Sharing a bedroom wall with your best friend from childhood quickly turns to anything but sweet and innocent.
They were best friends until they became
roommates.
Booker Harris has spent the last several
years pushing himself to become the best goalkeeper in the Championship League.
Tired of living in the shadows of his headline-splashing brothers, he has
finally carved a path of his own.
As a child, Poppy McAdams was content in
her own little make-believe world, until the boy next door with dimples and
pained eyes came barreling into her makeshift fort demanding all her attention.
Best friends for most of their lives,
everything changes when Poppy abruptly leaves London for University.
Now she is back, and gone is the awkward
girl from Booker’s youth. She has been replaced by a stunning woman with
secrets.
Secrets that Booker is desperate to know.
Sharing a bedroom wall with
your best friend from childhood quickly turns to anything but sweet and
innocent.
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“Did you go out a lot in Frankfurt?” I
ask because I’m still curious to hear more about her time over there. “Did
those German blokes you flirted with for tips show you a nice time?”
She twists her head to frown up at me,
puzzling her brows at my random question. “Are we really going to talk about
this?”
I shrug because, well, now that I’ve
opened the can, I don’t really want to stuff it all back in. “Did you leave
anyone behind broken hearted?”
“No,” she murmurs and a tense silence
stretches out before us. “What about you? You have a girlfriend I should know
about?”
I roll my eyes. “I wouldn’t have
invited you to stay if I had a girlfriend.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because…look at you,” I scoff.
That tense silence returns, but this
time I can hear her breathing. I can feel the rise and fall of her shoulders as
she leans against me.
Her voice is soft when she asks, “What
do you mean, look at you?”
I tug on my earlobe, feeling a stirring
in my stomach that doesn’t have anything to do with the massive amounts of
whiskey I consumed tonight. “I think it’s quite obvious, Poppy. You’re not
merely a girl anymore. You’re…a woman. And that haircut. I don’t know. It
just…suits you.”
She turns her head up and looks at me
curiously. I return her gaze, noting the light dusting of freckles across the
bridge of her nose. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed those before. She draws my
eyes downward as she licks her lips and a warmth spreads between us.
All of the sudden, she sits up, pulling
me out of the trance I have on her lips as she situates herself crisscross to
face me. I inhale deeply as her hand slides into my hair right above my ear.
“Looks like you could use a cut,” she croaks, combing through the thick locks.
I expect her to pull away, but she lingers, her scent wafting over me. My eyes
fall closed as she slices through every strand and traces her fingertips along
the nerve endings on my scalp, massaging in slow, languid movements.
God,
that feels good.
My head nods to the side as I slur,
“I’ve missed you, Poppy.”
She exhales. “I’ve missed you, too,
Booker.”
“No, I mean, I’ve seriously missed you.” Groaning from her touch, I
add, “I put one of my lamps in your room. I know how you hate the dark.”
Silence ensues, so my eyes lazily open
and find she’s watching me.
“I don’t know why I said that just
now,” I husk.
Her hand falls away from my head, but I
catch it with mine because, well, I’m not ready for her to stop touching me
yet. I want to be close to her like we always used to be.
I slide my fingers between hers, loving
the softness of her hands against the hardness of mine, the smallness of hers
against the largeness of mine. She feels so good against my skin. I never want
to lose Poppy again. I’ve missed having her near me like this.
Aching for more, I pull her to me. Her
legs unfold as she tucks into my chest, one hand over my heart, the other still
entwined with mine. She nestles into me like she did when we were kids and
she’d been crying about one of the many animals that died at her dad’s clinic.
Pressing her nose into my chest, her
shoulders rise as she inhales deeply. I can feel her warm breath through the
fabric of my shirt and it feels good.
Really good. I want her mouth to open so her breath goes from warm to hot. I
want her lips to part, and I want to feel her tongue on my body. On me. Flesh
against flesh.
I crook my finger beneath her chin and
lift her face to mine. She looks beautiful. Familiar and comfortable, like a
memory that I once lost. I lower my head so we’re eye-to-eye and softly brush
her lips with mine. It’s a kiss of friendship. Of history. Of knowing someone
so completely that you assume you know what their lips will taste like before
you even touch them.
But I didn’t know.
I had no fucking idea.
Meet the Harris TWINS in Challenge & Endurance
NOW AVAILABLE & Free on
Kindle Unlimited (Standalone)
Challenge
Endurance
Amy Daws is a lover of all things British and her London-based love
stories bring the incredible city to life on every page. Read all about hot
British men, hilarious heroines, and unforgettable and original ensemble casts
that pull out all the feels. For more of Amy’s work, visit her website.
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