Wet

But then Thursday night she provokes me by sending a picture with the group of them in front of one of those male stripper shows on Santa Monica Boulevard. It’s followed by a shot of her gri

Waiting to go in! she texts.

I grind my teeth for a minute before I can calm down enough to respond. If she’s going to provoke me, I’m giving it back.

Okay. See you inside.

Oh yeah?

Didn’t I tell you? I’m part of the show.

Then I’ll make sure and save some fives for you.

Okay, but don’t expect special treatment or anything. I’ll be working all sides of the stage.

Is that so? I bet you’re popular.

Well I don’t want to brag or anything.

You know what? I don’t want all these horny women crawling all over you.

Really? I promise to keep my G-string on.

Oh hell no. Put your loose jeans on and get your butt home.

I love that she sounds jealous.

All right, but you don’t know what you’re missing.

That’s the thing, I do.

It’s radio silence Friday and I try not to let my stupid imagination go wild. Saturday morning she texts asking me to pick her up at 5:30 for the wedding, and I’m amped to know I’ll be seeing her within hours.

I can’t believe it’s been over a week. I surrender to the fact that I didn’t figure anything out in our time apart, and I’m giving up trying. I’m as lost as I was the first time I set my eyes on her.

I take my run in the early afternoon and come home to shower and figure out the tux. It’s a long time since I’ve worn one but I have to admit, my last glance in the mirror before I set out to get Elle is pretty satisfying. I look damn good if I do say so myself.

I grab the flowers I bought this morning. I’m not sure if they’re the right thing to be giving her considering our ambiguous status, but can you really go wrong with red roses? They’re the essence of romance and women love that shit.

I’m nervous as all hell when I ring her doorbell, and damn if she doesn’t answer. It really would’ve been nice for once not to troll through her side yard. Glancing at my watch, I realize I’m twenty minutes early. I guess I was more distracted than I realized. I decide to go in the back and hope the French doors are open so I can wait inside.

When I step in her house I can hear Elle singing—wailing really, at the top of her lungs. I vaguely recognize an old A

When there’s a pause in the song I call out her name but she doesn’t answer and starts in on the song again. My gut tells me that I really should let her know I’m here, and enjoying her noteworthy performance. Hopefully she won’t be too horrified to know she’s had an audience.

I approach the bedroom suite since that’s where the singing is coming from and when I reach the entrance to the bathroom hallway I can’t take another step. Hell, I can barely breathe, and my grip tightens on the bouquet of roses.

She’s turned away from me, and swaying her hips as she sings. A second later she rests her foot on the edge of the bathtub and slowly smooths lotion over her leg in long strokes.

I swallow thickly as I watch. If it weren’t for the tiny pale lace bra and panties she’s wearing, she’d be nude, and my carnal reaction is similar to when she sent that white bikini selfie from Hawaii. I’m so instantly aroused that I’m almost disoriented. Reaching out, I rest my hand against the hall doorjamb to steady myself.

I watch her run her lotion-filled hands up her neck in slow motion, down her arms and over her hips. I wish it were my hands sliding over the soft skin of those curves. She stops singing and now hums as she turns to the mirror, and pulls a clip out of her hair so that it cascades around her shoulders.

I’m overcome with the most powerful jolt as I realize that seeing her like this in the flesh is more than I can handle. It’s pushing me off my cliff. All of these weeks I’ve been dangling from the edge with my fingers slipping and losing their grip, my legs wildly waving try to find a toehold in the jagged rock of our friendship—but I can’t fight it anymore. I’m not even sure when I finally let go, what direction I’m going to fall.

I tilt back against the doorjamb, trying to catch my breath, and silently watch her. When she looks up and sees my reflection in the mirror, her lips part. My heart is thundering so hard that I can barely hear her gasp.

She half turns and looks back at me over her shoulder. She doesn’t act embarrassed or try to hide. She studies me with a curious expression but I sense from the hunger in her eyes that she’s as turned on to see me as I am to watch her. It’s incredibly sexy that she’s so comfortable in her own skin.

The corners of her mouth edge up just slightly. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long enough.”

Her eyes grow wide as her gaze moves down my body. “Wow.”

“What?” I ask.

Her cheeks are tinged pink and her eyes narrow. “Look at you. You’re so handsome.”

I straighten up. “You like the tux?”

“I like you in it. You wear it well.”

I nod toward her state of undress as I pull on my lapels. “I’m feeling really overdressed. Maybe I should take the tux off.”

“Is that so?” she says in a low voice with an arched brow.

I notice her nipples are hard as I think of all the ways I’d like to touch her, starting there. As she watches me I don’t know if she can tell how aroused I am, but from the way the flush has moved down her neck, and how rapidly her chest is rising and falling, I’m guessing she’s getting worked up, too.

I nod. “Look at you. I could be as bare as you in a matter of seconds.”

Please say yes. I’m aching for this.

“So now you’re teasing me? We’re supposed to leave in fifteen minutes or we’ll be late for the photos.”

My mouth is dry as she places her hands on her hips. The swell of her ass holds my attention as she pivots. I want to take a bite of that perfection.

“We don’t really have to go, do we?” I reach up, wanting to loosen my tie.

For a long pause she looks like she’s going to come to me, but then she shakes her head and steps back instead. “Yes, this is one instance where bailing is not an option. Stella would never speak to me again, so please stop provoking me. You’re making me crazy with want for the very thing I can’t have right now.” She picks up a silk robe that’s draped on the edge of the counter and pulls it on, tying it shut with a defiant stare.

Damn.

She walks toward me. “Are those roses for me?”

I hold them up for her and she takes them with a smile. “They’re beautiful, thank you.”

“Are you sure about this?” I can almost hear the pleading in my voice.

She pushes my shoulder. “Quit toying with me, big boy. Go make yourself busy while I pull myself together.”

I nod and back out of the room, but damn it’s hard to finally take my eyes off her.

A few minutes later she joins me in the den. Her long, dark grey dress accentuates all her best assets, including her curvy hips and full breasts. I let out a low whistle.

Smiling, she turns for me. “You like?”

I give her an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “Now that I see you in that dress, I’m extra glad you aren’t a bridesmaid.”

“Believe me, me too.”

“Honestly though, I preferred what you were wearing a few minutes ago. But this is a close second.”

“What’s gotten into you? A week away from me and suddenly you’re amped up with all this flirty, sexy talk.” She waves her hand. “Not that I’m complaining or anything.”