Читать книгу Her Every Fantasy - Zara Cox - Страница 11

Savvie

THE MAN I’D called my best friend until a dizzying series of events dissolved the title like sugar in hot water stared at me dispassionately. It was a good thing I’d finished my meal or I’d have lost my appetite. The look wasn’t just in his eyes. It seeped through every shrug, every curl of lips I’d once thought were the most perfectly created set of lips on earth. Every indifferent sip of excellent wine.

I looked deeper, pathetically desperate to find something else. Something more. A reminder of those semi-carefree years when we’d talk on the phone for hours, sleep for an hour and resume conversations the moment we saw one another in person.

But the man I knew had been replaced by a harder, edgier version of a Bryce Mortimer who’d been hard and edgy and cynical to start off with. I’d only fooled myself into thinking our friendship had softened those hard edges, that being around me and my eclectic family he’d believed was perfect had smoothed a few jagged spikes embedded by his family and his emotionally stunted upbringing.

More fool me.

For the longest time, I’d hoped and prayed, hinted and whispered, while silently screaming, See me. Me. Choose me.

Bryce had seen. And concluded I wasn’t enough.

Nothing and no one would ever be enough. It’d taken me far too long to accept that. Even longer to get over it. All he’d ever wanted was low-maintenance friendship, something to take the edge off his hectic social and dysfunctional family life. And stupidly, I’d forced myself to fit the mould, to be whatever I needed to be to stay in his life. Unfortunately by doing that, I’d almost lost myself. And yes, a part of me hated Bryce for it.

Well, he’d made it clear he was all about settling scores.

I had a few of my own to put to bed.

‘Truth,’ I repeated after I refused dessert and the chef had departed.

He sipped his drink, then gave a wry smile as he lowered it. ‘You’ve always been terrible at this game. You’re supposed to give me two options, remember?’

I remembered. Truth or Dare had always been our game. I’d loved it a little too much because it’d skated close to secret desires I’d tried to suppress for a long time. ‘What’s the point when you always choose dare?’

He shrugged. ‘Dares are way more exciting.’

‘Why? What’s so wrong with choosing truth every now and then?’

He tensed ever so slightly. ‘Sadly, the truth means different things to different people.’

‘Not to me, and you know that.’ He didn’t answer. Now it was my turn to tense. ‘Don’t you?’

‘Leave it.’

‘Leave what? I haven’t even asked you anything yet.’

‘Exactly,’ he replied tightly. ‘And already you’re getting bent out of shape. So let’s drop whatever it is you think you want to know before things get more fucked, shall we?’

‘More fucked? So you know things are fucked?’

He grimaced and for some reason stared at my mouth for an eternity before his gaze swept away. ‘You know the one thing I haven’t missed about you? This dog-with-a-bone inability to let things be.’

Maybe he was right and I needed to let things go. But I’d let too many things go for far too long. First by being too afraid to ever dig beneath the surface with Bryce to what I’d really wanted. Then with Dan and all the signs I should’ve heeded when things had started to go bad and he’d turned from sarcastically cruel to deliberately verbally abusive. Then the one thing I’d never thought would slip through my fingers—my friendship with Bryce.

I watched my best friend now. Correction, my ex-best friend. Outwardly, he appeared unaffected but years-long experience had taught me that his still waters ran deep and dangerous. He was also uncomfortable about something.

Something my instinct pushed me not to let go.

‘Truth,’ I demanded for a third time.

‘Fine,’ he griped, with less heat than a minute before.

‘How long have you held this…grudge?’

He didn’t hesitate. ‘Three a half years, give or take.’

My heart dropped to my heels.

A large part of me had hoped he’d do the quintessential English thing and reply that of course he didn’t hold a grudge. That I was being silly. That his cold email and general attitude were my overactive imagination.

But they weren’t. His stark words landed and burrowed deep, robbing me of breath until I tightened my gut against the acute loss. Until I reminded myself that he’d absented himself, deliberately, for much longer than those three-plus years.

