I was once in a car accident.

Oh, nothing serious, more shook up than anything else. I was fresh out of driving school, cocky with my shiny new licence and my brand new-to-me cherry GMC Terrain small SUV when I missed a stop sign because I was busy changing the radio station (thank you, Josh Turner) when another car came out of nowhere.

Luckily, we were both only doing the bare minimum speed and no real damage was done save for some body work bumps, but for months afterwards I had god awful anxiety every time I got behind the wheel. After daddy ripped me a new one, told me I didn't deserve to be on the road if I was going to endanger another person and how would I feel if that was someone else putting momma in danger, he really laid the guilt into me, scared me stupid, but to this day I still remembered that same dread, the gut clawing anxiety of what happened and just how disappointed daddy was in me for being reckless.

How one stupid second can change your entire life.

A lot can change in a second, Sena. He'd told me.

And he was so right.

I'd blinked and the relationship I’d had with Noah changed because of what I’d witnessed between him and Tom, and now I’m left with my guts in knots and a head full of unanswered questions, my heart bruised, and it had only been a split second when I'd taken my eyes off the road.

I never meant to hurt you, kitten.

But you did.

Oh, but you did.

“That night in your bed … why did you really touch me?” My voice cut through the silence we’ve been comfortably lying in for maybe thirty minutes. After Noah rolled off the bed and came back with a cloth to clean me, much to my protests, he then returned a few minutes later once he’d closed the house down, carrying a glass of ginger ale from the fridge for me before he slipped back into bed.

There we lay saying nothing.

Not touching, just sharing the same space.

His eyes are on me through the darkness.

A brand of penetrating blue.

It’s a scalding caress. I longed for him to reach out and touch me, take my hand, something.

Neither of us did.

It’s the infamous night in question that was the domino effect all these weeks later.

 

“I can help you out with that.”

“With what?”

“With your needy little clutching body.”

“I think you should let me, Sena. I think you want me to.”

“Are you going to let me in these shorts? To find out what all the fuss is about, to feel a too tight wet pussy with my fingers, Sena?”

 

The suggestive memory was both one of the best nights of my life and equally fucking stupid as far as I can tell. On any given day the last two weeks I’ve bounced back and forth between bad idea, shitty idea and both don’t make me feel good. We should never have crossed the line. Now it’s unclear.

I turned my head on the white pillows to look at him. Far from seeing a hint of guilt, shame or regret as I’d expected at the mention of that night, Noah was relaxed, not surprising, he fucked me good and hard, exerted himself like an athlete, but there was something more in his eyes.

Tenderness.

He cared for me, I knew this.

We’ve been friends for so long sometimes I forget how close we are. I used to say he was like my left arm and being right handed I would miss him if I lost it because opening Ben and Jerry’s one handed is difficult.

He would laugh and knock a fingertip to the end of my nose in that silly Sena way that would always make me happy.

If not for the huge complication that crash landed in both of our lives I might have chalked up our few weeks together as just a sexual itch and moved back to being besties.

We were amazing friends.

Me and my stupid crush.

The fucking amazing sex.

His perfect, addicting dick.

A lot of factors weighed in to show how much of a mistake we’ve made.

Really, it’s not just my imagination, our sex was —is as of thirty minutes ago— amazing. No one ever made me feel what Noah does, but for friendship, the connection of keeping him in my life no matter who his life partner may be, even if I’m internally spitting on Tom’s Prada shoes, I would have reconciled myself to that role again.

Lovers move on, it’s no big deal, shouldn’t be as big of a deal as I’m making it.

But as the saying goes; we’re up shit creek and about to capsize.

Because, baby.

We’re having a B A B Y. If I don’t say the word it won’t be true.

I want kids. Don’t get me wrong, I want kids. At least, I think I do.

There’s no actual confirmation of it besides the pregnancy kits I peed on and the gnawing sickness that plagued me like a flock of zombies after brains.

So yeah. Complication city here we are, citizen of two.

I waited and waited. And then he faced me. Looked me directly in the eye, the storm of it was no less effective, tumbling heat through me as if he didn’t just pound me into a climax or three.

I assumed he wasn’t going to answer. When.

“I wanted to. I needed to.”

Needed to?

He needed to touch my pussy that night?

My toes curled under the sheets.

Mouth dried. “Really?”

