J. Critch - In Her Best Friend's Bed

“You’re giving up men?” he asked. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. I’m no longer in the dating game.”

“So, you’re never going to date again?” He paused. “What about sex?” He crossed his arms, creating a safe distance between them.

She paused. “What about it?”

“Well,” he said, his smile smug, “I can’t be the only one with those typical urges. What are you going to do to fulfill those?”

“I didn’t say that I was giving up sex.” Abby rolled her eyes. “I’m just not going to be dating anymore. No more relationships.”

“Okay.” Trevor was still skeptical, but he was intrigued. “So, what exactly brought this about?”

“I’m glad you asked, Trevor. Let me tell you...” Her words ran together a little and he knew that they should go home, but he was having a great time. She held up her hand and grasped one finger in her other hand. “One—my tendency is to only go for these guys who want to settle down and get married immediately, and then expect me to have, like, twelve babies.” She screwed up her face in a scowl. “You know that’s not me. Never has been. And I always let them know where I stand on that. I tell them not to fall in love with me. I can’t help it that they do.” She stopped to take a breath. Trevor knew she wasn’t finished. “Then there’s all the losers, bad boys, playboys. I don’t want any more of those boys. There’ve been too many of those. So I decided that it’s best to not see any of them.”

“Okay,” Trevor said carefully. “Makes sense. Anything else?”

“Why, yes, there is.” Abby continued her list, grasping her second finger in her other hand. “Number two—at this point in my life, I can’t afford to be distracted from my path. I’ve been out of school for...what? Almost a year? I’m still here at Swerve, and again, I’m superappreciative,” she added for Trevor’s benefit, “but this isn’t how I imagined my life going. So if I were to meet a guy who I would even consider dating, he would only take up valuable energy that I need to make up for lost time and get back on the track where I should be.”

“Sure.” Trevor nodded. “And what about number three?” he asked, pouring them each another shot. He would definitely be paying for this in the morning. It had been a while since he’d had this much to drink in such a short span of time.

“Three—” Abby grasped a third finger. “Number three is my favorite. There’s nothing a man can regularly give me that my best vibrator can’t. And it won’t leave the toilet seat up.” She picked up her glass, sloshing the gold-colored liquor over the sides, spilling over her fingers. “Sláinte!” She drank and slammed her glass on the table.

Trevor’s eyes widened and he almost choked on the tequila that was still in his mouth. He managed to swallow it without spitting it across the table. “A man can’t give you anything more than your best vibrator can?” he laughed. “Is that so?”

Abby winked at him. “Diamonds aren’t always a girl’s best friend, Trevor. It’s a sad truth how replaceable you men are.” She shrugged. “Don’t look so shattered.”

“Honey, I’m not shattered,” he assured her, his voice lowered, and he moved in slightly. “I’m just sad. If you think a man is completely replaceable by a battery-operated appliance, then I’m afraid that none of the men you’ve been with have really, truly rocked your world.”

“Rocked my world?”

“That’s right,” he said casually.

Abby laughed. “Don’t worry about my world and how much it gets rocked. Unless you’re offering, that is.” She raised an eyebrow and reached out and touched his chest. The touch, playful at first, soon turned serious as her fingers lingered.

He had absolutely no response to that. Was he offering? So he chuckled instead. That was one of the things he liked about Abby. She was brash, funny and sassy. He liked all of that. She still had her hand on his chest.

Trevor looked down, watching Abby’s fingers curl over the material of his shirt, her fingernails singeing the skin underneath. She flattened her palm and smoothed it over his chest, and his breath stilled as he watched her hand move back and forth over his pecs. His muscles tensed in an involuntary reaction. His gaze rose from her fingers to her parted lips. How she made her cherry-red lipstick last all night, he had no idea.

He opened his mouth to speak, but how could he do that when his tongue refused to work in his mouth?

“Abby,” he whispered. He barely heard the murmur as it passed his lips, and he didn’t imagine that she’d heard it, either. But she looked up at him, her gaze didn’t waver, and all that Trevor was aware of was her hand on him, the pounding in his chest and the quick rush of blood that quickly made its way south, away from his brain, depositing directly in his lap.

In the center of his chest, her hand stopped moving, but she kept it where it was, light pressure on his sternum. There was no way that she could have missed the thundering of his heart, threatening to beat clear through his chest. The noise of it in his own ears was deafening. Neither of them spoke, and his eyes pinned on to hers. “Abby,” he whispered again.

Their breaths were matched, heavy. And she was so close to him that he could feel her warmth, smell the scent of citrus from her shampoo. She leaned in and looked up at him with large green eyes. A short tendril of hair fell into her eyes, and he reached out and brushed it aside. Need tugged at his chest and his dick. How easy it would be to pull her to him, rip off all of their clothes and make love to her in the booth.

But Trevor took a deep breath. They were friends, he maintained. He couldn’t have her. As long as she worked for him, he wouldn’t let himself have her. He was stuck in a volatile situation—the two of them, alone, drinking, and then add to this the fact that he’d seen her naked earlier that evening and knew she was absolutely flawless underneath the clothing that she was wearing...

“We should leave,” he murmured, trying to regain a hold on the situation. He placed his hand over hers. At first, he thought he would remove it, but he was powerless to push her away. So he held her there, her palm pressed against his chest.

“Yeah, we should,” she said breathlessly. She looked up at him and he peered into her bright green eyes. “Walk me home?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

* * *

ABBY BLINKED TWICE. Her brain was telling her that she needed to stand up. That they were leaving. But she couldn’t communicate that to her legs. She was frozen in place.

“Abby?” His voice broke through the fog behind her eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Are we leaving?” He removed his hand from hers and she pulled away from him.

“Uh, yeah,” she responded. “Let’s go.” She pushed away from the booth, and Trevor stood, as well. Her cheeks felt hot and his were reddened, too. Her gaze traveled down his front and settled on the impressive bulge behind his zipper, which showed that he was as affected by her as she was by him.

They were silent as they walked to the door. Trevor grabbed their jackets from the backroom and passed Abby hers. When he held the door open for Abby, she stepped outside. The night air had become much chillier since she’d arrived at the club earlier that day, and the small jacket that she had worn over her work clothes had little to no effect in keeping her warm, and, with Trevor weighing on her mind, she hadn’t thought to change into the suit she’d worn that day. Thank God she lived only a couple of blocks from the club and their walk would be a short one. Abby wrapped her jacket even tighter and folded her arms over her breasts.