What Happens Between Friends (7 page)

Her eyes fluttered closed. She hadn’t known, had never imagined that his kiss would be so potent. That it would inflame her, have desire flicking along her veins like fire, burning hot and bright.

It was over all too soon. They stared at each other, both breathing hard from one simple kiss. And she knew all she had to do was drop her hands, step back and he’d let her go. That would be the end of it, the end of this—whatever it was. Whatever it could have been.

“Jamie?”

“Hmm?”

“I think...” She swept her tongue across her bottom lip, watched as his eyes narrowed. “I think I’m about to hit another of those bumps in the road.”

He smiled, the easy smile she loved so much. “Mind if I tag along?”

She rose onto her toes, pressing fully against the hard lines of his body, and tangled her fingers in the silky hair at his nape. Stopped when their mouths were so close her lips brushed against his as she spoke, his mustache tickling her upper lip. “I’m counting on it.”

His kiss was ferocious and so hungry she had no choice but to return it with equal fervor. The move of his mouth against hers, the light scratch of his whiskers and touch of his tongue, the taste of him all made it impossible to think, to consider the doubts and worries at the back of her mind. He stole it all, her words, her thoughts and her breath, with his slow, mind-drugging kisses, with the way his hand smoothed over her lower back, his other hand massaging her scalp.

Still kissing her, he lifted her in his arms. One of the dogs barked—once, twice—but even that sound seemed to come from far away. Sadie wrapped her legs around his waist, held on to his shoulders as he adjusted her weight, lifting her higher, his hands gripping her ass. He tore his mouth from hers and carried her into his bedroom, his strides long and determined.

He deposited her on the bed with enough force that she bounced once, then watched as he walked away. She was about to call him back, but he stopped at the door, jabbed a finger into the great room. “Out,” he told the dogs. “Both of you.”

Zoe went first, followed by Elvis.

Turning her head, Sadie watched his dark form as he shut the door then walked back toward her, flipping on the lamp next to the bed. The light brought with it a sense of reality, a vague hint of unease.

She was in James’s bedroom, lying...no, more like sprawled...on his bed, her lips still tingling from his kisses, her skin heated from his touch. “Wait,” she cried, holding her hand out when he approached her. “We need to...to set some limits. Some ground rules.”

Yes, that’s what they needed. He loved rules and regulations. Loved knowing what to expect. It would be better for both of them.

He climbed onto the bed, came toward her on his hands and knees, his movements slow and somehow predatory, his eyes glittering with intent. “No.”

Her mouth dropped, and she scrambled back until her head and shoulders were pressed against the wooden headboard. “What?”

“I said no.” He stopped, his knees on either side of her calves. “No rules. No limits. Not tonight. Tonight,” he continued huskily, his narrow gaze on his finger as he traced the tip of it up her inner thigh, “I want to touch you. All of you.” That finger crept higher. And higher until it slipped under the material of her shorts, his nail lightly scraping against the elastic of her panties. “Are you going to let me, Sadie?” He flicked his thumb over her center. She bit into her lower lip to stop from whimpering like a baby. “Are you going to let me do all the things I’ve dreamed of doing to you?”

Her breath shuddered out. Her fingers curled into the bedspread. Who was this man, this exciting, enticing man with the capable hands and heated kisses? She couldn’t resist him.

Bracing himself with his hands on either side of her chest, he leaned down, his mouth hovering over her breast. A torment. A promise.

“Say it,” he demanded softly. He exhaled heavily, his warm breath washing over her. Her nipple tightened and strained. He rubbed his chin over it, his beard scratching it through the material of her shirt. He lifted his head, pinned her with his hot gaze. “Say you want me.”

Her breasts ached, her core grew damp. “I want you,” she whispered, lightly touching his face, his familiar, dear face. “I want you, James.”

His grin flashed, and he skimmed his hands under her shirt, tugging the material up past her rib cage. He brushed the undersides of her breasts with his knuckles and then lifted the shirt off, tossed it aside. He rubbed the pads of his thumbs across her nipples in the faintest of touches.

He kissed her again, kept his weight braced on his arms when all she wanted, more than her next breath, was that hard body against hers, pressing her into the mattress. She smoothed her hands over his shoulders, down his arms, across his broad chest. When she grabbed the waist of his sweats and tried to bring his hips down to her, he resisted, lifted his head.

He pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of her jaw, down the line of her neck, his beard scratching her sensitive skin, bringing her senses alive. Lower and lower he went, his body sliding down hers, his lips firm and smooth as they glided across her collarbone, down the swell of her breasts.

She gripped the hard muscles of his arms, her fingers digging into his skin. His right hand cupped her breast, held it like a gift, an offering to himself. And he feasted, sucking her into his mouth. She arched her back, stabbed her hands into his hair to hold his head there.

He trailed his fingers down her ribs, across her stomach. Moved his attention to her other breast, shifted, knees pressing against her outer thighs. His touch was almost reverent as he stroked her shoulders, her arms, slid her shorts and underwear down and lightly scraped his nails along her inner thighs. Heat pooled in her lower stomach, her muscles relaxed only to tense when he gently touched her center.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she bit back a moan. She didn’t want to make any sounds, didn’t want to see. This was a fantasy, a dream. A surreal moment out of time. If she spoke, if she opened her eyes, it would be too real.

It would mean too much.

So she kept her lids closed, focused on the feel of him under her hands, the sensations of her body as he touched her, his light strokes bringing her closer and closer to the edge. As if sensing how close she was, he stopped.

And eased down her body to replace his hand with his mouth.

Her eyes flew open as she gasped. Her breathing grew ragged as she watched James, his dark head between her thighs, his strong shoulders bunching and flexing as he pleasured her. Pressure built, became almost unbearable. She squirmed, raising her hips in supplication. In a plea.

With a low growl that seemed to reverberate through her core, he gripped her thighs, lifting her to him more fully. His mouth danced over her flesh, his beard scraped pleasantly, and when he flicked his tongue over the most sensitive part of her, she threw her head back on a long, low groan, fisted her hands in his hair and flew. Pleasure coursed through her, taking her higher and higher, kept her soaring until she was spent, her body humming with aftershocks.

James kissed her forehead, her cheek and finally her mouth. His erection nudged her thigh, hard. Hot. But he just lay next to her and pulled her into his arms. Brushed her hair from her face, his touch incredibly gentle.

She could end this, here and now. She somehow instinctively understood that he was giving her a chance to change her mind, to walk away.

She couldn’t. It was going to change everything between them but, God help her, she couldn’t.

* * *

J
AMES
COULDN
’
T
CATCH
his breath. He’d lost that ability the moment he first kissed Sadie. He had the feel of her now on his hands, the taste of her on his tongue. But if this went any further, it had to be her choice. Her move.

He didn’t know what he’d do if she turned him away.

She rolled onto her side facing him, laid her hand on his cheek. He bit back a grimace. His chest ached. This was it. She was going to tell him they’d made a mistake.

He’d never seen her look so serious. Her eyes searched his and he opened himself for her, let her see everything he’d kept hidden, all of his secrets. What she meant to him, what she’d always meant to him, how much he cared about her. How badly he wanted her.

She kissed him, hesitantly at first, her lips warm and seeking. But she grew bolder, her hands sliding up and down his arms, her tongue flicking over his mouth. Though it cost him, he let her keep control. She tugged at the hem of his shirt and he leaned back so she could push the fabric up. He broke away long enough to shuck his shirt, then groaned into her mouth as she touched him.

Her hands were cool on his chest, her nails scraping lightly down his ribs. She pressed against him, her nipples brushing his skin, the incredibly soft skin on her belly against his lower stomach. His erection pulsed, leaped between them.

When her hands went to the waist of his pants, he helped her pull them down, kicked them off. Her gaze swept over him like a caress. Watching him, she skimmed a finger down the middle of his chest and across his stomach. His muscles contracted.

She shifted, those fingers going lower, lightly rubbing the narrowing path of dark hair leading from his belly button, following it to the base of his penis. Her eyes heavy with desire, the flush of her orgasm still staining her cheeks, she smiled—a small, feminine smile full of power and triumph.

And she stroked him. His hips lifted. His breath wheezed out. When she added her second hand to the mix, he grabbed her by the waist and rolled her onto her back. Reaching into the drawer of his bedside table, he took out a condom and covered himself.

Then he kissed her, settled his body on top of hers, where he’d always wanted it. Finally, those glorious curves and long, supple limbs, all that soft, sweet-smelling skin was his to touch and taste and pleasure.

He kissed her until they were both panting, their hands frantically moving over each other’s body, their skin coated with sweat. Until he thought he’d go insane with want, with need.

