Page 73 of Falling for my Brother's Best Friend

I’m not sure how long I’ve been standing there gawking when she tugs on the T-shirt, stretching the three slits over her cleavage and drawing me from my reverie.

“Say something,” she begs, her voice a lot less confident than when she went in.

“Um…”

“Ugh. I have to put these on your bike.” She holds up her wet jeans and T-shirt.

Please tell me she’s still wearing her panties. Especially with the red-and-black plaid skirt that barely covers her ass. I already know she’s wearing her bra because I can see it clearly through the gaps in her T-shirt.

Before I have a chance to ask, she’s off again, stomping out of the hallway and through the crowd to the door. We reach the fresh air. There will be next to no darkness tonight. The most we’ll get is twilight for six or so hours.

“I really think we should go home.”

She ignores me and throws her clothes in the saddlebag on my bike then tugs at her skirt.

“You don’t have to prove something to me. Is this your way of saying you’re not the OCD Savannah or something? Because I’m not comfortable with you in there”—I point toward the run-down building behind us—“in that.” I motion to her outfit, barely able to look at her without getting hard.

Who am I kidding? I’m already halfway there.

“I’m trying to go with the flow. This is your event. We shouldn’t leave just because my clothes got wet. Not when they have some available. Is it ideal? Hell no. But I’ll survive.” She turns, but I lightly touch her elbow and she circles back around. “What?”

“I’m not sure I’ll survive.” I let my meaning sink in as she blinks a few times. “I haven’t been shy about my attraction to you, and right now you’re dressed like some… I don’t even know what. A wet dream? There’s just so much skin.”

She giggles, steps forward, and puts her hand on my chest but retracts it right away. “Try not to stare.”

She’s kidding, right? She has to be. How can I not stare?

But I might as well admit defeat. How can I say “live your life” then try to shelter her in the next breath? If she’s willing to go along with it, I shouldn’t try to change her mind. A month ago, she would’ve thrown a hissy fit and reamed me out for what happened, so this is progress.

Three guys walk by and whistle, each of them envisioning her naked. I know because I’ve already done it four times.

“Fine.” I come up alongside her. “But to everyone in there, you’re my girlfriend, got it?”

She smiles at me. “I kind of like this protective side of you, Liam Kelly.” She touches the shirt I’m wearing. “Sorry. It’s all they had in extra-large.”

I look down at the woman with her legs open and shrug. “Going with the flow, right?”

“Right.” She smiles.

This is the first time in so long that I’ve glimpsed the old Savannah who loved life more than spreadsheets. The Savannah who lived in every moment while it was happening. Not the one afraid to step out of her comfort zone. It might be brief, but later that night, as I stand at her side and watch her twirling around to “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door” with not a care in the world, I wish we could stay in this moment forever.

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