“Me too.” His voice was raw. “God, I want to fuck you.”

“Do it,” I breathed. “Right now. Don’t stop until you come.”

For a moment, I heard nothing but low, hushed sounds that turned me on even more as I imagined him struggling, like I was, to stay silent in the throes of an impending orgasm. I pictured him lying in the bed that I’d seen, his long, athletic legs stretched in front of him, his muscular chest bare, his powerful hand fisting his cock, his eyes closed, his thoughts on me.

I wished he was here. I wished we were alone. I wished I could see him and smell him and hear him and feel him driving into me. Squeezing my eyes shut, I did my best to imagine it, working my fingers expertly over my wet, swollen clit. The blankets above me muffled my strangled sighs.

“Fuck. Do you want it?” he growled with quiet intensity.

“Yes, I want it,” I whispered as the tension in me coiled so tight I couldn’t breathe. “I want everything.”

He exhaled—one final, drawn-out rush right as my own climax hit, and I imagined his cock pulsing inside me as my body tightened rhythmically around him.

Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygoddddddd.

I don’t know how much time passed before he spoke.

“Jesus. I don’t know what to say.” It was his regular voice again. As if something had clicked back into place between us.

“Don’t say anything,” I said quietly, terrified he was going to apologize.

“I need a minute, okay?”

“Okay.”

My mind raced as I yanked my panties and T-shirt back on. What were we going to say to each other? Had we just ruined our friendship? How would we get past this?

A moment later, he was back. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“So . . . that was a surprise.”

“Um. Yes. It was.”

Silence stretched out between us.

“I’ve never done that before,” he said.

I relaxed a little. “Me neither.”

“I feel like I should apologize, but . . . I’m not sorry.”

Relief rushed through me. “I’m not sorry either. Embarrassed, but not sorry.”

“Why are you embarrassed?”

“Because you were not supposed to see that text,” I whispered as fiercely as I could. “I was never really going to send it.”

He laughed gently. “I’m glad you did.”

“You are?”

“Yes. I was lying here thinking about you in all sorts of inappropriate ways, and feeling terrible about it, and then I saw your message. It made me feel better.”

“You were thinking about me?” I snuggled down beneath the covers again, happy right down to my toes.

“Yes.” He paused. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.”

“Well, as you now know, I’ve been thinking about you a lot since I was thirteen.”

He laughed again. “Stop.”

“I’m serious. I’m going to take it as a compliment that I hid it so well you never knew.”

“I promise you, I never knew. But I wasn’t all that observant back then.”

“Neither was Griffin, and I think even he knew.”

“Speaking of your brother . . .”

“What about him?”

“I don’t know. I feel weird about—what just happened. Because he’s my best friend. And you’re his sister.”

“Well, don’t. It’s none of his business.”

“But back in high school, he made us all promise we’d never touch you.” He must have realized how ridiculous that sounded, because he laughed after he said it.

“Oh my God.” Shaking my head, I laughed too. “I’m a big girl, Cole. I don’t need Griffin to protect me. And frankly, you were just as protective of me growing up as he was. You were nicer, too.”

“I don’t know about that,” Cole said, loyal to his best friend.

“I do. Don’t get me wrong, Griffin is a great guy and I love him to death, but as a kid he used to torment me endlessly. You were always sweet to me.”

“I thought Griffin was lucky to have a little sister. All I had was a smelly older brother who used to kick the shit out of me.”

“Same,” I said. “I can’t say Griffin was physically abusive, but he did used to do that thing where he’d pin me down and let drool hang from his mouth over my face and then suck it back in again at the last second. He made armpit noises while I’d practice piano. And he’d leave dead bugs where I’d find them in the bathroom we shared—in the sink, the shower, on the counter by my toothbrush.”

“What an asshole.”

“I know. It’s amazing he turned into a decent human being. And for what it’s worth, I don’t really think he’d care about . . . what just happened. It’s not like he’d think you were taking advantage of me or something. For heaven’s sake, I started it.”

He laughed a little. “You did. But I took it to the next level.”

“True. But Cole . . .” I took a deep breath and said what needed to be said. “This doesn’t have to change anything. I know we’re just friends.”

He exhaled. “You have no idea how relieved I am to hear you say that.”

“It’s the truth. Teenage crush aside, I think what happened tonight was just . . . letting off steam or something.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it was close enough. “We just got carried away.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe it’s the wedding that has us all worked up,” I said, even though I’d been worked up over him my entire life.

“Maybe.”

“And the holidays,” I said. “Nothing makes you feel lonelier than pumpkin spice lattés and sweater weather. And wasn’t there a full moon tonight? No wonder we’re acting crazy.”

There it was again—that low, sexy laugh I wanted to wrap around me like a thick, cozy robe. “It was fun, though.”

“It was,” I agreed.

“So we’re okay?”

“We’re okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

We hung up, and I set my phone on the charger. Curling into a ball beneath the blankets, I lay awake wondering if he was still thinking about me, what it would be like to see him tomorrow, and if it would truly be possible to remain just friends after what we’d done.

Part of me hoped it would be . . . and part of me hoped it wouldn’t.

My alarm went off at seven.

For a moment, I was so groggy and disoriented I forgot what day it was, but then I remembered—Thanksgiving. I had to go downstairs and get the pies in the oven.

I sat up and stretched, my feet hanging off the side of the bed, my arms overhead. And then I remembered something else—Cole. What we’d done. The things we’d said.

My stomach whooshed, and I put both hands over it. Had it all been real? For a moment, I was scared it had been a dream. I grabbed my phone off the charger and checked my texts.

And there it was, right there on the screen. The entire night, from my first I’m ready before we’d gone to dinner, to my frantic I won’t be able to type and all the messages in between.