Page 100 of From Best Friend to Bride
Bugger it.
“Nothing changes between us, though. I’m not going to pursue a physical relationship with you, Deli.”
Oh.
My eyebrows pulled together into a small frown. Why did that bother me? I didn’t want that anyway.
Was this my clitoris talking?
She could calm her tits.
Maybe get a massage later.
Heh. Maybe now was the time to spirit that toy out of the bucket in the wardrobe…
“Not even if you want it,” Fred said, now standing right in front of me. “Understand?”
“W—wait. What do you mean, not even if I want it? Are you telling me that if I stripped naked and offered myself to you on a silver platter right now that you’d tell me to put my clothes back on and walk away?”
“Yes.” He brushed my hair from my eyes. “Because you’re far too important to me to cross that many lines on a mere whim. I refuse to have sex with you and risk ruining our relationship just because I can’t control myself when I’m lying next to you. Would that make my life easier? Yeah. Fucking you every morning would definitely be a step up from beating one out in the shower, but that’s my problem, not yours. You don’t exist for my pleasure or for anyone else’s. My attraction to you is not your responsibility, Delilah.”
Holy shit.
That was the hottest thing anyone had ever said to me.
“The same goes for what you wear.” His eyes briefly trailed over my chest. “Don’t change what you like on my account. If you’re uncomfortable with me, we’ll simply sleep in different rooms. Don’t make changes in your life to accommodate my comfort.”
Wow.
Was it possible to marry someone again?
That little feeling that had taken root earlier hummed to life, threatening to trickle out into my veins.
And then… sadness. A little flicker of it. A deep, very real, very tangible sadness at the reality of our relationship.
“You know,” I murmured, stepping out of his reach. “Whoever marries you for real is going to be one lucky woman.”
He flinched, his eyes widening. “Deli—”
“Excuse me.” I ducked away from his reaching hand and hurried into the bathroom, locking the door securely behind me.
His footsteps echoed as he approached. The door creaked, but that was it. He said nothing. He didn’t try the handle. He just stood there for a moment, and I stared at the bottom of the door where the shadows of his feet were.
And I counted.
One, two, three…
All the way to two hundred and sixty-two before those shadows disappeared and the sound of him rustling around the room reached my ears.
I waited, perched on the edge of the tub, until there was only silence on the other side of the door.
I quietly unlocked it and poked my head out, peering around the room. Empty—and his personal items like his phone and keys were gone from the bedside table.
I threw myself onto the bed and pulled the quilt over my head, curling into a ball under it. My hand snaked out towards his pillow, and I tugged it in close to me. Holding it tightly against my body, I buried my face in it, breathing in the soft scent of cedarwood from his shampoo.
It was both comforting and torturous.
My previous arousal had withered away into a sad little ache, and my words from earlier whispered in my mind.
