Friends with Benefits - Nicole Blanchard Page 0,17

position and immediately wished I hadn’t. A groan came from behind me—a particularly familiar male groan.

Oh, God.

I turned and found that they weren’t kidding. Tripp and I were sleeping together. At some point, we must have passed out on the couch, and during the night, I’d wrapped around him like ivy on a pole. He still lay on his back with his mouth tipped open. My movement hadn’t woken him, and his legs were intertwined tightly around mine.

“Did you break up with Chris?” Tillie asked.

“It’s way too early for this conversation,” I said as I carefully disentangled myself from Tripp’s hold and got to my feet. The heat suffusing my body began to dissipate. “You two go get dressed, and I’ll try not to throw up everywhere.”

Their giggles followed them down the hallway. I was already doing a bang-up job at this sole guardian thing. I smacked Tripp on the arm. “Wake up,” I hissed.

He rolled over and shoved his head into the pillows. The ripple of bare muscle made me realize he wasn’t wearing a shirt. My throat went instantly, painfully dry. I’d noticed Tripp was a good-looking guy, I mean I’d have to be dead and buried not to, but it had never hit me so viscerally as it did at that moment.

It actually stole the words from my throat. Made me momentarily forget how bad I felt and the fact that the twins were still in the apartment. The powerful knit of muscle and sinew under his skin was a testament to the hours he spent in the gym each day training. There wasn’t an ounce of fat to be found, and I wasn’t sure if I should be jealous or appreciative. I settled on trying not to drool.

Then I remembered the conversation from the night before and wished the headache would kill me. I couldn’t believe I’d told him those things! I hadn’t even told Layla and Charlie about my sex life with Chris, and they were my best friends.

I was never drinking again.

I reached out a hand, and it hovered over Tripp’s sleeping body. Where was the most innocuous place I could touch him that wouldn’t make me think about how he said a guy would kill to make me come? His shoulder? Except, he had great shoulders. They made me think about what it would be like to grab hold of them with him on top of me. His arm? Nope. He had a pitcher’s arms. Strong and heavily-corded with muscles. He was all muscle. Everywhere. My gaze drifted down to his abs. Good God, he had fifty-seven of them.

I settled on poking him in the ribs with my eyes closed.

Super mature.

And also a bad idea.

He turned at my touch, and all those abs came into full view. I swallowed hard. His hair was matted with sleep and stuck out in odd directions. Tripp wasn’t brawny like Liam or broad like Dash. He was slimmer, more agile, his build well-defined and sleek. All toned arms and long legs. His hair was more dirty blonde than Liam’s and too light to be a true brunette like Dash. He wore it longer on top and in the front. A Japanese-style tattoo sleeve with cherry blossoms and shades of black and gray waves covered his left arm from shoulder to elbow.

How was it that I’d never really looked at him before?

His eyes opened, and I jolted back, surprise mixing with embarrassment for getting caught.

“What are you doing?” he asked while I tried not to stare at the way his stomach contracted as he sat up. His voice was gravelly from sleep, and I felt it touch me in all sorts of delicious new places.

It was like the fusion of alcohol and sleeping together had done something to my brain. There were all sorts of tactile and visual information I’d never paid any attention to before but spending the night next to him had rewired everything. Now I couldn’t help but notice everything I’d been hell-bent on ignoring before.

“Ember?” he asked when I didn’t respond.

“What?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.

Everything seemed to shoot back into focus. “I’m not looking at you like anything. I was trying to wake you up. We fell asleep on the couch, and the twins woke us up.”

“That would explain why my back is killing me. Your couch is sized for hobbits.”

“It’s not my fault you’re a giraffe.”

“What did you say about the twins?” he asked, rubbing at his eyes.

“They