‘Then why am I here?’ I asked. ‘Why not tell me to piss off if you don’t care any more?’

‘Because you’ve always been as stubborn as a mule when you get an idea into your head. Anyone else who believed I was cold and distant would’ve taken their business elsewhere. Instead here you are, thinking you can turn this around. Or it because you want to lend credence to the assertion that I’m important to you?’

His tone chafed. ‘It wasn’t a lie.’

‘Yeah. Right.’

Irritation snapped my spine straight. ‘Watch it, Bryce, or you’ll seriously piss me off with that tone that suggests I’m lying. You don’t want to believe it, that’s up to you and that cynicism you wear like a second skin. I know my truth. As for the implication that I have ulterior motives for not taking my business elsewhere, you’re right. And why should I? I checked out your place before coming here. It’s perfect for my needs. So pardon me for not wanting to cut off my nose to spite my face.’

He appeared nonplussed for a moment. ‘Fine. Calm down. Are you quite done?’

‘No.’ I took a large gulp of my wine, and totally denied it was for Dutch courage, even though it was. ‘I want another truth, Bryce.’

His lips tightened but he didn’t forestall me. Just fixed those signature piercing hazel Mortimer eyes that had the uncanny ability to sink hooks into me, and waited me out.

‘Why did you come to my wedding?’

His glass clicked sharply onto the table and his tension grew. ‘You know why I came. Because you sent me a bloody gold-embossed invitation. Because I was your friend.’

‘My best friend. A best friend who never bothered to RSVP. A friend who turned up almost an hour late without so much as a phone call and then left thirty minutes after the ceremony.’

‘Right, so I’m a mannerless bastard. I’m sure you’ll find it within that over-generous heart of yours to forgive me at some point.’

‘Oh, please. You don’t give a rat’s arse whether I forgive you or not. And what’s that supposed to mean, over-generous?’

He shrugged again. ‘You were always giving to a fault. And very early on in our friendship I remember you pointing out to me that we balanced each other out because I was selfish to a fault. It stands to reason that you’ll forgive me for any atrocities, no?’

‘People change, Bryce. I’m not that gullible person you think me to be any more.’

He frowned, then pointed an index finger at me. ‘I never said you were gullible.’

I sighed. ‘You don’t have to spell it out—’

‘No, rosebud, don’t do that. Don’t put words in my mouth. You know I’d have no problem calling you gullible if I thought you were.’

Something inside me clenched tight at the endearment. God, how long had I waited to hear it again? How often had I heard it in my dreams? ‘Well, I don’t forgive you, then. My generosity doesn’t stretch to making allowances for you barely showing up for me on that day.’

‘That day? You mean the most important, most magical day of your life, don’t you? The day when all your dreams came true?’

His sneer cut me sharp and deep.

And yet I couldn’t scream the yes that should’ve come readily to me. Because the day hadn’t been magical. Not by a long shot. And it wasn’t just because of Bryce’s barely-there attendance, although that too had contributed to the curious hollow in my stomach. I’d woken that morning, like all the days before, with doubts. Doubts which I’d let a smooth-talking Dan sweep away with promises of the one thing he knew I yearned for. Acceptance. I’d believed every yarn he’d spun. Every promise broken with a glib, sugar-coated excuse. Right until the scales had been cruelly ripped from my eyes.

The reminder both hurt and angered me now. And justified or not, some part of me held Bryce responsible for it. He’d been my crutch until I’d needed him most. Then he’d simply…walked away.

‘Just tell me, Bryce. Don’t pick now to be a damned gentleman and spare me from whatever it is you’re too afraid to spit out!’ I knew taunting him was dangerous. He’d changed. We both had. He no longer even tried to mask his feelings behind dry, acerbic wit.

When his eyes met mine, I knew whatever was coming would be unvarnished. But still I held his gaze, daring him with mine. ‘Truth,’ I insisted, girding my loins nevertheless.

