Page 60 of Don't Fall For Your Best Friend

I climb into bed and pull her against me, pressing my lips to hers. “No, it’s just as sexy.”

She giggles, resting her head on my shoulder. “You’re crazy.”

“Crazy about you,” I admit, kissing the top of her head.

We hold each other, both lost in thought. I don’t know where we go from here, but it’s different now. Now that I’ve been inside her, tasted her, know her sounds, fuck, there’s no going back. I can’t just sit in the friend zone anymore.

I just need to know if she feels the same.

“Hartford, I want you to come to Sunday dinner tomorrow.”

She pulls back and searches my face. “I haven’t been to a Sunday dinner at your parents’ house in years.”

I rest my hand on her cheek. “I know, but I want you there.”

“Sure, I mean, of course, but…” She stops and chews her bottom lip.

“But what?” I push.

“What will everyone think?” she whispers.

“Think about what?”

“Nothing. Nevermind.”

I shake my head and roll her over, climbing on top of her. “Finish your thought, Hart,” I say, staring down at her.

She swallows nervously and rests her hands on my chest. “I just worry that they may get the wrong impression.”

My chest aches from hearing her words because she’s not where I am. This is just fun research for her, but for me…it’s life-changing.

So, like I’ve done for years, I put a smile on my face and lie. “There’s no wrong impression, Hart. We’ve been best friends since kindergarten. My family loves you, probably more than me, so what’s the big deal?”

She smiles, nodding her head. “You’re right. It’ll be fun.”

I kiss her lips, just to see if she’ll still allow me, and she does. She wraps her arms around me, and I deepen the kiss.

She’s a gorgeous, confusing puzzle.

The scent of garlic and sauce greets us as we step into my parents’ house. Sunday dinner has always been non-negotiable. It doesn’t matter what you have going on, on Sunday, your ass will be at Mom and Dad’s. I’ve missed some over the years because of traveling, and I still catch shit for it.

In fact, I’ve missed the past two weeks because of work, and I’m sure I’ll get major criticism for it. I’m hoping with Hartford at my side it’ll soften the blow.

“Hartford, what a wonderful surprise,” my mom, Carol, says as we walk into the kitchen. She pulls her in for a hug, then me.

“I figured it’s been much too long since she joined us, and considering she’s staying with me, it’s only fair she eats good at least one day a week,” I say.

My mother slaps my arm. “You better be feeding her properly. She’s out of her house, Paxton Atwood.”

“I’m kidding, Mom. Of course, I’m taking care of her.”

My eyes slide to Hartford’s and a slight blush creeps across her cheeks. I took care of her three times last night and once this morning, as a matter of fact.

“He’s been amazing, Carol,” Hartford says with a small smile.

“Well, that’s good to hear. I raised my boys to take care of and respect women,” she says, putting her hands on her hips.

“Maybe you should’ve tried harder,” Anya says, walking up behind me.

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