“I don’t lie to you.” He twitched a corner lip smile and rolled sleekly onto his side, propped by an elbow, using his hand to hold up his head.

With two feet of bed space between us, I felt the heat of him under the sheet. He radiated like a volcano. That kind of body temperature shouldn’t be natural.

“I wanted you for a long fucking time, Sena and I held off acting on it because of that bullshit reason of not wanting to screw up our friendship.”

It kind of is a bullshit reason not to dive head first into a romantic relationship, life is too short to hold back, and if he’d been straight you can bet your last month's rent I would have been all over Noah like fleas on a skunk that very first night. I wouldn’t have waited, I would have acted on my attraction to him, I possibly would have acted on it again through the years, just to test the waters, to see if he’d changed towards me.

For the fact he was —is— fricking queer, and supposedly all the way queer, no deviation to pussy town until me, I never chanced telling him how I felt.

I hung back and crushed on that villain from his sofa and was so happy with our friendship.

Friendships like ours is rare.

Noah diving his hands into my shorts and stroking me to orgasm changed everything.

And excuse me——he wanted me!

My belly flutters went into free fall.

It finally penetrated through the haze in my brain. I didn’t mishear that. He spoke clear with his usual gruffness in his voice, but it’s discernible.

He’d wanted me all along.

It hadn’t been spontaneous. Or a fluke.

Noah had wanted me.

Those words sounded peculiar.

I don’t even know if they’re in the right order, but they sound foreign to my ears. He’s speaking Japanese or something.

I finally spluttered. “You wanted me? It was predetermined and not spur of the moment? How? But…” I’d thought it had been some spontaneous side-step from queerness that night. Or maybe Noah was just damn horny and used my body. To hear he wanted me before that and finally acted on it…

My mind blew fucking glitter everywhere.

And then, I laughed a little and rubbed my eyes.

Fuck. I really am screwed now.

My heart gave a little shove, telling me to be brave, to ask everything I need to know. “Look, I know it sounds idiotic now giving the fact of where we are and what we’ve done recently and before but, you are gay yet wanted me? In that way?”

“Kitten, it’s not idiotic. Why do you think I held back? If I had no answers for myself, how was I meant to give them to you? I ached to get my hands on you so fucking badly and finally I said fuck it and tested the waters by seeing if you’d want it too, in a cheesy as fuck way.”

He smirked, reached out to knock a dark strand of hair out of my eyes.

It’s as though I tasted my heartbeats. Thump. Thump. Thump. Each one was irregular and loud. If he saw my soul shining out of my eyes as he gazed at me he didn’t mention it which I’m glad for.

As ballsy as my claims are for what I would have done, I’m terrified of being rejected, or being left behind, of not being good enough.

Of losing him.

That’s a big fucking fear.

Cinderella danced with her prince and that bitch ran away.

Okay. Terrible analogy, but my mind was reeling and I’m smiling and feeling sick all at once.

“I’m besotted with you.” He confessed. My eyes pinged open. “I always have been. It just altered from one thing into another. I can’t answer why. Or why you. Or why now. It’s a feeling in me, and I don’t question it. I haven’t driven myself crazy needing to know why this is happening when no other woman has ever stirred me in the same way. Only one woman. Only you, Sena. But never doubt what I feel. It’s real.”

I’m not proud of the startled noise that came out of me.

I kind of open and closed my mouth before slapping a hand over it.

I wanted to launch myself at him and lick him all over.

“The first time you made my dick hard. Fuck.” He laughed, and I gawked, my mouth falling open again in that surprised what the fuck way.

“Wait. Back the truck up. The first time? It wasn’t the night we fooled around?”

“No. It was one morning you were going to yoga in a pair of those indecent pink shorts you like to wear. You bent down to tie your shoes. I’ve never got hard so fast.” He twitched a smirk and left the rest unsaid.

I choked. “You dirty pervert. I never knew.”

Noah winked.

It’s good I’m lying down; all my bones have disintegrated.

I’m telling you, men make women stupid. What with their gorgeous dicks and stupid, sexy crooked, villainous smiles and good smelling necks. All of them make us stupid at one time or another.

My mouth gaped open and closed, soundless.

I searched for the right words in the right order to reply.

Noah waited patiently, seeing as how the ball and decisions were in my court.

He’s made me stupid.

“I don’t. I mean. How. Well. Shit.” I blushed cherry red, the flood of heat in my belly draws my attention to the fact he’s slid his hand through the sheets and started rubbing my stomach right up to the valley between my breasts and back down again.