His face turned hard and bleak but no less breathtaking for its austerity. ‘You really want to know? I came to find out whether you were really going through with it. Whether, after what you knew about Dan, you would still go anywhere near that bastard, never mind letting him put a ring on your finger.’

My gut turned to ice, which was curious because several inches below that the reminder of what had happened three nights before my wedding between Bryce and me was sending white-hot heat shooting into my pussy.

‘And that was the only reason you came? To see whether I would compound the mistake you thought I was making by marrying him?’ The whispered words left my lips with muted hope shrouding them. A hope that maybe he’d prove me wrong this time. Indicate that I’d been foolish to fear that deep down the reason I’d clung to friendship while secretly wishing for more wasn’t because he wouldn’t want more. That friendship wasn’t all we’d ever have.

And that I was desperate enough to cling tight to that rather than have nothing…because there was more.

‘Why else, rosebud?’ he asked softly. A little too softly. As if he knew the chaos running wild and unfettered through me. As if taunting me over it. He’d always been so good at that. Now, though, there was a dangerous edge to it that… God, turned me on.

Jesus.

I shook my head. A moment later, he stilled my movement by leaning forward to capture my chin in his hand.

‘You seem to be on some sort of journey of self-discovery for both of us, so let’s have it. Why else do you think I put a business deal I’d been working on for months on hold to fly five thousand miles to your wedding?’ he asked.

My tongue slid out almost of its own accord. Licked my lower lip. His gaze followed the slow, languorous movement with eyes that grew steadily heated.

After a moment when words still failed to form in my throat, his eyes rose to capture mine. ‘Would it be because the same night I warned you not to go back to Dan the Dickhead because he wanted you just for your money, you nodded that beautiful head and used that indecently sexy voice to reassure me that it was over? Did you not give me your word that you would end it?’

‘Bryce…’

‘There it is,’ he breathed. ‘That was the same tone you used that night. The one that curls around my cock and strokes me until I’m hard as a fucking rock every single time.’

My jaw dropped. ‘Bryce!’ My heart kicked at the fact that we were talking, really talking about the stuff we’d always seemed to skirt around. Even if it was just about the physical. For now.

‘You wanted honesty, rosebud. You assured me it was over, that you no longer belonged to another man, so I spread you out on my living-room floor and I finally got a taste of that incredible pussy, finally had the privilege of feeling your tightness around my fingers, of you gripping my hair as you screamed my name and came on my tongue. Only to have you go back on your promise to call off the wedding and marry the bastard three days later.’

The growled, hot words filled with deep censure robbed me of speech, shamed me and turned me on in equal measures.

His thumb rose from my chin, drifted at leisure over my lower lip as he continued to watch me with dark, hooded eyes. ‘You want to know if that changed things between us?’

I licked my lip again, my heart pounding with apprehension and a whole load of sizzling lust. ‘Did it?’

His hand dropped like a stone and he surged to his feet. ‘What the hell does it matter?’ he asked.

‘How can you ask me that? You know why it matters. You never answered my phone calls after that and I haven’t seen you for years! It’s not like you not to call me out if you think I’ve done something wrong.’

His eyebrows shot up. ‘If?’

‘Fine, when. Whatever.’

He spiked his fingers through his hair. Then he threw me another of those indifferent shrugs that seemed to find the centre of my hurt with bullseye accuracy. ‘I was busy. So were you. We were both busy empire-building, if I’m not mistaken.’

I scrambled to my feet too. ‘Don’t give me that. We were never too busy for each other before…before…’

‘Stop clinging to this idealistic version of what you thought we were or would be. You want the truth? I stopped trusting you after you stopped trusting yourself. After you went against your every instinct and married that bastard.’

Hurt lanced deeper through me. ‘How dare you?’

‘Oh, come off it. I know you. Sometimes maybe more than you know yourself. You think I didn’t see the doubt on your face when I walked into that church as you promised to honour and cherish? Not so deep down, you knew he was wrong for you, that you were making a mistake. And you married him anyway.’

‘So you chose to punish me for it?’

He exhaled harshly. ‘Damn it, I don’t have time for this.’