Holding his weight on his elbows, he waited at her entrance until she opened her eyes. Held her gaze as he entered her, inch by slow inch. Her eyes widened as he stretched her. Filled her.

Loved her.

He’d always loved her. And now he was showing her how much. After all this time, all the years dreaming of her, wanting her, the moment had arrived. He was making love to Sadie. It was real. She was hot and tight and wet for him.

For him.

His body demanded he plunge into her again and again, that he find his release. But he wouldn’t be rushed, wouldn’t let this moment be just about heat and flash. Not when he’d waited so long for it. He’d make it last, make it be enough—just in case.

Except she grabbed his ass and rolled her hips in a move that left him cross-eyed and shaking with the effort to hold himself back.

He stilled her hips with his hands, held her immobile while he drove into her, again and again, his pace slow and steady. Tension built. Her nails digging into his back, she wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing her heels against the base of his spine. He moved faster, went even deeper until her body pulsated around him.

As she shuddered with her second orgasm, her eyes wide and dark with pleasure, she called his name.

And took him over the edge with her.

CHAPTER SIX

H
E
WAS
ALONE
.

James flopped onto his back, threw his arm over his eyes, let his other arm hang over the edge of the bed.

Shit.

It was barely nine o’clock and Sadie wasn’t still in his bed. After they’d made love, she’d fallen asleep in his arms. He hadn’t been able to sleep, had been too afraid she’d slip away from him, that the whole night had been nothing more than a dream. He’d finally drifted off only to wake up a few hours ago to find Sadie wrapped around him.

He’d made love to her again, slow, sleepy sex.

He could still hear the sounds she’d made when she’d come.

Zoe licked his fingers. Except when he reached for her head to give her a pat, it wasn’t his dog’s long, soft fur and pointy snout he felt. He sat up. Frowned at Elvis.

Goddamn it. She’d taken off, left him to deal with the dog on his own. He kicked off the sheet that’d tangled around his legs. Yanked his sweatpants on commando style and stormed out into the great room.

No Sadie. Just his own dog whining by the front door.

His mouth tight, he unlocked and opened the front door. Both dogs raced out. James stepped onto the cold, wet porch and shielded his eyes from the rising sun.

And noticed Sadie’s Jeep still parked behind his truck.

His hand slowly dropped back to his side. Relief filled him, weakened his knees. She hadn’t run off, her usual M.O. when faced with a potentially awkward situation, one she didn’t want to deal with.

She was still here.

At the sound of footsteps, he went back inside, saw her coming down the stairs, her large suitcase in one hand, the blue bag he’d gotten out of the car for her at his mom’s in the other. She had on another of her long, flowing skirts, a pastel pink this time with a creamy white tank top edged in lace. Her hair was pinned up on the sides but fell loose down her back.

She looked up and, noticing him watching her, waiting for her, froze.

“Good morning,” he said, thankful his quiet tone was easy, that it didn’t give away his fears.

“You’re awake,” Sadie said, her expression unreadable.

Good sign or bad? He wasn’t sure. Was almost afraid to find out. But he wasn’t like her. He couldn’t hide from something, even if it had the potential to cause him pain. Besides, he was optimistic enough to think, to hope, things would work out for the best.

That after what they’d shared last night, things would work out exactly how he wanted them to.

So he smiled, ignored how wary she seemed as she descended the stairs and set her bags by the door.

“You look pretty,” he said, giving her the words he’d always wanted to share. The compliments he’d kept to himself for fear he’d give himself away. He dipped his head and sniffed the side of her neck, told himself not to take it personally when she stiffened. He straightened, kept that damn smile on his face. “Smell pretty, too.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, mimicking her solemn tone. That, at least, earned him a flicker of a smile. He’d take what he could get. When it came to Sadie, he had always taken what he could get. He’d always wanted more.

Was afraid he always would.

But last night, things had changed between them. He wouldn’t let her uneasiness or nerves force them back to how it used to be between them.

“Why don’t I get dressed?” he asked, ignoring the image of his to-do list that flashed in his mind. “We can go out, grab some breakfast.”

“I’d better not.” Her gaze met his then skipped away. “I thought I’d stop by the store. See Mom about my staying with them.”

“She’s working? On a Sunday morning?”

“The store doesn’t open until eleven on Sundays, but you know Irene. Always early.”

