Page 31 of The Barista's Beloved

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Waking up next to Ben was far too easy. Maeve held her breath for a moment as she registered the warm body curled against hers, one long arm thrown over her waist with a hand tucked under her hip. His slow, even breathing warmed her neck, sending wisps of her hair tumbling across the pillows. A tumult of emotions washed through her with the clarity of morning light peeking through the curtained window of her bedroom. She’d slept with Ben. She’d done a hell of a lot more than sleep with Ben, actually. She’d had the best sex of her entire life. Twice. And there was a ridge pressed firmly against her backside that indicated there might be another round coming, if she was up for it.

Was she up for it? She let her breath out slowly and tried to analyze her feelings. Was Demi Lovato right? Was ruining their friendship worth it? What if she’d ruined everything by finally throwing herself at him? The mix of humiliation and despair and sheer horniness that had sent her tumbling into his arms wasn’t anything to be proud of. She winced. She’d had to talk him into having sex with her. He was a damned good friend, apparently.

“I can hear you thinking.” His voice was low, sexy, and sleepy. “You should stop.” His arm moved, slipping from under her hip to travel along her belly and explore her breasts. When his fingers found her nipple, her brain went blank as electricity shot through her from head to toe. Shivering, she rolled over to face him and he slid his hands up into her hair, pulling her toward him and capturing her lips in a long, devouring kiss.

Somehow, before she knew what was happening, he’d rolled her further until she was on top of him, the blankets falling away as the tip of his cock brushed the sensitive skin at her center. Gasping, she stared down at him. He was smiling up at her, the same warm, sunny smile he always had, though his eyes were heated as they roved her body in time with his caress. When he grasped her hips firmly and nudged, she rose slightly at his direction, aligning their bodies. She threw her head back as she sank down and he filled her, allowing all thoughts of friendship and the future to slip away as pleasure chased through her veins.

Ben borrowed her shower for a quick rinse, and came back smelling like the Irish soap her mother sent her every month. It gave her a dizzying sense of familiarity as he leaned over her to kiss her forehead.

“Are you okay?” He paused. “Are we okay?”

She nodded. “Still friends, right?” She looked up at him, nerves jangling as she waited for his answer. Unfortunately, all of her concerns had came roaring back with a vengeance while he’d been in her bathroom.

His smile was easy. “Still friends.”

“Nothing’s changed?” Her world had been rocked, but she could deal with it. Probably.

His smile stayed in place, although something seemed slightly different about it. She couldn’t quite identify what it was. “Nothing.”

She sat up, keeping the sheet over her breasts even though it seemed silly given that Ben’s hands and mouth had been all over them not even ten minutes ago. Her nipples were still hard, even though her body was lax. “Now what?”

He crossed his arms over his chest as he stepped back to make room for her to get out of the bed. “You tell me, Maeve.” Something that looked like pain flickered across his face, but it was gone before she could process what it might mean. “I don’t want to lose what we have. I told you that.”

She felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment. “You mean before I jumped your bones?”

He laughed. “I promise you, the bone-jumping was mutual.”

They both knew she was the one who’d pulled him into this confusing situation, but he was too nice to admit any of that. It was one of the things she adored about him—his unwavering support and kindness. The least she could do was take a step back and try to get them on even footing again.

“So. No more, then.” She rose from the bed and reached for the robe that hung carelessly over a corner of her dresser nearby, shrugging into it before she looked back up at him.

He was nodding. “We got it out of our systems, right?”

Fat chance. Her system was flooded with him. She craved him more with every second. But that wasn’t so different from how she’d felt before, was it? Unfortunately, now she knew exactly what she was missing.

She blew out a breath as she cinched the robe around her waist. “Yeah. Out of our systems.”

He relaxed. She hadn’t realized he’d been holding his body so stiffly. “Great. Listen, I have to get to work, but I’ll text you later, okay?”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and walked with him to the front door. There was a long, awkward pause while they decided whether they ought to hug, kiss, or shake hands. Finally, he snaked one long arm around her for a sideways hug and pressed a kiss to the top of her head while she tilted desperately toward him like a flower seeking sunshine. Then he was gone, striding down the walkway to his car.

Maeve’s forehead thunked against the door as she watched him through the peephole. God, she was an idiot. She’d practically forced her best friend to have sex with her, declaring that she didn’t care whether it ruined their friendship. He’d told her he didn’t have many close friends, and because of that, he valued what they had intensely. No matter what either of them said, she knew perfectly well that their friendship wasn’t going to stay the same.

She’d ruined everything, just because she’d had a shitty date.

Her train of thought was interrupted when she realized that Ben had stopped dead on the sidewalk in front of her house. He was standing still, shaking his head. His back was still to her, so she couldn’t see his face. She looked behind her automatically, wondering if he’d forgotten something. She was pretty sure he’d taken his phone and his keys. She swung her head back around to peer through the peephole and found herself face-to-face with Ben. He was back on her doorstep, jaw set and brows drawn down as he knocked firmly.

She gave herself the space of two breaths before she opened the door. No sense letting him know she’d been watching him walk away. That wasn’t what friends who were totally okay and not at all affected by earth-shattering sex did, right?

He started talking as soon as the door was open. “I lied.”

“What?”

He set his hands on her elbows and propelled her backwards into the house, kicking the door closed behind them. “I lied, Maeve. I can’t do it.”

Her heart sank. “Can’t do what?”

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