Page 37 of Eligible Best Friend

Usually, I’m not a swallower. The thought would make me dry heave. Ford’s different there too. I want him. I want to taste all of him.

He goes rigid and heat explodes in my mouth. I hang on to his hip with one hand as he shakes and moans my name. I never get tired of hearing him say it. I’ve been Wescott to him for so long that when he calls me Lia, it’s more intimate. He’s let down his guard around me. Wescott kept me in the coworker category. We were buddies. When he calls me Lia, we’re more. It doesn’t matter that plenty of other people call me that too. Not Ford. He’s too careful. We could be friends with benefits and he would still call me Wescott, but he hasn’t.

I sit back on my heels and grin up at him. His flagging erection bobs in my face. The wondrous way he gazes at me makes me feel special. Cherished.

I can almost forget this isn’t real.

I rise to cover the sting that thought gives me.

He helps me up, his hands cupping my elbows.

“I don’t know where you learned how to do that, but I’m grateful.”

“Presley’s School for the Gifted Blow Jobber?”

He chuckles as he folds me in his embrace and moves us both under the spray. My water bill is going to be atrocious.

He rinses us both off, his movements unhurried and soft. “What’d you have planned for today?”

“Housecleaning, but I might be too worn out for that.”

“Want to grab some food?”

“I’d like that.”

Excitement wells in my belly before I force it back down. This isn’t a date.

No date has ever rocked my world like this.

“Food,” he says and turns the faucet off. He gives me a knowing look, water dripping down his face. “Then I’ve gotta get more condoms.”

Eleven

Ford

It’s just a lunch date.

That’s what I keep telling myself as we grab some sandwiches. But I’m having way more fun than I normally do getting a fucking sandwich.

She’s thrown her hair up into a messy bun and she’s wearing a simple purple top with jean shorts. One time, she told me she loves wearing whatever she wants to now and not worrying about what’ll impress people or what colors go best with her skin on camera. Her pink lips wrap around a metal straw as she takes a pull from her lemonade. It brings me straight back to this morning in the shower.

Coming in her mouth is an unparalleled experience. Unless I count every other time with her.

Why is she different? Is it the friends and no expectations thing? I’m not around anyone who doesn’t expect something from me. I get it. That’s life. Only Mom and Lia expect me to be just me, without a fat paycheck and initials behind my name to define me.

“Don’t you have plans to help your mom today?”

I rip my gaze off her mouth. She’s eyeing her sandwich. Good. My lewd thoughts are probably etched all over my face. “She usually calls by Friday and she didn’t.”

“Maybe she’s worried about interfering with any plans we might have. You should call her.”

My mind takes a beat to register her request. I was so ready for something along the lines of Good, you’re a grown man. Your mom can take care of herself. Not encouragement to call her.

Cass resented Mom more each year we were together. She’s too dependent on you. Cass doesn’t understand that Mom’s not relying on me. I just want to help her and be around for her. She has no one else.

“I’ll give her a call later.”

She lifts a shoulder. “You can do it now. I don’t mind.”

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