“You don’t have to go,” he said, kicking himself for ever bringing it up last night. For sounding as if he was begging now. “Forget I said anything about it.”

“No, no. You were right,” she said, crossing her arms and staring out the narrow window next to the door. “About my not staying here. God, I never should’ve asked, I mean, what an imposition on you.”

He went behind her, turned her to face him. “You’re not an imposition,” he murmured, sliding his hands up her arms. “You’re a temptation.”

Her mouth parted. He lowered his head.

And she leaped back as if he’d just set her hair on fire.

Shit.

His optimism and his stomach dropped. “Sadie—”

“Could we...” She shook her head. Inhaled deeply. “Jamie, we really need to talk.”

“Mind if I make some coffee first?”

He needed the caffeine, and the few minutes it would give him to work out how to convince her not to say what happened between them had been a mistake. Because that’s exactly what he saw on her face. Regret.

Without waiting for her to answer, he went into the kitchen. Kept his hands busy with the coffee preparation—fill the pot, measure out grounds, start the machine. While it brewed he grabbed two mugs, took the milk from the fridge, set the sugar on the island.

He sensed the moment she came into the room, felt the tension that thickened the air.

When he turned, she was still standing on the threshold between the kitchen and great room, looked ready to bolt at the slightest provocation. He handed her a full cup.

“Why don’t we sit down?” he asked, indicating the stools.

She took the cup and looked as if she had no idea what to do with it. “I can’t sit. I’ve got too much bottled up inside of me to be still. But you go ahead.”

Sipping his coffee, he sat while she began to pace, her skirt whirling around her legs when she turned. She flitted from one corner of the kitchen to the next, mumbling under her breath. Finally, she nodded as if to herself, stopped and faced him. “Last night was...it was...” Part of him wanted to help her out, to be that nice guy, her good buddy by filling in the silence for her. But another part, a part he hadn’t realized was so strong, so serious, refused to make this easier on her. So he waited, watched her carefully. She had dark circles under her eyes, and that gave him a pang of regret.

More than that, it hurt to know she obviously didn’t feel the same way about him, about what had happened between them.

She crossed to stand on the other side of the island, as if needing that barrier between them. “Last night,” she repeated, sounding a bit crazed, “was good—”

“Good?”

She blushed. “Okay, it was...” She waved a hand through the air as if to wipe away everything they’d said so far. “Look, that’s not the point. The point is that it can’t happen again. Obviously.”

“It’s not obvious to me.”

“It was a mistake, Jamie. We got...caught up in the moment.”

“What do you want from me?” he asked calmly, despite the turmoil inside of him. “You want me to agree with you? To do...what? Pretend it never happened, that I don’t want it to happen again? Because I can’t do that. I won’t.”

“James, please. This is the sort of thing that tears friendships apart. Can’t we just let it go? We don’t have to pretend it never happened, but we both need to know it can’t happen again. I don’t want anything to change between us. I don’t want to lose you as my friend.”

He didn’t want to lose her, either. But in order to keep her as his friend, keep her in his life, they would have to go back to the way they’d always been. He would have to forget he’d ever touched her, had her moving beneath him. He would have to continue to keep his feelings to himself, bottled up inside of him, letting them eat him alive.

He could do it. He could swallow it all down, had been doing it for years, for all his life it seemed. He’d kept his feelings hidden, pretended to be just her friend, listened to her problems, heard about her relationships with other men.

Watched her walk out of his life again and again without so much as a backward glance.

Yes, he could do it. But he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t live half a life, not even for her. Not anymore.

“What if I want it to change?” he asked, watching her intently. “The dynamics between us?”

“What?”

“What if I want us to be more than friends? We could make it work, Sadie. We’re already good together, and last night proved there’s something between us.”

She began pacing again. “That’s the problem. Don’t you see? Last night is going to mess up what we’ve got going here.”

“And what’s that?”

She whirled on him, her hair fanning out before settling around her shoulders. “What’s that? How about our friendship? We’ve been friends for twenty years. Do you really want to risk that? Lose it?”

“Maybe it’s time to let our relationship take its natural evolution. Maybe I want it to.”

“Why on earth would you want that?”

He looked at the counter then raised his head and met her eyes. And told her the truth. “Because I want a family. A wife. And it just hit me that the reason I don’t have one yet is because I never let another woman get close to me. But mostly,” he admitted softly, “I’m tired. I’m tired of being alone. And I’m tired of pretending that all I feel for you is friendship.”

