Ash collapsed onto the bed and made a guttural sound. “Do they make gold stars for grown-ups? I think we each just earned one.”

She laughed. “We should get a whole sheet of them.”

“Also, I hope you have a lot of hot water in your tank because I’m going need a long shower.” He turned his head to give her a disarming smirk. “A really long one.”

She lifted a brow and put a hand on her hip. “You and me both, honey.”

He closed his eyes as if in pain. “Not helping, KC. Writer. Vivid imagination.”

“Not trying to. I shouldn’t suffer alone.” She walked to the door, forcing herself to get away from the temptation. “Breakfast is in twenty minutes. Enjoy your shower.”

She walked out and shut the door behind her, leaning against it and catching her breath. Holy shit. Her body was pulsing just about everywhere, and the ache inside her was one she’d never felt so intensely before. She had a healthy sex drive and found herself attracted to men on a relatively regular basis. She wasn’t inexperienced at what it felt like to be turned on. But she wasn’t sure she’d ever felt this kind of desperate, almost clawing need before. Like she might jump out of her skin if Ash didn’t touch her.

No way was she going back in there, though. They had made the right decision. Rational thinking instead of impulsive behavior. Gold stars for sure. Attraction wasn’t anything special. Sex was just a fun physical release. Neither of those things compared to having one of her best friends back in her life. The risk wasn’t worth the cost.

Probably.

With that in mind and ignoring the mental image of Ash shirtless, turned on, and sprawled on the bed, she pushed away from the door and went straight to her own bathroom. She hadn’t been lying about the shower.

Defensive measures were definitely in order. Hell, right now, they were her only hope.

Fourteen

Ash couldn’t concentrate as he rearranged the health section of The Stuffed Shelf. It had been a week since the near disaster at Kincaid’s house, and they’d worked together at the bookstore almost every day since without any more close calls, but he still couldn’t shake how easy it had been to almost cross that line again. The first time they’d slept together, they’d been lost teens, and the act had been born out of grief, confusion, and almost a survival instinct to feel something other than despair for a few minutes. They’d been seeking a kind of mutual emotional numbness that first time. This time, the urge had been nothing of the sort.

This time, straight-up lust was to blame. He hadn’t wanted her because they used to be best friends or because he used to be in love with her. The desire hadn’t been nuanced or complicated. Kincaid was beautiful, made him laugh, and was sexy as hell. He’d wanted her naked in that bed. Right. That. Second. But that was where the simplicity of the pairing stopped, because he knew what would chase them down afterward if they gave in to that urge. The past was like a rabid dog. You could only throw it off your scent for a little while before it was hunting you down again, ready and eager to tear everything apart with its sharp teeth.