Tonight, I want the fantasy.
He’s no longer my friend anyway. We’ll probably never be close again. So fuck it. For tonight, he can be a very memorable one-night stand.
“Here, this room looks unoccupied,” Knox whispers to me. “Care to join me?”
“This isn’t a room, it’s a closet,” I point out. “There isn’t any furniture to…to sit on.”
His eyes turn playful in response to my shy, timid comment, and his hand slides around my waist, pulling me into his chest. “Oh, we don’t need furniture, doll. Besides, you can sit on top of me.”
Oh God, that cocky smile, the dimples that pop out… When he looks at me with that expression, with that face and those eyes, it’s too all-consuming to say no. I can’t resist such temptation, even if it is totally nuts. But since I’m about to do something completely out of character for one night, I may as well go all out crazy. With Knox, and this energy surging between us, it’s bound to be out of this world.
He studies my face and probably realizes that my opinion has changed without my having to express it. That knowing smirk rises up on his face, and he grabs my hand and pulls me along to join him inside the tiny shoebox of a room. There’s so little space that my body presses right up against his as the door swings shut once more, shrouding us in darkness. I can feel Knox’s sexy, muscular, grown-up body, and I know for sure he has to be able to feel my hammering heart. It makes my desperate desire for him obvious, which should be something I feel embarrassed about, but weirdly I don’t.
I want Knox, much more than I’ve ever wanted another man before. It’s without a doubt the first time I’ve ever felt such a strong tug of attraction to anyone. The idea that it might be the alcohol doesn’t discourage me. All I want is to have his hands, his lips, his body on me, to know what my former best friend feels like up close, to finally get my chance to be his girl of the hour, his one-time fling. I can’t wait to see what will happen next. The thought that Knox is far more experienced in playing the field than I am, well it’s a bonus for me, maybe not so much for him, considering my very limited experience in the lovemaking department. Sure, I’m no virgin, but I can count the number of partners I’ve slept with on one hand—on two fingers, if I’m being honest.
“I’m a little surprised we’re here,” Knox whispers lustfully as he traces a finger lightly down my cheek. “I didn’t think you’d want me this way.”
I don’t answer that, mainly because I’m honestly not sure how to. We don’t need a tiny closet to talk about what went wrong with our friendship. I won’t fool myself with delusions of an impending heart to heart that ends in going back to what we were for each other ten years ago. That ship has sailed and we both know it.
Instead of addressing his comment, I shut down any of my remaining hopes by grabbing onto Knox’s shirt collar. I drag his lips back to mine, close my eyes, and step into the moment. Doubts and questions can’t get in the way while our bodies are in such intimate contact. He says my name against my lips and I lose myself completely when his hands find the zipper at the back of my dress. I slide hot, trembling palms up along the front of his shirt, appreciating the feel of what are some wonderful abs, vaguely wondering what his skin might taste like.
Too bad there’s not enough space in here for me to maneuver myself around. Or down. For now, all I can do is touch with my fingertips. Knox pulls from our kiss, wraps his hands around my waist and lifts me off the floor, and with no thought whatsoever, my legs wrap around his hips, causing my dress to ride up my thighs. He presses my back up against the door behind me. Our bodies are wedged together and I feel every inch of his thick erection, hard as steel against my lower belly, and my arousal ramps up another level. I’m drenched between my legs just knowing he’s hard as a rock for me. My body wants to know what he’ll feel like inside of me.
It’s clear to me that he’ll be different from my last two times. My only two times from years ago. For one, it’s Knox. He’s the man of my fantasies. He’s the man I’ve loved as a friend, and for a while, I hated him too. On top of that, he’s big. Huge. Well-endowed with the skill to use it and the expertise to break my will and have me begging for more. At least, that’s what the girls in high school use to say.
“You’re so fucking wet, gorgeous,” he moans at my ear. “Soaking wet… just for me, pretty girl.”
His words make me feel sexier and dirtier than I thought possible, and I freaking love it. I could never convince myself that I was pretty. To have this devastatingly handsome man tell me things he used to say repeatedly back when we were friends, and in this new, hot and sensual context, it’s addicting. In that moment, I know one time won’t be nearly enough. But I won’t set myself up for future pain. More than once is not in the cards for us.
My dress hitches up higher and Knox’s mouth moves away from my ear