* * *

S
ADIE
WENT
HOT
then cold all over. Her thoughts spun, her stomach turned. She wanted to run, to escape from James’s steady gaze and his patient voice. He was confused, she thought frantically, panic coating her throat, making it difficult to breathe. Hadn’t she known sex would ruin things between them?

She should have resisted him last night. Should have been stronger. Instead, her weakness was costing her everything.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked hoarsely, hugging her arms around herself. “Why are you saying these things?”

He stood and walked toward her. She shook her head, held out her hands, but he kept coming. She backed up, but was trapped with the counter behind her, James—shirtless and barefoot—in front.

He wrapped his fingers around her upper arms, lifted her onto her toes, his heat burning her skin. She wanted to touch the smooth, golden skin covering his chest, to once again press her lips against the flat planes of his stomach just to feel his muscles quiver underneath her.

She curled her fingers into her palms, tightened them until her nails bit into her skin.

“I’m doing it,” he said, his voice soft, his eyes searching, seeking something she wasn’t sure she could give him, “because I’m in love with you.”

She flinched. “Jamie, I—”

He let go of her so quickly she stumbled. “Christ, I tell you I love you and you go white. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She hated hurting him. Hated knowing she had the power to do so. “I’m—” Shocked. Scared to death. “God, you can’t just...toss something like that out there and then expect me to know what to do.”

He stared at her, calm and long-suffering. As if every day he threw an emotional grenade at somebody and then stood back to watch the fallout. She used to envy his ability to remain so centered and in control. But not today. Not when her feelings were so raw, her emotions ragged.

“Look,” she said, “this is all just...residual...emotions from last night. You’re confusing sex with love and—”

He laughed. He actually laughed.

So glad to see she could still amuse him.

“I’m a grown man. I think I know the difference between sex and love. This has nothing to do with last night. All that did was show me I needed to speak up. Before, when I thought I didn’t have a chance, I kept my secret. But last night proved you have feelings for me, too.”

This was too much. Too much pressure. There was too much at stake. “Of course I have feelings for you.” Tears clogged her throat. She cleared them away. “You’re my best friend. I love you.”

“Don’t.” Though it was barely a whisper of sound, the force of the word, the vehemence, caused the hair on her arms to stand on end. “Don’t give me some goddamn pat response like that. I’m in love with you. I always have been.”

“What do you want from me? What do you want me to say to that?”

“I’m not asking you to give me words that aren’t true or to make promises you can’t keep. All I’m asking is for you to give me a chance, to give us a chance. To see if there’s the possibility that you have more for me in your heart than you realize.”

He asked for too much. Expected too much. She didn’t have that much to give, not for him, not for any man.

For the first time, she wished she did.

But she refused to lead James on that way, letting him think they might have a chance at something down the road. How could they when she didn’t plan on staying in Shady Grove? He wanted a family, to be settled, and settled was the very last thing she wanted to be. Ever. There were still so many things she wanted to do with her life, so many places she wanted to visit, so many things she hadn’t explored yet.

She wouldn’t give up her freedom. Not for anyone.

She couldn’t love someone that much. If she did, she’d lose her independence. She’d lose herself.

“I can’t,” she said, her voice unsteady. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

It was worse, so much worse seeing the acceptance on his face. The pain. Pain she’d caused.

“Yeah,” he said on a soft exhale. “I’m sorry, too.”

Gripping the counter, he lowered his head. Her heart broke for him. And for herself.

She touched his back, to offer comfort, to let him know she still cared.

He recoiled, then straightened and walked out of the room.

She hurried after him, caught up to him as he let the dogs back inside. “James? Jamie, can we at least—”

“You need to leave.”

She blinked and stopped in her tracks. Not because his voice had been harsh. James was never harsh. He was too kind, too tolerant. Too good for her.

He was also walking away from her. Again.

She followed him to his bedroom, stood in the doorway as he yanked on the shirt he’d been wearing last night. “I’ll take Elvis to my mom’s,” she said. “I can come back in a few hours. Or we can go out—”

“No.”

“Okay, we’ll stay in. I could bring some groceries, make my famous fish tacos—”

“Sadie,” he said, something final in his soft voice making her pause, her stomach to cramp. “I don’t want you to give me a few hours by myself. I don’t need time to gather my thoughts or get over this. What I need is for you to leave. And I don’t want you to come back.”