That big, firm body moved across the bed, coming towards me, his fingers hot on my skin. I breathed in and held it.

Held it some more.

Held it until my lungs protested.

It’s not possible to look away from him, he’s a magnet for my eyes.

The man was just too much, more so knowing there’s only a thin layer of sweatpants between us. We all know my reaction to him in dick-print pants. I’m practically licking my chops when his ripped body came up against mine, he leaned over me, eyes on my mouth as he descended

I’m ready to be kissed.

Lips puffy ready.

Body aching ready.

His fingers rested right under my boob, almost touching, the peak ached for attention as he just kind of caressed the under-boob skin.

Dear, god. How he tortured me.

I’m on fire, anticipating the friction he’ll give me.

“I want you, kitten.” He declared, an inch from my mouth.

He’s so close I tasted his air.

A delicious shiver rocked through me.

There’s that word again; want.

He’s so near if I were able to drag my eyes from his I could count the whiskers on his strong jawline.

There’s ample opportunity for me to reach up and meet him halfway, it’s a miracle how I don’t slut-pounce him and wrap my legs around his head. There’s no shortage of desire in me right now. It puddled, and it curled around every corner of my body.

I whimpered, and Noah smiled dipping that last inch.

I feel his mouth.

A whisper of a brush.

I wanted him. I wanted him, too.

But then that’s never been in question for me.

I’d always known it.

Knowing he wants me was … staggering.

New. And still so confusing.

“What about Tom?” I blurted right before Noah could dive for my tongue.

We stilled.

He breathed against my lips, his fingers continued their exploration moving to cup a full achy boob, he teased the nipple with his thumb and I hollowed my back pushing up for more. “Are you seeing … dating him again? I saw you with him, Noah.”

He dropped his head into the side of my neck and sighed.

Then he met my eyes.

“I know you did. So, let’s deal with that first so we can get to what’s important.” He cupped my belly.

The baby. God. Why do I keep forgetting about that?

I'm going to make the worst mother.

“Can you move?” He’s immovable.

My hands on his chest don’t even shift him an inch. He just pressed into my hands. “Noah. I can’t talk about this, about him with you lying between my legs.”

“Yes, you can.” Without putting his full weight on top of me, he settled both our chests together, resting his arms on either side of my head. There’s no escaping him or his intense gaze as he watched me.

I meet him head on.

Fine. If this is how he wanted to do it.

“I saw you in your club with him. You haven’t even told me that jerk was coming back around you again. He fucked you over and you’re letting him back in? You’re a big boy, you can have whatever toxic shit in your life you choose, but I won’t sit around and watch it, Noah. I won’t. I’ll end up punching the smirk right off his face.”

He was worried we’d ruin a deep-rooted friendship if he acted on new feelings he’d never experienced before, and I would have obliterated a friendship all over the hardwood floors if he’d ever given me a slight hint at how his feelings were changing towards me.

It’s the age old saying; can men and women be friends and not bump hips?

Of course, they can. Plenty do. It doesn’t mean they haven’t entertained the thought. We are all creatures under our skin and moralities. We think of sex more than anything else. Okay, I think of cheese more than sex, but then addictions need attention. After cheesy pasta, I am totally thinking of sex. Wanting sex, fantasizing about banging my favorite actors.

It’s how humans work.

And so, amid all that, knowing how I would easily cross the friendship line, now and four years ago, we keep banging up against the gay line.

It’s hard to miss, really.

“Are you bisexual now?” It came out of me before I could stop it.

I once had a gay guy in a club lecture me for twenty whole minutes on how he didn’t believe in bi or pan, that it was an excuse for a gay man/woman to pretend they’re ‘normal’ I recalled laughing in his face and rolling my eyes.

That word normal is so fucking insulting to every human being, it has zero to do with sexuality and all to do with accepting your own skin.

“Which do you want me to answer first?” His voice heavy and rough and raw scraped over me. Not a hint of amusement. Noah took my questions seriously, as I tried to ignore the hardness digging into my slit, my legs moved slightly to let him drop further between them and he grunted, settling in.

Just like home.

“I know what you think you saw. I’m not dating Tom.” He informed tersely. “I’m not fucking Tom again,” he went on before I could distinguish between dating and sex.

There was a sweep of relief in my chest.