‘Really, then I ask you again, why did you invite me here? I may be stubborn but I don’t trespass where I’m not wanted. If you don’t have time for me or our friendship, then why did you agree to see me? You could’ve done what you did before and ignored my email, continued your grand empire-building. So why didn’t you?’

He stilled as if my words had turned him to stone. For the longest moment, we stared at each other across the living room. Then, driven by that same instinct that had started this reckless path of discovery, I slowly made my way towards him, aware of every cell in my body, every stretch of heated skin as I’d never been before. Also aware of his intense scrutiny as his gaze raked me from head to toe and back again.

I was treading dangerous, familiar waters. The same undertow that’d sucked me in that night, three days before my wedding, when I’d thrown caution to the wind and ended up almost drowning. This thing could blow wide open, be irreparably damaged.

But then…wasn’t Bryce already claiming we were beyond repair? That in not heeding his warning and marrying Dan I’d broken our friendship? For all I knew if I walked out of this apartment I wouldn’t see him again for another three years. Or ever.

So what the hell did I have to lose? A friendship I’d treasured while wanting more, only for it to fall apart anyway?

I stopped a mere foot from him. The intensity of the emotions vibrating from him wrapped around me but I didn’t let it deter me. I’d come through a very bitter divorce with a stronger spine and steely resolve never to doubt myself again. And now he was in front of me, six feet three inches of raw masculinity and long-denied secret craving.

A craving I’d received a quick, highly addictive but maddeningly brief taste of.

‘Why did you change the venue for this meeting? Didn’t you originally ask me to come to your office?’ I modulated my voice to that tenor he’d confessed minutes ago turned him on.

As if on cue, his eyes darkened, his jaw clenching as he struggled to remain unaffected. When he swayed just that tiniest fraction towards me, I knew I had him.

For how long remained a mystery, but right now, in this moment, he was mine. And I wasn’t about to lose my chance.

‘Is it because you wanted something else besides telling me everything you think I’ve done wrong?’ I didn’t give him a chance to reply.

A simple step and I closed the gap between us. A slow tilt onto the balls of my feet and I was sliding my palms over his rock-hard abs and up his chest. I registered the fierce pounding of his heart echoing mine. Felt and revelled in it.

‘Was it because you wanted another taste of me, perhaps?’ I whispered on a soft breath right before I let my lips brush the skin beneath his earlobe.

A deep shudder powered through him. ‘What the hell are you doing, rosebud?’ he rasped.

‘Dare,’ I breathed.

‘You’re still playing the game wrong.’ His voice was a night-dark rumble, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as if he was stopping himself from reaching for me. That glimpse of power over him spurred me on.

‘Am I? Then I guess you don’t want to hear my dare?’

I dropped my head a fraction to lick at the frantic pulse beating at his throat. His next breath hissed out. ‘Just fucking say it already.’

‘I dare you to do it again. I dare you to drag me to that sofa and use your tongue and your mouth and your hands on me. Just like you did last time. See if you can work some of this…angst out of your system.’

A pure, animalistic groan rumbled from his chest. ‘And what makes you think I’ll stop at just tasting you? That I won’t demand a hell of a lot more?’

My answer emerged with more than a vein of anguish. ‘You say you don’t trust me. Well, I don’t trust you not to abandon me after this lunch either. But I know you enough to know you’ll stop when I say. And I’m telling you I’ll let you…process your charged state if that’s what you want too.’

His hands found my hips then, roughly tugging me back from my whisper-light exploration of his throat, to stare deep into my eyes. ‘You think you still know me that well?’ he asked darkly.

Maybe not, but some things never changed and Bryce had more integrity in his little finger than most men did in their whole life. ‘Guess we’ll find out. Unless you’re too scared to take the dare?’

The words were barely out of my mouth before he was plucking me off my feet, the rugby-honed body he’d achieved in his time at Cambridge making light of my considerable weight. Bryce was the first and last man who’d been able to carry me without making me self-conscious about the extra pounds I carried. And while I’d shed a good few pounds during and after my divorce, I’d never quite achieved that golden figure of perfection in my head. And lately, I’d tried to be okay with that. It was, after all, what had earned me a dream career and sustained my growing empire.

