If she had a lick of sense, yes, she would have, Bree decided an hour and half later as she locked herself inside her bathroom. The cool air conditioning was a kiss on her sweaty, overheated face and she stripped out of her clothes and just let it wash over her for a few minutes.
Colby was out in her living room. She tried to ignore her body’s instinctive response, the way her heartbeat skipped, the way her belly heated, the way her nipples went tight and hard and her sex wet and achy.
He was out there waiting.
Waiting for her.
A nice, friendly meal, she reminded herself, trying to cool the need raging inside her. She could handle a nice friendly meal. Sure.
She could do—
“Why does it have to be friendly?”
Alyssa’s voice startled her. Out of the blue and responding to something that Bree hadn’t said out loud. Narrowing her eyes, she searched the bathroom and saw nothing. A second sweep of the room ended up revealing Alyssa’s transparent form perched atop the bathroom counter, swinging her feet and watching Bree with a sly smile. “Do you have to do that?” she demanded, keeping her voice down.
Alyssa’s smile widened. “Do what?”
“Pop in and out like that.”
Alyssa shrugged. “Sorry. Can’t get used to this whole ghost deal. I thought you knew I was here.”
“You need a cow bell.” Turning her heel, she moved to the shower and leaned it to adjust the spray.
“And you didn’t answer me. Why does it have to be friendly?”
“Why can’t you just let this go?”
“Because I’m stubborn?”
Bree snorted. Stubborn. Okay. Pit bulls were stubborn, latching onto something and never, ever letting go. Alyssa was worse than that. “Not you,” she said, her voice mocking. “Stubborn?”
Alyssa lifted a brow. “No more stubborn than you. You’ve loved him half your life and don’t try to make me think otherwise. You never lied to me, don’t start now,” she warned, wagging her finger in Bree’s direction.
Blood rushed to her cheeks and she clamped her lips shut against the automatic denial that tried to come out. No point in lying about it, right?
But judging by the look on Alyssa’s face, she heard Bree’s thoughts as clearly as if she’d said them. Her best friend’s eyes narrowed and Bree glared right back. “Don’t go snarling at me, damn it. It ain’t my fault you went and got frickin’ telepathic on me. I’m allowed to think whatever I want to think.”
Alyssa’s irritated gaze faded away, replaced by one that wasn’t any easier to face. Sympathy. Hell, Bree hated anybody feeling sorry for her. “Of course you’re allowed to think what you want…and I’m sorry. If I could figure out a way to turn this off, I would. But it’s like…I dunno, some weird radio that tunes itself in and out and I don’t have much control over it.” She glanced toward the floor, as though she could see right through and see Colby down there.
He’d be pacing, Bree knew. Or getting a drink from her fridge, then pacing. The two of them together—Alyssa and Colby—had been like being around a live wire at times. Colby moved at a slower pace than Alyssa ever had but there was still a vague restlessness to it, as if he was thinking of other things nonstop and movement helped him deal with all those other things.
“He thinks of you. No matter what you think, that means something,” Alyssa said quietly.
“I doubt it. I don’t think it means much of anything,” Bree said. But there was a knot in her chest.
“And if you’re wrong? What if it means everything?”
Alyssa sighed and turned away. Her transparent body wavered in and out of focus and Bree knew from experience that she was fading and when she disappeared it would be a few days before she saw her friend again.
What if it means everything?
“I don’t believe in what-ifs, Alyssa.”
But Alyssa was already gone, leaving Bree alone in the room with Alyssa’s words rising to haunt her.
What if it means everything?
So what?
Alyssa said he thought about her. That could mean anything. Could be nothing. Before the ghost of Alyssa’s voice started to whisper any louder, Bree climbed into the shower, letting the pouring water drive away all conscious thought.
When the shower kicked on upstairs, Colby headed down to the basement on the pretense of going through Bree’s wine. It was as far as he could get from the bathroom without leaving the house.
He didn’t have to hear the water to get caught thinking about it, though. Just knowing she was taking a shower brought to mind images of her standing under the spray, that long, golden body naked and slick, water sluicing down over her shoulders, between her breasts, along the flat plane of her belly, beads of water catching in the curls that covered her *.
And immediately, his body reacted, his blood kicking up to a low boil and his cock swelling until he had to adjust himself. Fuck, he hurt. Just the touch of his own hand was pure agony. His balls ached something vicious.
You need to get laid.