Friends with Benefits - Nicole Blanchard Page 0,22

seemed to be touching her hair. It was like candlelight, the way the reds and golds flickered and blended. “Maybe,” I answered—when I remembered she’d asked me a question.

Keep your hands to yourself, Wilder.

Easier said than done.

Chapter Nine

Ember

Tripp’s hands on me after spending the night twisted up with him made me want to shiver, but I locked my muscles and ignored the urge. I had to ignore a lot of urges these days where he was concerned. I knew he was interested, or at least he used to be a couple of years ago, but we were friends now—or so I thought.

I’d specifically told him when we first met that we couldn’t be together. I had had too much on my plate. School, work, the kids. My parents. I had told him it would be better if we could just be friends.

Was it the recent heartbreak that had me clinging to Tripp for the attention and affection he so readily gave?

If so, I was being a shitty friend. Sending mixed signals. Being needy and wishy-washy.

“Am I a terrible friend?” I asked.

His fingers drifted from my hair down to squeeze my shoulder. “What makes you say that? Of course not.”

I couldn’t very well tell him that I was thinking about jumping his bones because I thought it would soothe all the hurt away, so I said, “I’ve been so selfish recently. I just want to make sure I’m not taking advantage of you.”

Was it my imagination—or perhaps desperate hope—or did his grey-blue eyes light up at the thought? My skin prickled with heat, and my nipples beaded under my shirt.

How had I gone all this time and not realized how incredibly kissable his lips were?

He coughed and shifted on the couch. “You’re not taking advantage of me, angel.” The words were innocent, but my fevered brain wondered if he’d mind if I did take advantage of him.

I needed help. Clearly.

Maybe I was having some sort of mental breakdown.

“You sure? You can tell me if I’m being too crazy or whatever.”

“Shut up,” he said affectionately. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t put up with your crazy?

“A sane one,” I answered.

“Then I guess we’ll be crazy together.” He tugged at my hair, then rubbed a hand down my arm. “Since you’re keeping me prisoner, wanna watch a game till the twins get home? I know how much you love sports.”

I nodded, but I was only half listening.

That’s what I liked about him. What I’d liked since we first met. He never backed down when things got too intense. Even when I thought the drama of my life would scare him away, he was always there. Patient. Kind. Unassuming. Totally different from the arrogant jerk I’d initially thought he was.

He settled back into the couch and propped his feet up on the footstool, his arm thrown companionably over the back behind me. It could have been suggestive, but with him, it felt right. It felt natural. There weren’t butterflies in my stomach, so to speak.

They were more like fireflies. Lazy, fat, meandering fireflies that emitted a warm, bright glow. The light filled me from the inside out.

“You paying attention, angel? The Falcons are playing. I know how much you can’t wait to see me on the field in that uniform.”

I smiled at his off-hand comment. Well, he was still an arrogant jerk, but maybe people weren’t always so black and white. He could be arrogant, but he could also be spectacularly kind and gentle, especially with the twins.

And—I’ll admit—with me.

At first, I thought it was a ploy to get in my pants. It wouldn’t have been the first time a guy tried to be nice and considerate only to pull a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde deal once the sun came up. But even when I had turned him down, even when one year had passed, then two, then three, he was still the same old Tripp. Maybe a little more settled than the skirt-chaser he’d been as a freshman. But he was still Tripp.

Still the boy who’d always made me feel…more right in my own skin.

I couldn’t help but compare him to Chris, my one and only long-term relationship.

With Chris, it had been nice, not fireworks like I’d imagined, but I’d liked giving him pleasure. I liked the connection forged during intimacy. But it’d never been…I don’t know…entirely comfortable. Now that I thought about it, sex had always been about making sure his needs were met instead of exploring