But I still had moments of anxiety, moments when the mocking taunts and cruelty broke through my often solid barriers.

They tried to do so now.

But the moment Bryce tossed me onto the sofa and speared me with his dark hazel eyes, I let thoughts of the perfect BMI and cellulite melt from my brain. Instead I gave over to the tingling filling me from the inside out, registering in my peaked nipples, the dry anticipation in my mouth and the wet desperation between my legs.

He was still super pissed from our heated conversation and my final taunt, but already the anger was receding from his eyes, replaced by something earthier, something carnal that made my pulse stutter wildly before thundering even faster.

‘You’ve always been bold. But you seem to have developed a penchant for the downright reckless.’

I toyed with the long ties of my favourite wraparound top and slowly inched the hem up until a sliver of my belly was revealed. ‘I don’t see you throwing me out the door, so I’m guessing you still love a good challenge.’

A blaze flared in his eyes as he followed the path of my fingers over my taut stomach. In honour of this visit and simply because great lingerie always boosted my confidence, I’d donned one of my latest creations: fire-engine-red French knickers with delicate lace and cheeky ribbon ties and a matching balconette bra. With my reclined position, the bodice of my top had gaped to reveal my deep cleavage.

Another breath hissed from him as his eyes darted between my face, my full breasts, and the thighs I was slowly spreading. He stumbled forward and gripped the back of the sofa the moment I loosened the top to reveal the full effect of the bra and bullet-hard nipples.

‘Fuck.’ The word shot from his throat.

My gaze went its own journey, over the ripped chest I knew was hidden beneath his dark burgundy shirt to the bold outline of his cock beneath the fly of his tailored trousers. My mouth watered at the heat he was packing. Heat I’d secretly craved for as long as I could remember. But as much as I wanted to touch and explore, the need to experience what he’d given me that night in our distant past burned even hotter.

And Bryce felt the same if the rough hands that hooked behind my knees and spread me wide were an indication. My already rough breathing turned choppier.

‘Stop playing with that tie and open your top for me,’ he said gruffly as his hands trailed over soft leather to wrap around my ankles.

With a shrug and tug, I opened it, then arched my back to give him a full and unfettered view of my ample breasts.

He swallowed, then began to tackle my trousers with a wild little light in his eyes that triggered my own arousal. I should’ve been pleased that at least in this, we seemed to be in accord, but a tight little ball of anxiety wouldn’t shift from my belly. What if we never found common ground again? What if the friendship that had been my whole world was never salvaged?

The questions evaporated when Bryce discarded my trousers and leaned forward to brace himself over me. For several seconds, he didn’t move, simply stared into my eyes. Was he thinking the same? I never found out because his eyes swept over me, singeing every inch of me until his gaze was once again riveted between my thighs.

‘Did you wear this underwear for me, rosebud?’

‘Nope. They were for me.’

He dragged his gaze from my silk-covered sex to meet mine. ‘You needed to shred my control that much?’ he muttered.

‘Maybe.’ It was a little unnerving how well he knew me. To throw him off, I trailed a manicured fingernail over one heavy breast to my lace-covered nipple and slowly circled it. He caught and mangled one corner of his lower lip between his teeth as his gaze latched onto the tightened peak. After watching for a tense few seconds, he brushed my hand away and replaced it with his. Sensation screamed through me as he fondled me, his gaze darting between my face and my boobs, avidly absorbing my reactions, before he dropped his head to suck lace and flesh into his mouth.

My hot little gasp eroded my intention to tell him that, technically, my boobs weren’t part of the deal. That his task was situated much farther south. But the havoc he was wreaking was too thrilling to deny, his fingers plucking at the nipple he wasn’t sucking, a sweet torture that dragged a keening moan from my throat, and I lost the battle to curl my hands over his broad shoulders, to take a bite out of his gorgeousness.

