Page 153 of From Best Friend to Bride
Telling him I could take care of his erection for him.
Jesus Christ, why had I done that? The man had clammed up when I’d kissed him, so what made Drunk Delilah think it was a good idea to offer him a handjob?
He was obviously going to say no.
Especially since I was drunk.
Heck, he’d have turned me down if I was sober, judging by his reaction to the kiss. But I knew Fred—I knew he would never touch a woman when she was drunk or let her touch him.
Consent granted under an impairment wasn’t consent, after all.
But, fuck.
How I wished he’d let me touch him.
If he wouldn’t, then maybe… Shit, maybe it was time to walk away from this. Maybe it was time to put an end to this sham before it went even further and both of us ended up irreparably hurt.
Before we reached a point where a friendship could no longer exist. The longer this marriage continued, the closer to the edge I teetered. I truly feared that one day, I’d never be able to look at him and see anything other than my husband.
It didn’t matter that I’d fallen in love with him. I wouldn’t force him to stay married to me for my own selfishness. If he still felt the way he did at the start of our so-called relationship, if he still wasn’t willing to cross the line with me, then it left me with no option but to walk away.
I had to. For myself.
To save what was left between us.
To save what was left ofmyself. Of my heart.
I wasn’t naïve enough to believe that we could pretend like nothing happened. Too many things had. Too many things had changed. We could annul our marriage and on paper it would be like it never existed, sure, but reality was entirely different.
We should have listened to Granny.
We should have laughed the idea of getting married off like the joke it should have always been.
We never, ever should have changed anything between us.
If I could go back, knowing what I know now, knowing how I’d fall in love with my best friend, I don’t think I would have said yes.
I don’t think I would have been strong enough to say yes.
Now… There was only one option.
We had to talk.
And if talking meant bringing up us ending this marriage, then so be it. Despite how I joked, his rejections stung—they’d hurt from the very beginning, because I was only human, and everyone wanted to be wanted.
Everyone wanted to be wanted by the person they craved.
And I did.
Crave him.
I craved Fred. His touch, his taste, his everything. I wanted all the parts that belonged to me as his best friend and all the parts I was being denied as it. All the sides I couldn’t see, all the thoughts I couldn’t share, all the feelings I couldn’t experience…
I was weak and greedy, and I wanted them all.
I feared I wouldn’t be happy unless I’d touched and kissed every inch of his skin and branded him as mine.
I sank my hands into my hair.
