Page 80 of Fabulous Filthy Friend

FLYNN

Rachel’s soft, warm body in my arms and in my bed has to be the greatest feeling in the world. Actually, it’s more like how I imagine Heaven.

Peaceful. Calm. Absolute fucking bliss.

In a million years, I never could have imagined what happened over the last couple of hours. That it could even occur, let alone that it would end up here. With us. Like this.

I brush my fingers along her arm, soft goosebumps rising in their wake.

She stirs and shifts slightly but doesn’t turn to look at me. “What did you mean before?”

Shit.

Rach doesn’t have to elaborate. I know exactly what she’s referring to. The statement I made without even thinking about it, without even considering what it would lead to.

I figured it was only a matter of time before she started asking questions I might not want to answer. A few more minutes of peaceful snuggling with the woman of my dreams would have been nice, but I guess there’s no avoiding the inevitable. We’re going to have to have some uncomfortable conversations, given what we just figured out and did. Conversations we maybe should have had before I fucked her brains out.

When I don’t respond right away, she turns slightly to glance over her shoulder at me, but her gaze holds no real concern, only question.

I press a kiss to the back of her neck and squeeze her more tightly against me. Her ass rubs against my cock, bringing it back to life. Another round would be a welcome distraction from this talk, but something tells me she isn’t going to be easily dissuaded from her line of questioning.

So instead of burying myself in her again, I’ll play dumb. “What do you mean?”

“You said you’ve been dreaming about this for a long time. What did you mean?”

Fuck, this is awkward.

We’ve been friends for so long. Been through a lot together. Especially recently with her father’s death. If she knew I was madly in love with her all the times I’ve comforted her or we’ve snuggled and watched movies, it might make her think differently about all of it. Like I had some ulterior motive for how I acted instead of trying to be compassionate and a real friend.

How the hell do I tell her I’ve been in love with her for most of it without coming across as weird or creepy or a liar?

I don’t.

Avoid.

Avoid.

Avoid.

I brush my lips against her warm skin again. “Don’t worry about it.”

She shifts and rolls onto her back to look up at me. Her small, soft hand cups my cheek, and she brushes her thumb across my lips. “Tell me the truth, Flynn. I want to know.”

I sigh and run my hand over her exposed breast, then catch a taut nipple between my finger and thumb and tug.

She gasps a little, but a tiny smile plays at the corners of her lips. Her hand drops to my chest, and she pushes against it. “Don’t try to distract me. Answer my question.”

Like it’s so fucking easy.

Confessing to Father Lafayette was easier than telling Rachel the truth.

“Fine.”

Fuck, this is hard.

I press my palm against her cheek and meet her questioning gaze. “I’ve been in love with you for years.”

Her eyes widen, and her hand stills against my chest. “What?”

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