Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
I don’t know what the hell he was talking about, because when we made our way to the locker room at the side of the room, I found out that Mitch definitely wasn’t wearing anything close to “tighty-whiteys.” In fact, he was wearing a sexy fucking pair of navy blue boxer-briefs that did very little to hide his bulge.
I tried so hard not to stare as I stripped down to my own boxer briefs. We headed back out into the dimly lit, big exercise room where everyone was bouncing around. The instructors yelled words of encouragement as we all danced.
And as absolutely ridiculous as it was to be dancing in my underwear, unexpectedly, next to my best friend, in some way it felt perfect. Mitch was awkward and barely moved for the first few minutes, but as time went on, even he seemed to loosen up and fall into the groove.
I had gone on plenty of “perfect dates” before with other guys—where they’d take me out to dinner and a movie, or a picnic in the park, or ice skating and hot chocolate.
But those dates hadn’t been perfect because those guys had never felt right.
It was strange how with Mitch, even a weird, unexpected, sweaty exercise date felt better than anything with anybody else.
In that room, I let myself stare at him. I let myself watch his impossibly hard body move around to the music, wishing so badly that I could feel it on me, instead. I couldn’t even imagine how good Mitch must be in bed. I also knew that I shouldn’t let myself imagine it.
But my cock got hard anyway. And of course, it was at its most erect when the class ended, and we wound up back in the locker room again, rinsing off and putting our clothes back on in the bright, blinding light.
I have no clue if he saw my erection, because I was too embarrassed the whole time. When we made our way back to his Jeep, I tried to think about anything else. I felt like the night was just getting started.
And I desperately needed to get my mind off the fact that my best friend was one of the sexiest men I had ever fucking seen.
Red’s Tavern would be the perfect place to try to distract myself. There were bound to be some hot guys there that I could try to pick up, and maybe it would even make Mitch feel good to be my wingman.
“You’re not just getting one free drink out of me tonight,” I told Mitch. “You’re getting at least three.”
“Oh, you’re really going for it, aren’t you?”
“Well, you really went for it in that dance class, so I owe you one,” I said.
“I admit it. I had fun. Sort of.”
I grinned. “You fucking loved it,” I said.
“Shut up.”
“Loved every minute of it, especially seeing my skinny ass wiggle and shake.”
“You’re not that skinny,” he said. “You’ve—ah, well—you’ve filled out some, since school. I guess.”
Shit. Now I was blushing my face off. Thank God it was dark in the car. “Thanks for taking me on a date night,” I said.
“Of course. Any time.” He drove for a minute before speaking up again. “Man, I don’t even want to think about it, but I probably have to start going on real dates again at some point. Being divorced is so weird.”
My heart sank. It was like a slap in the face, sending me right back to reality. “Right,” I said.
I knew Mitch wouldn’t stay single for long—he was a gorgeous single dad who was a former quarterback, and he also happened to be the sweetest person you would ever meet. It was silly of me to think things could just stay this way forever, and that Mitch could devote all his time to me for the rest of our lives.
But I still wished he could.
And that’s exactly why I knew I had to get my mind off of him, as soon as fucking possible.
6
Mitch
Alcohol can’t fix any problems, but it sure can help distract me from the fact that I have more fun with my best friend than I’d ever had with a girlfriend in my life.
And maybe alcohol could help me get the image of his half-naked, shaking ass out of my head. No matter how good it had looked.
I watched as six-foot-six of jacked-up muscle bent down and wrapped its arms around my best friend. My insides jumped a little, watching as the big, burly, bearded man bent to press a peck onto Evan’s face.
Both of us were sitting at the bar at Red’s, and I realized at that moment that my tipsy buzz had morphed into capital-D drunk.
Because I wouldn’t usually have prickled at the sight of Evan getting a simple hug and a kiss on the cheek from another dude. Right now, I wanted to bat the guy’s arms off Evan, though, and stand guard, protecting him from anyone else.