“Viv?”

I keep going, even as I hear the foreign sound of a rare sob from Kai. I’ve seen him cry once before—when I woke up in the hospital after the accident.

Where are you?

I text Oliver and wait, but he doesn’t respond so I call him. It goes to his voice mail. “Oli, I’m so sorry. Kai had no right to say that to you. Please call me back.”

Next, I text Alex.

Come back. I need a ride to the train station.

Alex arrives back within minutes and follows me to the car. She refrains from saying anything right away, but finally breaks the silence as we get closer.

“Sean said Kai was an ass.”

“I don’t want to talk about Kai.”

Alex nods as we pull into the train station.

“I’m sorry. Hope you can still have a nice weekend.”

Alex hugs me. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll get Kai drunk until he passes out and then we’ll go do our own thing.”

I smile. “Thanks, Alex, for everything.”

“Good luck, Flower.”

“Thanks, I may need it.”

* * *

The train ride back is emotionally draining as I grieve the loss of my best friend. I never dreamed the moment Kai would declare his love to me would be the moment I would let him go. It shouldn’t be this way. Friends shouldn’t have to choose. As angry as I am with him, I feel a painful emptiness inside. Will the man I love fill that void … will he love me back?

His car is here and so is he. I feel it like my own heart beating in my chest. My hands tremble. I can barely make a fist to knock on his door. I’ve never wanted to rip myself open so completely to another person. If Oliver doesn’t love me back, I’m certain I will die.

I knock.

No answer.

I knock again.

No answer.

I text him.

I know you’re home. Please let me in.

No response.

Oli, PLEASE!!

No response.

I knock again then rest my cheek on his door. The tears fall hard. “Oli, please.” I knock again. I’m not sure how much time passes, but I eventually peel my face off his door, and lug my bags across the street. Before I reach the top step I glance back.

Oli.

He’s standing in his door way. If it’s even possible to feel more pain today, I do. Looking at Oli with a glass bottle in one hand and his face somber … eyes vacant, I die a little more. I reach into my purse and grab my phone. A moment later Oli pulls his out of his pocket and holds it up to his ear. He doesn’t say anything, but I hear his breath and I swear I can feel it on my skin as a tingling chill spreads over me.

“I love you,” I whisper.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. My heart beats out of my chest and I feel like I’m falling.

The line goes dead. He puts his phone back in his pocket and steps outside. Taking a shaky step down, he sits on the top step. We stare at each other, but standoffs are for stubborn cowboys in westerns. I’m a hungry woman desperate for her man. I make the trek back across a distance that’s too far between us. Tossing my bags on the step next to him, I straddle his lap. I can see the missing half of Jack Daniels glossed over in his eyes.

“You love me?” His words are slow with a soft slur.

I wrap my arms around his neck. “Completely.”

His brow tenses as he tips his head to the side. “Why?”

I shrug. “I can no longer do the impossible.”

“The impossible?”

“Not love you.”

He closes his eyes and smiles.

“I’m not expecting you to say it—”

“I love you.” He opens his eyes.

“I mean it. You don’t have to say it.”

“I love you.”

“I’m serious.”

He laughs and rests his forehead on my shoulder. “So am I.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I am.” He chuckles some more.

“So if in the morning you regret saying it then—”

His lips press to mine. He tastes like Jack and Oliver, the perfect cocktail. Releasing me, his forehead falls to mine. “No take backs.”

With those three words, I do the only thing a girl in my shoes can do: I cry tears of joy in the arms of the man who loves me.

* * *

Oliver

I missed the sunrise this morning and that’s okay; I didn’t want last night to end. Vivian, naked in my arms, is all I can ever imagine wanting or needing for the rest of my life.

“Hey.” I love her raspy morning voice.

“Good morning.” I roll onto her and slide into to her with one smooth motion. Her breath catches and languid eyes disappear beneath heavy lids. I suck her cherry nipple into my mouth and graze my teeth over it as she arches her back and moans in pleasure. Unfortunately this won’t take long; I’ve been hard as a rock for nearly an hour looking at her naked body. Pervert? Probably, but I don’t care.

“Oli …”

I love when she moans my name, it makes me thrust into her harder and faster. She clenches my hair and holds my head to her chest. The more I tease her nipples, the more she circles her hips and grinds against me.

