Page 40 of The Best Friend Power Play

"I'm so sorry," he says once he removes them. "I didn't think you were back yet."

"Just got home." I walk over to him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I didn't want to accidentally see anything I shouldn't see, so I tried to back out of the room, but I forgot there was a wall here."

The thud I heard was loud, which can't be good for his hip. I take the basket out of his hands and drop it onto the floor.

Stepping closer, I study his face. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah." He nods, smiling tightly. "I am."

I'm not sure if I fully believe that, but I can't press him on it because the next words out of his mouth stump me.

"Is that my shirt?"

"Oh." Shoot. How do I explain this? "Um…Hot girl summer?"

I smile, hoping to mask that it came out more like a question than a statement.

"O-kay," he says, then carefully steps away from the wall and stretches to his full six-three height.

I was startled when he walked in, and then worried he'd hurt himself, so I didn't notice before that he was still shirtless.

But now?

Now it's all I can see. My vision fills with the wide span of his shoulders, his strong arms, and miles and miles of smooth, glistening skin.

I suppose I could offer him the shirt I'm wearing, but then I'd no longer be inches away from his magnificent chest, and I can't have that.

Wait. What?

What I can't do is ogle my best friend. That's a surefire way to raise suspicions I do not want to raise.

So I do the sensible thing. I drag my eyes away and look up from his spectacular, olive-skinned torso…to his sharp jawline and soulful dark-chocolate eyes.

Ugh. He's really not making this easy for me.

I tug on my shirt. Well, his shirt. Which I'm still wearing. "I'll get changed and give it back to you."

"No." His voice is firm as he takes one giant step toward me, eliminating the space between us. There's a heat in his eyes and a heaviness to his breathing that wasn't there a few moments ago. "Wear it." He licks his lips. "If it feels good…"

"It does," I whisper, my throat suddenly dry.

"That's what this summer is all about, right?"

"It is."

"Cool." His voice is raw and husky.

"Cool." I sound like a choking frog.

Neither one of us moves.

Or stops staring at each other.

An alarm sounds.

"What's that?"

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