“I don’t like that you fucking ran from me, Sena,” teeth clenched. “My kitten doesn’t do that shit, but we’ll come back to this.” He brushed the hair from my face, held my cheek in one hand, until he made sure I looked up at him, not dancing my gaze away.

He waited for me.

Only when our eyes locked did he go on. I almost hit him for taking so fucking long. A girl in my position, literally the intimate position he’s got me in, making me hot as hell and itchy in all my places, has no time for silence and time lapses.

He gave me the backstory of how he knew I saw him with Tom.

He’d expected me at the club that night, but no sooner was I inside I saw Tom all up in Noah’s personal space as if the pair were about to kiss. I know all this already, I’ve lived with it plaguing my brain for two weeks, what I don’t know is how he knew. He went on to inform the bouncer saw me rush out minutes after I arrived and concerned he reported it to Noah who in turn tried to call me, a call in which I ignored, so super sleuth that he is, as all villains are, assumed a guy might have hassled me so he went through the security footage and watched me watching him and Tom.

I listened to him relay his version of the same story and realized just how different both versions were.

“You could have just told me that jerk-off was back, so I was better prepared to watch you suck face.”

Noah snorted, which he somehow made sexy, and kissed the tip of my nose. “We weren’t kissing—

I scowled. “I mean, really, Noah, of all men in this world you could have, you let that walking, talking ego—”

“—he leaned in to tell me I told you so.”

“—and furthermore, he’s a dickhe——wait, what?” I stumbled over my words, his penetrating tone finally broke through my tirade of my one woman hate campaign against the male model. “You weren’t making out with him and you’re not getting back together with him? At all?”

Noah’s brow is the most arrogant thing on his face after his smirk. He set both in motion.

Oh.

Frick. Me.

It seemed I’ve made a grave error.

A technical difficulty set on fucking fire.

Two weeks. My mind screamed.

What have I done?

All the humiliation, anger, and sadness trickled away like it hasn’t plagued me every hour.

I wasted two weeks on this fabricated in-my-own-goddamn-head situation.

Baby, you’re your own worst enemy. My momma’s voice was strong, and a little authoritarian in my head.

She’s not wrong.

“God.” I cursed, rubbing my forehead, over my closed eyes. “Why didn’t you just tell me? You know I saw him at your place a few weeks ago?”

“No, I didn’t know that.”

“He gloated right in my face how he’d take care of you. I wanted to punch him in his nuts.”

Noah chuckled a little and kissed the hand held over my eyes. I feel … ridiculous. And sad. I’m sad I wasn’t more trusting. I’ve been so submerged in the melodrama of my own crush and heartbreak as I saw it I wasted all this time.

I glared up at him when something occurred to me. “Why is he back? He wants you, obviously.”

Smirk.

Bastard.

He knew his attractive levels were off the chain.

“Tom understands there’s nothing there for me now, we were never that serious to begin with.” This was news to me. I always assumed Noah had feelings invested in that Tom era. “I was an accessory for him, a rich man to make him look good and get him in places, and he was entertaining. It was good for what it was.” He explained. “He has a business he wants investment for and came to me first.” My brow inverted, and he went on to give details of the restaurant in midtown.

It was something Noah had wanted to branch into for a while.

“Good luck with working with that glitter covered ball-bag.”

Chuffing a laugh, he pressed a kiss to my throat, my hand curled around the back of his neck holding him there. “He speaks highly of you too. It will be investment only, no hands on, for the restaurant or him.”

I pulled his head up. Eyes narrowed. “He calls me names?”

“He wouldn’t dare say a word against you in front of me. He tried it only once and discovered his severe blunder in doing so.”

My forehead was receiving a good frowning workout.

“What do you mean?”

Sensing the conversation wasn’t over by far, Noah sighed and rolled to the side of me, keeping us connected with his arm slung across my torso. The sheet long since had been pushed to the bottom of the bed so the full effect of him was on display.

Hard bumps. Tanned skin and just miles of gorgeous Noah.

I gulped and dragged my eyes off his body.

He caught me checking him out and grinned.

Bastard.

“He had a few complaints, years ago, how you and I were too close. That you got in the way of him and me.”

