Page 49 of The Best Book Boyfriend
“It’s getting late, I think I’m gonna take off,” he says, pushing off of the counter and pulling me into a hug. His touch takes me by surprise, and I’m helpless to do anything but melt into it. I rest my cheek against the wall of his chest and inhale the scent of him, a faint mix of detergent, coffee and a note of spice on his skin. My breath falls in line with his, and I shift a little to the left, my ear seeking the rhythm of his heartbeat. I haven’t been held like this in a very long time. Maybe not ever.
“If you’re sure?” I whisper.Please don’t go.
Luke pulls his head back and mine follows, until I’m staring up at his face, chest to chest, belly to belly. “I think I’ve had my fill of romance for one day.”
His fingers press into my shoulder. The pad of a thumb strokes a line across my neck. A deep hum and twitch of his lip makes me wonder if he can feel how much I want him, if it’s written all over my face. If I had a penis, it would be jabbing him in the thigh. There’s a low swoop in my stomach when my hips press themselves forward and I realise he’s having that very same issue.
“I’ll let myself out,” he says, pulling away. There’s the lightest kiss, maybe not even a kiss, just a whisper of his lips against my hairline. Then he steps away. “You keep on reading.”
“OK.”
Every nerve ending thrums. I try to get comfy in my armchair and side-eye the front door as Luke gathers his things. I give him my friendliest cheery wave as he steps out, but the second I hear the door click, I abandon my book and plunge my hand into my underwear, chasing the release that’s been building all day.
Chapter 20
Luke
Iwakeuphardand aching. I’m pretty sure I’ve been like this all night, despite relieving myself in the shower as soon as I got home, my forehead pressed against the wall, replaying that scene fromTen Night Stand.
Sex is hot.
Sex on a balcony. Very hot.
Sex on a balcony in the pouring rain. Unbelievably hot even though probably a bit cold in reality.
Sex on a balcony in the pouring rain then realising a neighbour can see you, only for that neighbour to start giving you orders ending with‘fuck her until she screams’.That has unlocked some level of hotness I wasn’t even aware was possible.
I’ve never been much of an exhibitionist, but last night all I could think about was taking Kara like that. Thinking about turning her on so much it turned someone else on had me spilling over my hand in minutes. These books have got me acting like a horny schoolboy.
I mean, I blame the books, but deep down I know it’s Kara too. She’s the one I picture when I stroke myself off thinking about sex in a snow drift, in a stable, in a parked car down a dark lane. She’s awoken something in me that I thought I was doing just fine without.
I could have stayed and read with her all night. I had a vision of us ending up stretched out on her sofa, her at one end, me at the other end, legs tangled together. I imagined myself dragging my thumb across her ankle, slowly inching up her calf.
Those thoughts are exactly why I had to go. I couldn’t handle another minute with completely un-friend-like urges building inside me.
I roll onto my side and reach across to the empty half of the bed, wishing she was here. I’m a lovesick teenager again, pulling a pillow tight into my chest to fill the void. I’m trying so damn hard to keep things friendly, but spending the day with her, hanging out in her living room reading and chatting, it just made me want her more. I want so many days like that in my future.
A scrapbook of images floods through my brain. The first day she came into the coffee shop, that little bit of hair at the back of her neck that always falls loose from her ponytail, her bright pink cardigan that turns her into a beacon of joy, easy to spot in a crowd. The way she nibbles her bottom lip when she’s reading. How she laughs with her friends, how she felt in my arms last night. Every single one of these things make me want her more.
And that night on the sofa. Jesus, the amount of times I’ve thought about it. The memory of her sprawled out before me flashes into vision at the most random times. I can’t sit on the sofa without thinking about it. I can’t sit at the dining table without remembering her fantasy, I’ve had to start eating my breakfast at the kitchen counter instead. The filth pouring from her mouth, the lust in her eyes, the sound of her climbing to her orgasm. I could get high off of that sound.
It’s not just that, it’s the way she was afterward too. Vulnerable and human, soft and gentle. I want to see all those sides of her and the longer this goes on the harder it is to be around her. I want to see every smile, I want to be the one who makes her laugh. And if there are tears, I want to be the one to sit through them with her, to hold her hand and rub her back. I want to make her soup when she’s sick, pour her bucks fizz on Christmas morning.
Oh my God, I want Christmas morning with this woman, though I have a feeling every morning would feel like Christmas morning waking up next to her and I never thought I’d feel that way about anyone ever again. My chest hurts at the realisation.
I don’t know how much longer I can go on with this friendship and not tell her how I really feel about her. I also have no idea how to go about it. This is Kara we’re talking about. She’s fine talking about Book Boyfriends but when it comes to the real stuff she clams up.
What am I going to do, just text her and say‘Hey I like you, can I take you out to dinner tonight?’
I mean, I could, but I can’t risk her thinking it’s a friend invite when I want so much more. And though she might not feel worthy of it, the benchmark for dates in her head must be so high after all the books she’s read. I wish I could show her that she is worthy.
Fortunately for me, I’ve got the number of one of the most successful daters on the planet, and he answers on the first ring.
“Hey bro, what’s up?”
“I need date ideas.”
All that earns me is a laugh. “You know I don’t date.”