“Don’t stop, Oli, don’t ever stop …” She pulls my head to hers and takes my mouth like she’s starving. Her long legs wrap around my waist and her nails anchor into my back.

A million words flood my mind, but when I’m inside her I can’t speak, I can barely breathe. She’s close, I can tell, because her head thrashes from side to side like she’s willing it away, hoping it will last forever. I understand. My own body is at war feeling the nearness of it. I slow down and sometimes stop to let the feeling start to fade just to slam back into her, teasing that edge all over again. God, it feels so good.

I flip us over, letting her sit astride me. She struggles to hold her body upright as she sinks onto me—eyes closed, head back. I guide her hips and watch her breasts bounce as she finds her own pace. I’m so close to losing it just watching her, then she sends me over the edge with the unexpected; she pinches her own nipples then slides her hand down to where we’re joined and brings herself to orgasm while digging her teeth into her bottom lip. I jerk my hips up once more and it’s over. Damn! I can’t believe how much I needed this.

“Oh, Oli …” She collapses on my chest, breathless. “I love you.”

I’m hers. She doesn’t even know me yet, but I’m still hers. Uncertain eyes find mine and I can see the question in them, the fear that I was too drunk last night to remember. I brush her unruly hair away from her face. “I love you too.”

Who needs to watch the sunrise? She’s blinding me with a smile brighter than the most brilliant rays of sun. Her lips press to mine and her tongue slides in my mouth while she circles her hips resurrecting my dick still buried inside her warmth.

Interlacing our fingers she murmurs over my mouth, “Let’s do it again.”

* * *

I look like a damn circus clown waiting for her to come downstairs. The second time in bed guaranteed a permanent smirk on my face today, but when she placed her hands on the shower wall and reminded me that I wanted to fuck her in the shower, that pretty much sealed the deal for the circus clown smile.

“Mmm, what’s that smell?”

I try to tame my grin as she walks down the stairs, those sexy bare legs on full display beneath my T-shirt and wet raven hair hanging down her back and over her shoulders. Who am I kidding? Bozo it is. “Omelets, buttered toast, orange juice, and coffee.” I pull out her chair.

She sits down and grabs my neck, pulling me in for a slow kiss. “Good morning.”

I scoot her in and sit down across from her. “You have no idea.”

She takes a sip of her juice. “Oh, I think I do. We should do this every day.”

“Breakfast?”

She takes a bite of toast and smiles. “Sex, lots of sex, then yes, you making me breakfast in your boxer briefs without a shirt on.” Licking the butter off her lips, lustful eyes fall to my chest and she smirks. “When I came down the stairs and saw you looking like this, I wanted to eat my breakfast off your naked body.”

I choke on the bite I’m trying to swallow.

“You okay, Oli?”

Covering my mouth with my napkin, I nod while fighting to clear my throat. In a world where guys brag and share stories, the events of this morning would be met with laughter and filed under big fish stories. Women like Vivian just don’t exist in the real world. They don’t look like her, act like her, and they certainly don’t talk like her. In fact, I don’t believe it myself. I half expect to wake up alone in my bed, covered in sweat with my hand fisted around my dick.

“I’m fine.” I clear my throat once more and take a drink of juice. “So dinner at my parents’ house tonight?”

There’s that blinding smile again. “I’d love to.” She takes a bite of her omelet. “Mmm, this is so good.”

“Better than Boston Kreme doughnuts?”

She laughs. “Down boy, don’t try to compete with the official doughnut of the Commonwealth.”

“You do realize doughnuts are high on the list of the unhealthiest foods.”

“Of course I know. I’ve been trying to cut back.”

“You have?”

“Sure. Look at the clock. It’s almost ten and I haven’t had one yet. Now, the question you should have asked is if I like sex more than Boston Kreme doughnuts.”

My forkful of omelet stops halfway to my mouth. “And?”

“Yes.” She winks. “I like sex with you so much more. So if you’re concerned about my health then I suggest you do your best to keep me preoccupied with the one thing that trumps the Boston Kreme.”

I grin and mentally pinch myself because there’s no way she just said that. “So we should treat this like AA. I’ll be your sponsor. When you have a weak moment and temptation strikes, you call me and I’ll meet you.”