God, he was far too good at this. My panties were already damp and he wasn’t anywhere near my pussy.

My fingers tunnelled into his hair, holding him prisoner as his teeth grazed over one aching bud. Like a willing magnet, my back arched into his ministrations, desperate for more.

He raised his head a fraction. ‘Tell me this thing has a front fastening. I don’t want to ruin it.’

Breath in my throat, I shook my head.

‘Bloody hell,’ he growled, then dipped his hands into the lace and scooped out my boobs.

The erotic sensation of my double Ds spilling out made us both groan.

‘Christ, you’re so fucking lush,’ he muttered, slashes of colour staining his chiselled cheekbones. ‘There isn’t an inch of you I don’t want to taste.’

With needy hands I dragged him back, crying out when he latched onto my peak again. The suction was even more intense, tongue and teeth coming into deeper play.

‘God, yes,’ I gasped as he mercilessly tormented me.

Maybe the crazy depth of sensation careening through me was because I hadn’t had good sex for so long.

By our first wedding anniversary, Dan had been hard-pressed to perform the bare minimum. By our second, we’d been down to the cursory once-a-month three-minute humping in the shower to convince ourselves we had something remotely resembling a marriage. The transition from there to divorce had been a measly miserable nine months.

Or maybe I was feeling like this because this was Bryce. An older, edgier version of the boy who’d blazed a memorable trail in the public school I’d despised until his arrival had made my existence bearable, the rugby-loving hunk I’d hung out with in Cambridge, and the man who’d been my best friend for years before he’d removed himself from my life.

Whatever the reason for my heightened emotions, a particularly clever twist of his fingers dragged me back to the present, to the heated blaze of his eyes fixed on me as he tormented me.

I gasped again as he lowered his head, flicked his tongue brazenly over my wet flesh and then blew on it.

‘Bryce…’

He kept hold of one globe as he trailed kisses down my midriff and belly to the edge of my panties. Crouched over me like some dark overlord, he scoured his nails lightly over the skin above the panty line, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. He repeated the action a few times, his other hand still tormenting my nipple, and each time I felt myself getting shamefully wetter.

By the time his fingers dipped beneath the scrap of silk, I’d forgotten to breathe.

One bold finger glided between my folds and he groaned. ‘You’re so fucking wet. You’re close, aren’t you?’

‘Yes,’ I panted, my hips lifting off the sofa to meet his next glide.

He circled slow and sure, then dragged wetness to my clit. At the first touch, I let out another cry. He removed his hands from my body, repositioned himself with one knee on the floor while dragging my panties down my legs. Tossing the knickers aside, he spread me wide, his gaze zeroed in on my pink, glistening flesh. A rough breath shuddered from him.

‘Ah, rosebud. You’re still as beautiful as I remember.’ The quiet, almost reverent murmur made my heart lurch and, with his gaze fixed on my face, he slowly slid his middle finger inside me. ‘And just as bloody tight.’ He buried his digit to the hilt, then flicked it upward.

‘Oh, God.’ My thighs shook as pleasure rained through me.

Slowly, he finger-fucked me, his breaths harsher the louder I moaned. ‘Is that the spot?’ His voice was thick and hoarse.

‘Yes!’

He gave a low, masculine laugh, then proceeded to pile up the torturous pleasure. One finger became two, but, although the pressure was deeply satisfying, it wasn’t enough.

‘More,’ I demanded. ‘Put your mouth on me.’

He shifted again, dropping his head between my legs. My fingers immediately buried themselves in his hair, a part of me terrified he would stop.

He didn’t. And at the first glide of Bryce’s tongue over my clit, I screamed. By the third glide I was pleasure blind. But not deaf to the decadent sounds of his fingers inside me or his pained groans as I grew wetter, screamed my way to the edge and flung myself over it as he sucked my clit into his mouth.

Reality returned in a cascade of harsh breathing. When I opened my eyes, Bryce was standing at the window, his back to me, his shoulders rising and falling in a rapid movement that attested to his scramble for control.

