in front of me, then I walk around to the passenger side and open up the door. I practically fall inside, yanking the door shut and narrowly missing my foot.
“Fuck, I am drunk.”
“I figured,” she says, lightly, reaching over and absently patting my thigh. “You okay? If you’re going to be sick, please do it outside the car. I know Sebastian loves you and all, but he will kill you if you vomit in my car.”
I lean my head back and smile up at her. “I’m good.”
“Okay,” she says, laughing a little. “Put your seatbelt on.”
“Thank you for coming to get me,” I tell her.
“Anytime, Griff.”
I force myself to sit upright and buckle the belt around me. Moira waits, then puts the car in reverse and drives me back to her house.
Their house.
The house where Seb lives with his perfect wife who would never cheat on him.
Fucking Seb.
I love the guy, so I hate being jealous of him, but I am. The ache I felt years ago feels so much worse tonight. I was wrong about her getting dressed—the rustling must have been the sound of the bedclothes, because right now she’s dressed in a satin nightie—baby blue, like her eyes. God, she looks good. I want to forget she’s married to my best friend. I want to push her up against the wall, hike up that nightie, and fuck her until she’s crying out my name instead of his.
She shoves her key into the lock and opens the front door for me to come inside while she pushes buttons on the alarm. I follow her inside the darkened entryway, but fuck, I can’t keep my eyes off her. She offers me a little smile and takes her jacket off, hanging it on the coat rack. Then she moves up behind me and peels off my overcoat, hanging it up beside hers and Seb’s.
“Come on,” she says quietly, taking my hand and guiding me to the staircase. It’s not a far walk, but I’m so drunk she must not trust me to get there on my own. She lets go so she can walk ahead of me, but she glances back to make sure I don’t miss the first step.
If she looks back at me again, I miss it. My gaze starts at her bare legs, then drifts up to the short little nightie she’s wearing. She should not have walked in front of me. I can see practically all the way up…
Fuck me. She isn’t wearing panties. I’m at least 90% sure she is not wearing panties.
Seriously? She couldn’t pause long enough to pull on panties before coming to get me? Now I’m just thinking about the whole time she was driving me home, when she was sitting there with her exposed thighs and her panty-free ass and I was too drunk to notice.
Of course, not noticing is the right reaction. I should definitely not be noticing that my best friend’s wife has a bare pussy and a nightie so short it barely skims her ass.
Unaware of my thoughts, Moira opens the door to the guest bedroom and walks in ahead of me. “I made it up earlier in case you came over for the movie,” she tells me, glancing back over her shoulder. “So everything is nice and fresh for you. You have your own bathroom right through here,” she adds, pointing to the door. Her gaze wanders over my chest. “If you need a fresh suit in the morning, you might be able to wear one of Sebastian’s. You’re a little bit bulkier than he is, but it might work.”
“Nah.” I shake my head. “I’ll go home and get clothes. Thanks, though.”
Moira nods, but she looks reluctant to leave. “Do you need anything?”
Since I’m feeling ornery, I can’t stop a very bad idea from tumbling out of my mouth. “You could help me get undressed.”
Her eyebrows rise and her mouth opens just a couple inches, but then she catches herself and steps forward. “Sure, no problem.”
This is a mistake. This is a terrible idea. I look down at her as she stops right in front of me. When she looks up at me, uncertainty is written all across her pretty face. She hesitates before finally reaching for my jacket and pushing it down over my muscular shoulders. She swallows audibly and shakes the wrinkles out of it with impressive focus. She takes a step back, sets it aside, then comes back to stand in front of me. She looks up at me again, and I can’t help reading into those little glances. What is she thinking?
I don’t mean to ask, but my brain overrides my hesitation. “What’s on your mind, Moira?”