Her Best Friend's Brother by T. Dell (read the beginning after the end novel .TXT) 📕

things up as she went. “I mean we are both adults and old friends… I am sure we can share with no problems.” Okay now she was getting sultry confused with slutty. But she was getting desperate so maybe slutty would work. Besides Tony had only ever been interested in her as a casual partner—maybe slutty was good? No, she had some pride, slutty was out.

Tony’s throat went dry. So did his brain—al the blood seemed to have deserted his brain. How much had she had to drink? Did she have any idea what she was saying? Tony tried to think back and count the hours since her last glass of wine. He hadn’t had anything but water al night. He had been punishing himself by living through al those Mia Betta’s stone sober. He was pretty sure that it had been several hours since the wine—pretty sure, but not positive.

“Tony?”

“We can share. I guess that would be okay.” He couldn’t do it. Wel he could do it. Physicaly he was definitely able. But you don’t take the woman you love to bed for the first time after she’s been out al night drinking, not to mention dancing with another man. Of course that was tonight. Tomorrow was a different story. “Umm wait here.” Tony rushed into the master bedroom. Libby heard a few clunks and bangs. He was straightening up for her!

So very charming. “Okay. That’s as good as it’s gonna get.” He popped his head back into the hal.

Walking into Tony’s bedroom made Libby’s stomach flip. It was so very like those nights when they had stomach flip. It was so very like those nights when they had been teenagers playing monopoly. Except they weren’t teenagers anymore, and Tony’s parents weren’t asleep down the hal, and they didn’t have a monopoly board.

“Nice.” Libby commented as she took the master bedroom in. The bed was big and sort of made. She had a feeling he had thrown the covers up just now. A big picture window looked down over his back yard, or it would if it weren’t so dark outside. A door that probably led to the master bath was on one wal, there were a few dark wooden dressers lined up against another wal, and matching nightstands framed the bed.

“Yeah, it’s nice.” Tony wanted her to love it. He wanted to tel her he had bought it for her—the bed, the dressers, the whole damn house was for her. A part of his campaign to win her over; show her that he could give as much to her as any Italian chef.

“Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t have anything to sleep in.”

“What?”

“Your car was only headed home remember?”

“Oh right.” He had been kind of an ass at the bar, but he had been looking forward to having Libby to himself

—and then she had mentioned going back to Stuart’s. So yeah, he had been an ass. He could have at least stopped and let her pack a bag. “Do you want to borrow a tee shirt?” He would never be able to sleep if she was lying next to him wearing only his tee shirt. Not that he planned on being able to sleep anyway.

“I have a camisole on under this… Maybe if you have a pair of boxers or something?”

“Sure, here you go.” Tony numbly walked to a dresser and tossed her a pair of blue boxers. He wondered what a camisole was. Some kind of undershirt he guessed.

He puled extra pilows out of the top of the closet, and started lining them up down the middle of the bed.

“Umm… just in case” he muttered when she raised an eyebrow at him.

Of course. Libby’s insides came crashing down.

Clearly she had no idea what was slutty, sultry, or otherwise. He was determined not to take advantage of her, and she was too mortified to be any bolder. So much for her one memory. “I guess I’l just use the bathroom, and get changed.” Dejectedly Libby walked into the hal bath and changed clothes. Hanging her dress over the bath tub to preserve it for the next day she walked back into Tony’s room.

Okay, not an undershirt! A camisole was apparently a torture device made from silk and lace. Tony could barely tear his eyes from Libby, she was so beautiful.

Her camisole was beige (practicaly skin colored) and scraps of lace teased at the tops of her breasts. Breasts that were obviously bare beneath that silk—the material pooled slightly at the neck line, and Tony wondered what he might see if she were to lean forward slightly. “I’m gonna grab a shower.” A cold one. “Don’t wait for me or anything.” Tony walked right into his bathroom and didn’t look back.

Officialy a failed seductress, Libby climbed onto her half of the bed, careful not to destruct the great wal of pilows, and fel asleep… eventualy.

Tony took a long cold shower. And then he waited, Tony took a long cold shower. And then he waited, he counted to a thousand, he folded the pile of clean towels in his linen closet, he cleaned the toilet, he tried to remember al the states in alphabetical order (he could only think of 47

—wait North Carolina-- 48!), and then he quietly eased into the room slipped into the bed, and waited for sleep. 6

times 8 is 48, 7 times 8 is 56, 8 times 8 is 64.

Chapter Eighteen

This was his best dream. Tony was dreaming of lavender, and silk, and soft soft skin. In his best dream ever Libby was spooned in front of him, her silk covered breast filing one hand, and her hip curved temptingly beneath the other. Of course normaly in his Libby dreams she wasn’t wearing shorts, but no matter, he tugged the cotton down low enough to gain access to a palms worth of warm smooth skin. Dream Libby made a soft mewing noise.

Tony’s eyes flew open. Libby, real Libby, was curled into him. Her soft perfect bottom nestled into