We were friends… until I kissed her.
Friends.
Ha! I never once thought of her as my friend. I’ve wanted her since the moment I first saw her. The only thoughts I had where she was concerned involved us naked and her screaming my name. Over and over again.
But like the idiot I am, I waited too long to make my move. She started dating some jerk and I remained in the friendzone.
They’re not together anymore, though. So when I spot her standing in the bookstore, looking hot as hell, I don’t hesitate. This may be my only shot with her so I’m not going to blow it.
Only, that’s exactly what I do.
Because instead of moving slow, I end up devouring her lips and taking her back to my place. Worshipping her for hours. And almost letting my true feelings slip.
Would that be so bad?
Yes. Because she’s made it clear that we’re friends, even if we can’t seem to keep our clothes on when we’re around each other. Which is why we’re sneaking around.
If she only knew how I really felt, maybe things would be different.
Then again, opening myself up to her could expose my darkest secret. One that I haven’t even shared with my friends, my brothers, the people who know me the best.
Telling her could also set me free. Because when I’m with her, that’s how I feel.
Free.
Of the burden. Of the memories. Of my reality.