Page 31 of One Timer With A Wingman

My eyes bulge.She isn’t yours, idiot.

“Would it help if I told you it was the best sex I ever had?” I share. It’s not something I want to admit out loud but from what I know of Briar, she needs to hear it to feel okay with what is happening.

Her ocean eyes narrow on me. “You’re lying.”

I chuckle. “I’m dead serious.”

She watches me carefully.

“Best sex of my life, Briar,” I repeat as we get on the elevator. Memories of last night flood my mind. I watch her. “I’m guessing you’re never going to be able to look at an elevator in the same way.”

She giggles. “Probably not.”

The elevator doors open. I throw an arm over her shoulders. “Come on, we need to eat after that workout.”

We head into the restaurant where all our friends are midway through their meal.

“Glad you guys finally decided to join us,” Levi says.

“You guys were on fire last night,” Taylor adds.

She isn’t wrong, the fire is still burning.

We head to the buffet and both fill our plates with eggs, sausage, and toast.

When we sit back down, I ask the guys, “What is this buggy thing you guys booked?”

“It sounded fun. It’s off road buggies. Hope you aren’t wearing good clothes. The concierge showed me a flyer. It looked cool. We’re in for an adventure,” Nolan explains. Simon fist bumps him.

“Need you guys to chow down quickly. We need to be leaving now,” Levi says to me and Briar.

Briar shovels food into her mouth. Then she gulps the glass of orange juice the server brought her.

We all head out into one of the shuttles offered by the hotel. Briar sits beside me and when her leg rubs mine, an excitement brews inside me that I’ve never felt before. Along with the need to touch her. But we aren’t a couple and getting handsy now doesn’t seem right. I keep my hands to myself, but I can’t wait to get back to the hotel because I want to take her to bed again, and that in itself may be a problem.

CHAPTERNINE

Aaron

We arrive to the buggy place just as a group is returning their buggies.

“Holy crap, I’m not getting myself covered in mud.” Sofia winces.

“Aw, come on, nothing wrong with getting a little dirty,” Nolan answers, waggling his brows.

A guy walks up to us and introduces himself as our tour guide. My cell rings and when I check my phone, I see it’s Mom.

“I’ll be a sec,” I say to Briar. I walk away from the group to answer the call. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, darling. How is Punta Cana?” she asks.

“It’s beautiful. It’s been a fun trip,” I say to her.

“I hope you aren’t saying that on my account,” she counters.

“I’m not. It’s been fun,” I assure. Every time I talk to Mom now I try to take in the details of her voice. I try to revel in the fact she is still with us, but another part of me feels the impending doom of her death hanging over me like a gray cloud all the time.

“I feel bad we aren’t together over Christmas,” she says again for the umpteenth time.

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