Taboo For You (Friends to Lovers) by Sunday Anyta

Author:Sunday, Anyta [Sunday, Anyta]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Published: 2014-01-02T06:00:00+00:00

LUKE

HOLY SHIT. What am I doing? What did I just agree to?

I swing myself off the bed, reaching for my jeans that are pooled on the floor. Sam shifts behind me, and I pause for a moment before glancing at him over my shoulder.

He’s sitting there, his black hair mussed and T-shirt crinkled, half-smiling, half-frowning at the duvet on his lap. Almost thirty or not, he still looks so young to be a dad. Sometimes I wish for him that things had been different, that he’d had a chance to live more of his own life and figure out who he is.

If he had, maybe he’d have done all this experimenting already, and I wouldn’t be sitting here chastising myself for agreeing to be his taboo thing. And I wouldn’t be so excited about it either.

It’s better to have and lose than never have at all, right?

At least this way, I’ll know he’s safe and he’ll be taken care of. Because I will be careful, and considerate, and even though he won’t know it, I’ll be giving him more than sex—every time I touch him it will be with love.

What about afterwards? What about when he’s finished and he doesn’t love you back? I suppress my fears.

Sam looks up at me and I go back to putting my jeans on.

“We’ve got Jeremy’s game today,” I say, trying to distract myself from the impulse to spin around, leap on him, and drag my lips over every sweet inch of his body. “You’d better get your butt out of bed.”

He looks a little disappointed, but he gets out of bed.

Things are a little tense between us as we prepare ourselves for Jeremy’s game, like both our nerves are strung tight in anticipation of what’s going to happen next.

I can hardly focus on driving and twice Sam’s asked me to either speed up or slow down. I try rolling my shoulders to make myself relax, but nothing seems to be working.

At least Sam seems to be just as wound up. He keeps fidgeting with his seatbelt and humming under his breath.

When we get caught in a spot of traffic, I look over to find him watching me. He blinks quickly and then looks toward the radio. “Music?”

I nod and drum my thumbs on the steering wheel. “Sure.”

Neither of us speak until we arrive at Kresley Intermediate. We get out of the car, and I come around the front, asking Sam to grab the balls.

Sam freezes. “I know I want to be wild,” he says in hushed tones. “But not that wild. We’re at a school.”

What the . . .? And then I get it. I crack up so loud and so hard, it has Sam frowning. When I jerk my finger to the soccer balls and gear in the bed of the truck, he swears and reddens.

“Well,” he says, chuckling at himself. “Guess it’s clear where my mind’s at.”

And that’s the moment it happens.

The moment I don’t think.

I lean over and kiss him gently on the mouth.

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