Best Friends, Secret LoversBy: Jessica Lemmon
The leap from friends to lovers means they have everything to gain...
or everything to lose...
Colleagues, confidants and best friends for years, Flynn and Sabrina have never crossed that line. Until one searing Valentine’s Day kiss. And when circumstances force Sabrina to move in with Flynn...that line disappears. But becoming friends with benefits must stay a secret. Because if word gets out, they’ll be risking their professional reputations and their relationship...
“What do you think?”
Sabrina spun and faced him, the wind kicking her hair forward, a few strands sticking to her lip gloss. He was walking forward when she stopped, so he reached her in two steps. Before he thought it through, he swept those strands away and ran his fingers down her cheek and tipped her chin, his head a riot of bad ideas.
With a deep swallow he called up ironclad Parker willpower and stopped touching his best friend. “I think you’re right.”
His voice was as rough as gravel.
“You’re going to have to let it go at some point. Give in to the urge.” She drew out the word urge, perfectly pursing her lips, and leaned forward with a playful twinkle in her eyes that would tempt any mortal man to sin.
And since Flynn was nothing less than mortal, he palmed the back of her head and pressed his mouth to hers.
* * *
Best Friends, Secret Lovers is part of the Bachelor Pact series from Jessica Lemmon!
“Twenty minutes minimum, or else she’ll tell everyone you’re horrendous in bed.”
“If you’re down there for longer than seven minutes, you dumb Brit, you have no idea what you’re doing.”
“Spoken like a guy who has no idea what he’s doing.”
Flynn Parker leaned back in his chair, his broken leg propped on the ottoman, and listened to his two friends argue about sex. Pleasing women in particular.
“If either of you knew what you were doing, you wouldn’t be single,” he informed his buddies.
Gage Fleming and Reid Singleton blinked over at Flynn as if they’d forgotten he was sitting there. Drunk as they were, they might have. Gage grabbed the nearly empty whiskey bottle resting on Flynn’s footstool and splashed another inch into Reid’s glass and his own.
But not Flynn’s. Thanks to the pain medication he was on, the only buzz he would be enjoying was courtesy of Percocet.
“You’re one to talk,” Reid said, his British accent slurred from the drink. “Your ring finger is currently uninhabited.”
“The reason for this trip.” Gage clanked his glass with Reid’s, then with Flynn’s water bottle.
Flynn would drink to that. His recent split from Veronica was what drove them all up here, to the mountains in Colorado to go skiing. The last time they were in Flynn’s father’s cabin had been their sophomore year in college. The damn place must be a time machine because they’d devolved into kids just by being here.
Gage and Reid had been nonstop swapping stories, bragging about their alleged prowess, and Flynn had been foolish enough to try the challenging slope...again. His lack of practice led to his taking a snowy tumble down the hill. Just like the last time, he’d ended up in the hospital. Unlike the last time, he’d broken a bone.
Skiing wasn’t his forte.
The ex-wife who had recently ruined his life and his outlook. His buddies had come here under the guise of pulling him out of his funk, but he knew they were mostly here because they hadn’t left each other’s sides since they were in college. Sure, Reid had fled back home to London for a short time, but he’d come back. They’d all known he would.
Before he boarded the plane for this vacation, Flynn had learned two things: One, that his father’s diagnosis of “pneumonia” was terminal cancer and Emmons Parker would likely die soon, making fifty-three the age to beat for Flynn; and two, that when he returned home he’d be sitting in his father’s office with the title of president behind his name.
Running Monarch was all Flynn had ever wanted.
Despite years of showing an interest and trying to please his father, Emmons Parker had shooed Flynn away rather than pulled him in. Now the empire was on Flynn’s shoulders, and his alone.