I hissed. “That low-down filthy liar!” Rolling to my knees, the bed soft under me, it supported without tipping me over as my tirade got going. “I never got in his damn way! Wasn’t I always leaving you alone when that clothes-horse came over? Didn’t I always decline invites to go out for dinner with you two? Even when he offered me tickets to fashion week, yeah, thanks for that dickdouche, I knew it was only to look good in front of you, didn’t I say no thank you? Yes, I fucking did, that jackass. Oh, my god, I’m madder than a wet hen!” I fumed.

What a jackass. “Here’s a clue, you over inflated ego, don’t suck someone else’s dick and maybe you wouldn’t have lost your boyfriend, it had zero to do with me and my friendship.”

Meanwhile over in Noah’s part of the bed he laughed at me.

I glared daggers.

This was not funny.

He dragged me over his chest, palmed my butt, squeezed it tightly enough to make it hurt and feel good, shooting pleasure landed in my mid-section. “You’re so fucking sexy when you get southern. Your drawl is licking all over me.”

I hit his shoulder. This was no time to get smooth. I settled onto his chest and muttered some more about Tom. “I won’t eat at his stupid restaurant.”

Pout. Glare. “I’ll report him for cockroaches. That sucks for you being an investor, but whatever.”

One side of Noah’s lips elevated, his eyes sparkled mirth. “I put you first, kitten. He knew it then and knows it now. It’s why he was telling me I told you so.”

“He knows what?”

“When you saw us together and put two and two coming up with fifty. I was letting him know you are mine.” I sucked in air like a landed fish. “And I’m yours.”

Oh.

My.

Days.

His honesty lit me up.

“He said he’d known it all along.”

Suddenly I’m rolled onto my back, Noah prowled over me, his eyes looked almost black, the desire clear.

Desire for me.

I’m so giddy I could spit.

“You didn’t answer. Are you bisexual now? I mean, you must be, right?”

Shut up, Sena. Why do I need everything dotted and crossed? I’m trying to act cool, I really am, but unfortunately, I’m one of those people who wear every emotion out there for all to see, not only on my sleeve but pouring out my eyeballs and most of all my giant mouth.

I’m a reacter. I react before my brain engaged. Case in fucking point my disappearing act.

God.

God.

Why?

Just accept he wants his dick inside you, Sena. I can hear India in my head. What the hell does it matter if he was gay as a canary all his life and now he’s boning you? She’d tell me. I love the simplistic attitude of India. She’s one of those friends who has your back, would like everything you post on social media, even the fugly selfies you filter for hours, and she’s a constant peer support for any piece of friend happiness.

But, but, but, she isn’t the one ten levels deep in love with their gay lover.

God. That sounded ludicrous even to my own crazy brain.

I, Sena Black, have a gay lover.

Oxymoron or what?

I scowled at imaginary India and poked Noah’s ribs.

“I’m always going to be queer,” he answered evenly. My brain melting into my stomach. What in the hell does that even mean? Is he fucking me for sport? Am I the latest app we become obsessed with then forget two weeks later? I’m ready to spit expletives in his gorgeous, calm face. “This is what I know, Sena. I fucking want you, crave you, desire you more than I have anyone else in my entire fucking life, but I don’t want to fuck other women. If anything, I’m Sena-sexual.”

He sounded ridiculously sexy when he cursed. I tried not to drool.

“You’re a drug in my blood I won’t quit, can’t quit and wouldn’t even try to.” Cupping the back of my neck, he used those long-tapered fingers to pull me down into his face, breathing the same air. His rapid heartbeat through his chest and into mine.

Kisses streaked across both cheeks, down to my neck, along my chest and back up again.

I’m lost in his scent, in the whisper way he touched me bringing my body to life. No one has ever been like Noah and I suspected no one ever will be.

My heart recognized only one.

Belonged to only one.

Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on which way you look at it so does my pussy.

It wanted the queer and no one else will do.

“You and I are connected, Sena,” he whispered scraping starved kisses along the shell of my ear. I moaned into him, clawing at his waist to have him nearer. He’s impossibly thick and hard between my legs, bumping my clit like he knew exactly what he was doing driving me this mad. “I want you, don’t fucking doubt that. All of your crazy, beautiful, sexy and amazing self.”

I preen, excluding the crazy bit. I’m an average woman with healthy levels of reactionary emotions that by no means equate to insanity. My momma would have had me tested if she suspected crazy runs through me.

Before I could utter a word or beg him to bang my brains out he licked my lower lip. “Now, you can tell me about my baby.”

He hummed, settling a warm hand on my hip.