I’ve been trying not to write this letter, trying not to tell you how I really feel. But I can’t keep fighting it.
I’ve been thinking about the time we almost kissed nonstop. I’ve been imagining what it would be like to kiss you hard, to slide my hands over your body and fucking claim you, Lorelei. I want to claim every inch of you, have you soaking wet and needy until you’re quivering for me, until you’re gushing with the release.
I’m getting horny as fuck just writing this, and I know it’s wrong. I know I should stop. But I can’t. You drive me crazy.
The note ends there in a jagged pen stroke, as though he was going to write more but then stopped himself.
I glance up at the closed door, listening just in case mom is walking by in the hallway, when I don’t hear anything I lie back on the bed and clutch the letter in my hand, reading it over and over.
I drive him crazy.
He wants to make me quiver.
He wants to claim me.
What the heck does claim me even mean?
Whatever it is, I want it, all of it. I want his touch and his savage breath purring over my skin. I want his husky voice telling me all of this in person.
He must’ve opened the mailbox and found my magazine inside, stuffing the letter in there.
Thinking about him going through that effort just to tell me this sends tingles cascading all over my body.
I slide my hand down my stomach, close my eyes and think about Bennet’s words, thinking about how it would’ve felt if he’d crushed his lips to mine. And then slid his hands down my body and grabbed onto my ass, squeezing and massaging, as I’d shift against him, moaning urgently.
The fantasy shifts and we’re suddenly in bed, Bennet’s broad chest pressed against mine. I’ve seen him shirtless before, countless times growing up when he and dad would use his pool and I’d pretend not to be looking.
But I would watch as he rose from the pool, water glistening down his hard muscles, his abs like a series of rocks as they interlocked. His back was broad and taut with muscle, made for digging my fingernails into, dragging them down as he…
Knock knock.
I stop, my hand wedged down my pants, my fingers almost touching my sex.
“Um, yeah?” I call.
“It’s me.”
Dad’s voice is friendly, as it always is. He’s the best dad, always supporting me no matter what I choose, gathering mom in the living room so I can read aloud sections from my novel.
Countless childhood memories attack me as I lie there, moments away from touching myself to the thought of his best friend.
And not for the first time, either.
“Yes?” I say, quickly removing my hand.
“I’m going to run down to the Chinese place. I need some real food after the day I’ve had. Do you want the usual?”
“Yes, please, Dad. Thank you.”
He turns and walks away from my door, footsteps receding, and I collapse on the bed with a sigh.
There’s no way I can carry on now, not when my traitorous mind throws up horrible visions, like how dad’s face twisted in rage if he ever learned the truth. About how I feel and about what I almost did with his best friend.
But how am I supposed to ignore this feeling now that I know Bennet wants me?
Maybe it’s a trick. Maybe it’s a cruel game.
But I know Bennet. He wouldn’t do that.
He served in the SEALs for years, earning various medals. I’ve never seen him behave badly around a woman or anybody. Well… I haven’t seen him around women at all, which makes this even more special.
Of all the women he could have, he wants me. Me.
I bite down, attempting to fight the need his letter has ignited inside of me.
For dad’s sake, I have to try.
Even if I know it’s going to be impossible.
Chapter Four
Bennet
I stand backstage, outside Daisy Delilah’s dressing room.
It’s been three weeks since I made one of the stupidest moves in my life, stuffing that hastily written letter into Lorelei’s magazine inside her mailbox.
I scrawled the letter in a fit of desire, my shaft hard, my balls aching like they have been every single second since I almost claimed Lorelei with my lips. I was panting like a beast as I scrawled across the page, my blood pumping, desire roaring louder and louder each second.
Why did I send it? What did I hope to accomplish?
I was lucky Rick or Samantha didn’t see me, even if I could’ve given a reasonable excuse for why I was there.
But that’s the thing. I don’t want to sneak around behind my best friend’s back. It makes me feel like a real piece of dirt.
So why did you write the letter? And if you had to write it, why not destroy it after?