I’m fucked! I’m fucked! I’m fucked! I repeat to myself as we drive home from the strip club.

“So . . . are we gonna talk about what happened, or are we going to act like it was nothing and just keep ignoring one another?”

“What is there to talk about?” I fake ignorance, which she doesn’t buy.

“Uh, that I felt up my best friend and now things are fucking awkward between us.”

“It’s no big deal, Fallon. Would you just forget about it?”

“I can’t.” She slurs the words, obviously drunk.

“Well, you need to forget about it.”

“How? I held your fucking cock in my hand and—”

“And that’s it.” I cut her off, loving my cock and her hand in the same sentence more than I realized.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me you’re so hung?”

“Fallon!” I laugh at her and shake my head as we park back at my place.

“What? That isn’t something I would keep a secret.”

“From my best friend, it is,” I tell her and turn the truck off.

She rolls her eyes, and I nod toward the condo. I just need to get her to bed. To her bed—without me—and hope she forgets about all this by the morning.

“I’m sorry I got so drunk and grabbed your very large cock.” I help her out of the vehicle and up to the door, and she wobbles the whole time.

“It’s fine, thanks for the compliment.” I grin.

“I’m such a fuckin’ lightweight.”

“Yeah, you are.” I laugh again and walk her to her room. She yawns and falls backward against the bed. Her silk shirt rides up exposing her stomach and my cock twitches looking at her like this. Jesus, she is so gorgeous. I can’t help but think about earlier as I stare for a little too long.

“Night,” I tell her and turn off the light.

“Hey, can you bring me a water?” she hollers after me.

Shit, I was so close.

I grab a bottle from the refrigerator, and when I get back, she’s sliding her jeans off. I can’t stop myself from watching.

Is she trying to kill me?

Her pink lace panties are so fucking hot; I want to pull them off with my teeth. She bends to get her foot unhooked from the bottom of her pant leg, and I have to turn.

“Here’s your water.” It’s the best I can come up with as I hold my hand out for her to take the bottle from me. When she does, I stride from the room, looking down at my frustrated dick, which is screaming at me to release the built-up tension.

“Night, Parks.” Her voice is the last thing I hear before closing my bedroom door behind me.

* * *

I didn’t sleep for shit last night, I even jerked off to see if that would help relieve the residual tension, but it didn’t help. Nothing helped. In fact, jerking off got me so hot for Fallon that I had to leave and go for a midnight run.

I ran for what felt like hours to clear my mind as I searched for the answers to my dilemma, but still found nothing. I always keep coming back to the same thing. How the risk of telling her how I really feel is not going to be worth the reward, because I won’t give in, no matter how much my body wants me to . . . I just can’t.

I respect Fallon too much and depend on her in so many ways. There is nothing that would make me risk that. Even if it were the best thing in the world for both of us, there is still that risk that we wouldn’t be a good match, and I’d fucking lose her.

Pulling up to the beach I find the spot that I’m meeting my old neighbor AKA the infamous Mallory at to take her engagement photos. I really still hate coming here, the water reminds me of Meg. I put my truck in park and grab my camera bag, knowing I have to push forward.

Getting out, it’s a warm Seattle evening. The sun is just about to set, and the skyline will set up for an epic photo shoot.

But before I can scope the area, they pull up.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Mallory asks as she gets out of her car. I feel bad for keeping the lie up as long as I have. Neither she nor Gail, her fiancée, know about this crazy web I’ve spun. When Mallory lived next door to me years ago, way before Gail, we hooked up one drunken night. She was one of the girls I tried to get into, but just couldn’t. Fallon met her once, and I introduced her as my girlfriend, which was short lived. I think Mallory thought it ended there. However, for me it unfortunately didn’t, I’ve kept the lie up for far too long.

“Yes, it is,” I respond and walk over to give her a hug and shake Gail’s hand. Looking at the smile on their faces, I couldn’t be happier for these two. “How are you both doing today?” I ask.

“Good, thanks for doing this.”

“Of course,” I respond and direct them down to the beach. “You guys ready? The sun is gonna set fast.” We all head down to the water, and I keep my fears of the water hidden. Almost as soon as our toes hit the sand, I start posing them and taking shot after shot of Mallory and Gail. They seem so happy and in love, which makes it easy to photograph them and easy to keep myself focused on the task at hand, not the vivid screams from Meg that are plaguing me in the back of my mind.

After about an hour of shooting different pictures all over the beach, I think we have what we need.

“We got some good shots,” I tell them.

“Great, I can’t wait to see them,” Mallory says.

“I’ll email you some proofs later.”

The ladies head off, and I get into my truck, checking my phone before I drive off. There are a few missed calls from Fallon and one voice mail. As I check her message, the sheer panic in her tone rings through my ears.

Shit, how could this be happening to her?