Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“I’ve been with you all night.” I say the words to her, but my eyes are on Scott. The look I give him does the trick. He lifts his hands in the air and backs away. Smart man.
“Dance with me.” She shuffles in closer and begins to sway her hips.
With her arms still around my neck, she tilts her head back and smiles up at me. Her green eyes, even glassy from her buzz, are beautiful. She’s beautiful. It’s getting harder and harder for me to keep all the assholes away from her.
“Come on, Coop. You can do better than that.” She then moves to straddle my leg and begins to rock her hips. My cock hardens, as does my grip on her hips.
Everything around us fades to black. It’s just me and her alone in this room. She drops her hands to her sides, brushing my cock as they fall, and I tense up. Closing my eyes, I try to think about anything but how fucking sexy my best friend is and how much I want her. I’ve been hit on countless times tonight, and not one of those women affected me the way Reese is at this very moment.
My Reese.
My best friend.
I’ve got to tramp this down. And I can start by stopping her from rubbing her pussy all over my leg. That’s all I can think about. My grip tightens further, and my leg, on its own, bends to give her better access.
Reese leans her head back, her hair falling over her back, and the long column of her neck is exposed. I can’t help but wonder how she would react if I were to lean in and trace her exposed skin with my tongue. Would she like that?
“Get it, girl!” Hank calls out, pulling me out of my X-rated fantasy about my best friend.
Drunk Reese is on fire tonight. She suddenly drops to the floor and shakes her ass before slowly climbing back to her feet. Her hands roam all over my body. She’s lost in the music, riding the buzz the cheap beer has given her.
Me, I’m stone-cold sober. I feel every touch, every sway of her hips, and it’s driving me insane. My plan is to stop her as soon as the song ends, but one fast song bleeds into another, and I find myself sticking with her out on the dance floor. I’m protecting her. Keeping all the drunk assholes from taking advantage of her in her inebriated state.
Finally, a slow song comes on. I open my mouth to ask her if she wants to get some air, but I freeze when she wraps her arms around my waist and rests her head against my chest. I wrap my arms around her, holding her close. There have been many times in my life where I wished things were different. Where I wished that she was mine. Not just my best friend but my girl. Tonight, that feeling is strong. That wish is loud and all-consuming.
When the song ends, she steps back and sways on her feet. “Coop.”
“Yeah?” I ask, brushing her hair back behind her ear. “I don’t feel so good.”
I jump into action, sliding my hand around her waist and pushing through the crowd. We reach the steps, and I lift her into my arms and carry her upstairs to the bathroom. As soon as her feet hit the floor, she wobbles to the toilet, dropping to her knees and expels the cheap beer.
Sitting on the edge of the tub, I gather her hair in my hands and hold it out of her face. She groans, and then buries her head in the toilet again. Reese doesn’t let loose like this very often. I’m glad that I stayed sober tonight. Sure, it was because of the upcoming game, but I’m glad I’m here to take care of her. To watch out for her.
“Kill me now,” she groans, resting her head on her arms that are lying across the toilet bowl.
“No one’s dying on my watch. You good?”
“I think so.”
I help her sit back and then grab a washcloth. I run it under cool water and hand it to her. She places it against her forehead and sighs. We sit in silence for a few minutes, nothing but the sound of the water running in the toilet mixed with the sounds of the party downstairs to fill the air.
“You think you can brush your teeth?”
“Maybe. Don’t let go of me.” She hands me the washcloth, and I toss it in the laundry basket, then offer her my hand. Carefully, I help her stand from her spot on the floor, and together, we move to the sink. I grab her toothbrush that she keeps here and add some toothpaste, running it under the water. I hand it to her.