Tension screamed in the distance between us as I hastily fixed my clothes.

When I was reasonably decent, I exhaled. Now what? I’d dared him and he’d gone for it. But from his rigid stance, nothing much had changed, except maybe for the worse.

I went for the direct approach. ‘Bryce?’

He turned without answering, his gaze heated but hooded.

‘Is our friendship worth salvaging or am I wasting my time trying?’

His shoulders stiffened harder. ‘You just exploded back into my life, rosebud. I’ll need a minute to consider that.’

My shoulders slumped. ‘I guess that’s that, then. I sent you a save-the-date for the launch. It’s going ahead whether I get a lease in your building or not. So I guess I’ll either see you there or I won’t?’

He shoved his fingers through hair I’d gloriously dishevelled, his eyes still a touch wild as they roved over me. ‘You’ve got what you wanted. You can sleep soundly tonight knowing you’ve proved whatever point you wanted to prove. Let that be enough for now.’

‘And if it’s not? What if I want my friend back?’

He stared at me in that unique way that always made my skin feel tight and raw and exposed. That way that said he saw and knew much more than he should. But while in the past I would’ve dropped my gaze, mumbled something along the lines of never mind or whatever, this time I met his gaze full on.

Dared him to say the words I knew in my heart would flay and wound. He didn’t disappoint me.

‘The guy you knew is gone. You’re doing us both a disservice by clinging to the past. It’s time to move on.’

I didn’t speak as he slowly strolled back to where I stood, praying my eyes wouldn’t mist with the tears prickling wildly.

‘My executive assistant will let you know if I can make it. If I can’t, have a great opening. I’m sure you’ll blow their socks off.’

‘Bryce—’

‘I have a meeting to get to. I’m sure you can find your own way out.’

And then, just as he’d done on my wedding day, he calmly walked out of the living room, the deafening silence left by his departure confirming what I already knew.

We’d crossed a line that night three years ago when I was forced to face the fact that the dream I was secretly chasing would never come true. That Bryce would never belong to me the way I fully and desperately wanted him to. That walking away instead of clinging to false hope had been the right thing to do then, and probably was now.

That really, when it came down to it, he didn’t want or need me. I was the girl who’d made him laugh when he was bored, who’d challenged his intellect and dug him out of his funk when the family drama he’d always been so tight-lipped about drove him into deep, scary silences.

Basically, I’d been useful as a crutch until he hadn’t needed me any more. Then when I’d needed him the most, he’d simply…walked away.

I’d seen the signs long before Bryce had left for good. The anguish of that distance, of being thrust farther and farther into the fringes of his life was what had made me give in that night, then made me deliver a promise I hadn’t been able to keep in the long run, my need to belong sending me down the wrong path.

And as much as I wanted to blame him, the one thing Bryce had never misled me on was that he would never become something more to me than a friend. No, that layer of torment was all down to me and my foolish yearning.

With a thick swallow, I crossed his stunning living room to retrieve my clutch. I paused for a beat, toying with the idea to confront him wherever he’d disappeared to, then dismissed it.

The best way to tackle an intransigent Bryce was to let him cool off. But if nothing else, this particular dare had proved one thing.

Bryce was still hot for me. I could either test the boundaries of this strange new world we found ourselves in, or heed his warning and back off.

In the lift, I leaned back and let a small smile slip free while the after-effects of the incredible orgasm trailed through my bloodstream as I contemplated my next move.

Twenty minutes later, I was back in the apartment I’d rented for the duration of my stay in Singapore. Padding on bare feet to the kitchen, I poured myself a glass of wine and sipped, my mind whirling with possibilities.

He was right. We weren’t the same people we were three years ago.

But he was very much a man. And I was a woman with needs who was done relying on the cosmos to dictate my destiny.

Friendship or sex?

Friendship and sex. I’d settled for one over the other once upon a time.

This time…

My heart lurched wildly as it accepted my truth.

This time I wanted both.