Page 97 of Make Me Want it Too

Am I falling in love with Wood?

No. He’s just extremely good looking. And nice. And caring. And funny. And he smells so good. And the sex is amazing. Mind-blowing.

That’s it.

It’s the sex.

This is all chemical. It’s the endorphins and serotonin that’s making me feel falsely attached to him.

It will pass.

But I don’t want it to pass! a voice screams in my head. This is the happiest I’ve been in... I wrack my brain trying to conjure up a memory. But I can’t. I’ve never been this happy.

Maybe he’ll want to keep doing this…after the wedding. Like, a friends with benefits type thing? How do I ask for that?

And will he still call me “love” and hold my hand and kiss my temple and hold me possessively around the waist like he does now? Probably not. That would definitely cramp his busy social life. It’s not like he’s hurting for female company or ever lonely on Friday nights.

The whole point of friends with benefits is that it’s non-committal. So, he’d still be dating other women. I don’t think I could handle that. Seeing him be affectionate with someone else. Even if I don’t see it, just knowing that he’s with someone else.

Sleeping with someone else.

Waking up next to them. Naked in each other’s arms, like we are right now.

Just the thought makes my stomach churn.

Because I don’t just want the sex. I want all of it. I want his time and attention. His smiles. His kisses. The girlfriend treatment. And I don’t want to share. I don’t want him with anyone else and I don’t want anyone else.

Son of a biscuit.

I want to be his girlfriend. For real.

I wish he felt the same.

His eyelids twitch and his hand moves over mine on his chest before he opens his eyes. So blue. So gorgeous.

“Morning, you.” He smiles lazily then laces our fingers together.

“Morning,” I say, my voice froggy.

We move our hands together, turning them in the morning sunlight, lacing and unlacing our fingers, watching them slide and slip past each other. Then Wood brings my hand to his lips and kisses my palm, then the inside of my wrist, right on the pulse point.

But when he moves in to kiss me, I rear back. “I have morning breath.”

He laughs. “Two morning breaths cancel each other out.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

He smiles and leans in anyway. “Let’s give it a try and see.”

Wood rolls on top of me and kisses me with deep tongue strokes, interlocking our fingers over my head, his body pressed against mine.

I open my legs to him, and he takes the unspoken invitation, already hard and eager for me.

If this is our last day, I’m going to try and enjoy it.

Our morning activities gave Wood quite an appetite.

At brunch, he has no less than four plates of food sitting in front of him. A stack of pancakes dripping with butter and maple syrup, a pile of bacon, seven sausage links, four over-easy eggs, loaded hashbrowns, a yogurt parfait with fresh fruit and granola, and an English muffin slathered with raspberry preserves.

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