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.
They walked the rest of the way home in silence.
GEN MADE UP THE couch and tried not to mope.
She needed to get over this. They had kissed. She had liked it. Hell, she’d loved it. She’d never been so turned on in her entire life. They had touched and traded bodily fluids and now it was over. Done.
The echo of the shower running rose to her ears. The image of Wolfe naked and wet made her belly lurch and her thighs tingle. She’d been wondering if that kiss they shared on the dock in Saratoga was a freak occurrence. After all, that type of heat between friends was impossible. Right?
Instead, tonight confirmed the worst. She wanted her best friend in bed. Bad. She wanted to do all sorts of dirty things with him, and was super close to suggesting the whole friends-with-benefits package for a moment, and then he had to go mention their dates. Talk about a buzzkill.
Gen changed the pillowcase on his memory foam pillow and sighed. Wolfe was probably hot for every girl he kissed. She couldn’t think of herself as special. Hell, he practically told her he was hard up from not sleeping with someone and needed sex. Definitely an oversurge of testosterone. Add in some moody music, her body pressing into his, a seductive night with the stars, and wham. A crazy, hot kiss against a tree. Now over.
She shook her head. Time to be a big girl and not get all moody over the whole thing. Especially with him staying here. Maybe Wolfe was right. Maybe her upcoming date would work out well and take away these crazy emotions she was starting to feel. Maybe—
“Holy shit!”
She froze. The roar from the bathroom shook the tiny house on its foundation. Heart pounding, she stumbled forward, terrified he’d slipped in the tub, or cut something important, or saw a ghost with bloody teeth and eyes ready to rip him apart. Stupid Syfy channel.
Gen called out his name and reached the door. It was flung open and she caught a blur of nakedness rush past her. A puddle of water soaked the floor and steam drifted out lazily. Trying to keep calm, she stuck her head inside and looked around, but nothing seemed wrong. The water ran in the tub, the curtain was pulled back, and the mirrors were fogged. A pile of clothes lay in a heap on the floor. Towels were strewn around. Other than a mess, there was nothing in there.
“Dammit, Wolfe, you scared me. What’s going on?”
“There’s a fucking tarantula in there! I’ve never seen anything like that—don’t you clean?”
She opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought of his chauvinistic remark, then stopped. Gen recognized the tone well. He was terrified, and as much as she loved to tease him, she respected this one weakness regarding crawly, hairy bugs. She shook her head and marched back into the bathroom, grabbing a handful of tissues. “Where is it?” she called out.
“By the towels. I saw it drop down from the ceiling. Nasty motherfucker.”
She smothered a laugh and began searching for it. “Why can’t you hang the towels up on the hook? They get wet and moldy on the floor.”