Once Upon a Sure Thing (Heartbreakers #2)

He’s wildly aroused.

That’s all I need to know.

I part my legs, wrapping my thighs around his hips, tugging him closer. I need the full press of him against me. I need his tongue, his lips, and his hard length. I want all of him with every cell in my body, and I kiss him that way, telling him with my lips that I don’t want to hold back.

We’re quiet though, perhaps both keenly aware of the sleeping child, but in the silence, we kiss like desperate creatures. Wordlessly, mostly soundlessly, we get to know each other’s lips like we’re giving ourselves something we were denied six years ago. Like this kiss, so long in the making, is the only thing we can think of doing tonight.

We kiss as if the night won’t end, and as if choices don’t have consequences. There’s only the reward of sparks flying across skin, of blood heating, and of skin sizzling.

I rock my hips against him, desperately seeking more of Miller. His breath tastes like chardonnay and hunger, like he’s been wanting me with a madness. A madness that’s lasted for six years.

But I can’t and won’t forget that Chloe’s in the other room. I break the kiss and peek over the couch. Her door remains closed.

“We’ll hear her if she gets up,” he whispers.

“I know. But we can’t get naked with her here. Even in my room.”

“I know,” he says with a wicked grin. “But I love that you thought of that.”

I cup his cheeks. “All I want is to be naked and under you,” I say, and now I truly feel like I’m floating, like I’m falling. Because I’m not holding this in any longer. He groans, a sound so sexy I wriggle to get even closer.

He sucks on my jaw, whispering, “I want you so fucking much. But what are we doing?”

That’s the question. I don’t have the answer, and I’m not sure I can handle all that I want. I don’t think he can either, so I choose a half-truth. “Maybe we need to get this out of our system?”

“You think so?”

I nod, giving us permission. Judging from the heavy weight of his cock against my thigh, Miller needs the very same things I need.

Friction.

Connection.

Most of all, a seal of approval that this—whatever it is—won’t ruin us.

“But no sex. We’re not having sex tonight.”

He nods quickly. “We’ll just scratch the itch.”

“A sex-less scratch,” I add, and he laughs.

“And tonight—it won’t change anything?” he asks, like an attorney leading the witness.

“It won’t change a thing,” I whisper, wishing, hoping that’s true. Choosing to believe it for now.

“After this, we’ll go back to how we were. Friends.”

“Yes,” I reply. “Besides, everyone thinks we’re doing it already. Why should they be the only ones who enjoy our chemistry?”

He laughs. “I think we ought to benefit too.” He dips his face to my neck. “What do you think, Ally?” He drags his lips up to my ear, sucking on my earlobe.

I bite back a moan. “I think . . .”

He nibbles, and I can’t form sentences. “You think . . .?” he supplies, waiting for me to fill in the Mad Libs of lust.

I rock my hips against his hard-on, so thick in his jeans. God, I want to feel him inside me, sliding that hard cock into my wetness. “I think . . .”

I can’t get words out with him so aroused, with me so desperate. He licks the shell of my ear and my vision blurs. Heat pools between my legs, and I arch against him, eager and hungry.

“I want you,” I blurt out.

“I think the same thing,” he growls, his voice dirtier than I’ve ever heard it before.

I grab his ass, grinding up against him as he kisses my neck, sucks on my jaw. “Love that, baby. Do that again,” he whispers.

“What part?”

“The way you rub your sweet little body against my cock.” His dirty words send shivers of lust across my skin.

I work my hips up against him. He rewards me with a low groan in my ear. “Yeah, that reminds me of how you are in the studio.”

I thrust up again. “How am I in the studio?”

“Hot,” he whispers as his lips roam my neck. “Bothered,” he says, dusting them over my mouth. “And turned all the way on.”

I let out a small moan I can’t hold in. “I am. I am that way.”

“I know, and I love it. I love that the music turns you on. Makes you hot. Makes you wet.”

You turn me on, I’m dying to say, but I let him think it’s the music. It feels safer that way. “The music gets me so revved up. You too?”

Nodding, he swirls his hips, and then slams against me, and I swear, God, I swear, Miller dry-humping me is better than any sex I’ve ever had. “Fuck, baby. You’re getting me going.”

“Me too,” I whimper.

Tension climbs my legs, swirls in my belly. I tingle everywhere. I’m drowning in a sea of wild, erotic sensations as my best friend fucks me with his clothes on.

God bless snow.

God bless music.

God bless wild abandon.

I feel it with him, the crazy rush of sensations, the heavy throb of desire. Digging my fingers into his clothed flesh, I bring him as close as I can. I need all the friction to tip me over the edge.

I’m dying for it. I’m chasing it. I rock harder, faster. Senselessly.

“Yes, baby. Let go. Just fucking let go for me. Want you to come. Need you to come,” he urges in my ear, and I gasp, bite my lip, and let go, sparks and electricity flaring everywhere as I reach the crest.

I grab his face as my orgasm escalates. I need his lips to cover up my moans. I kiss him urgently, hiding my cries of pleasure.

When my orgasm ebbs, he’s gritting his teeth, breathing out hard. “Just. Trying. Not. To. Explode.”

I laugh. “I can take care of that for you.” I open my mouth wide, letting him know what I’d like to do with him.

He growls, as he drags a finger over my bottom lip. “Do not tempt me. We definitely can’t do that. But I want that so badly that now I’m going to think of my brothers.”

I blink in confusion. “Wha?”

He pushes up from me, waving a hand in front of his crotch. “Instant boner eraser.”

I crack up. “Brothers are good for that. By the way, we never worked on our next song.”

He shrugs. “Win some, lose some. We’ll work on it tomorrow. Our fans are eager for more of our . . . Hot Stuff.” He gives me a wink. “That was pretty hot.”

“It was,” I say, and then, because we’re playing with fire, I add, “Our music gets me in the mood for sure.”

“It’ll be our little secret that we’re turned on by our tunes.”

That’s what this will be. A secret we gave in to one snowy December night, because we believed in wine, and Sinatra, and the mad lure of quiet, calm New York to make us feel like the world had winked off.

But a little later, I’m curled up in Miller’s arms on the couch, and he’s cuddling me, and this doesn’t feel like giving in to a secret. This feels like giving in to the years.

That’s the problem.

The big problem.





Chapter 18





Miller



“You’re a good pillow,” she murmurs, as she snuggles into the crook of my arm.

“Use me, then,” I tell her, but she needs no invitation. She’s already there. Her eyes are falling closed, her breath turning steady and slow.

I sigh happily—too happily for my own good, as I stare at the window while white flakes drift down. Ally was right about falling snow. It’s a spell that lets you believe a moment won’t end. That tricks you into thinking it can last all night long.

I don’t want this moment to end. I want it to unspool into tomorrow and the next day too. Now, after midnight, the soft white flakes hypnotize me, convincing me that this thing could work.

This wonderful, fantastic, dangerous thing.

Her and me, wrapped up in each other’s arms, like the sun won’t rise in the morning and shine a light on all the ways we could crack.