I shake my head, keeping my gaze out my window.
“Good. I’m sure Cersei is ready for her dinner,” he mumbles.
When we return to the house, I don’t wait for Mr. Chivalrous to open my door. I head straight toward the house to feed my dog.
“Are you mad?” Shep calls.
“No.” I take three more steps to the door and stop. “Yes.” I whip around. “I’m so fucking sorry you feel taken to the cleaners.” I reach into my purse and pull at least two hundred dollars from my wallet. It should cover dinner and his time wasted shopping with me. Then I throw it at him, but it scatters all around us instead. “You’re a shitty friend, Shep. And a sore loser.”
His lips part, eyes wide and unblinking like the rest of his body remains unmoving. “Sophie … I … it … it was a joke. I was joking. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.” He bends down and picks up the money.
Well, shit.
Now I feel stupid. And hurt. And … I don’t know. Just really frustrated because I like this imaginary world, but it’s starting to feel real. And it’s not real. Real is the baby inside me. Real is Jimmy. Real is having to face Jules when I get home.
After he gathers all the money, he steps closer and shoves it into my purse. I keep my jaw set, eyes on his chest, refusing to look up at him.
“I’m a terrible loser. The worst. Yet…” He takes my chin and tips my head up, forcing me to look at him “…if someone’s going to hand it to me in golf, I want it to be you. If someone’s going to drag my ass in and out of stores, I want it to be you. I said it before and I’ll say it again … anything to be with you.” His fingers drift from my chin to my jaw, gently cupping it.
I reach for his hand, covering it with mine because I don’t want him to stop touching me. If it isn’t real, then I don’t have to say no. “Shep?” I whisper.
His gaze affixes to mine. “Yes?”
I take one step closer until there are no more steps to take. “Want to be best friends?”
He grins and I feel it like it’s a physical touch. “Yeah, Sophie,” he whispers, lifting his other hand to my face too. “I really do.”
We kiss.
I drop the sack of leftovers to the ground.
Shep holds my face, angling me where he wants me so his tongue can reach deep into my mouth, mingling with mine, overwhelming me with a friendship like no other. He backs me into the house, never letting his lips leave mine.
Cersei jumps on him.
He keeps guiding me backward toward the bedroom, shaking off my spastic dog before closing the door and leaving her on the other side. I unbutton his jeans. He pushes the straps of my dress down my shoulders. “Fuck … Sophie.” He rests his forehead on mine and stops my hands from breaching the waistband of his underwear. “We didn’t stop for condoms.”
“I’m …” I’m out of breath at just the thought of what we’re going to do, feeling like my whole chest might explode if we don’t keep going. He didn’t bring them. Does that mean he’s stupid for not planning ahead? Or does it mean he’s truly my friend? “I’m … well … it’s fine. You can’t get me pregnant. I promise.”
He sucks in a harsh breath when I tug down the front of his underwear. His hands go straight to my face again, our kiss growing eager and impatient like the rest of our bodies. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this out of control.
We’re just friends. Temporary friends.
Friends without boundaries. His hands leave my face, limitless without those boundaries as he fights with my dress, eagerly dragging it up my legs in one direction while shoving it down past my breasts in the other direction. We manage to back up enough for the bed to catch us when we fall. I search for anything to grab, finding real estate with his shirt, tugging it up his body and over his head while he inches down my body.
Every move we make is a little frantic and clumsy, our clothes half on, half off. He tugs on my panties, getting them only to my knees before he plants his mouth between my legs. I claw at the mattress with one hand, and my other hand clutches his hair while my back arches off the bed.
“Sh-shep … god …” My body twists. “Just … yes … god … yes …” I tighten my grip on his hair, pleasure unfurling in every direction.
He hums in response to the fractured, barely coherent words falling from my lips. Crawling back up my body, he laps his tongue over my nipples then up my neck to my mouth. The room fills with the sound of our moans and a slight creak of the bed as his hips rock, rubbing against my leg and the bed. He’s having sex with me ten different ways without actually having sex with me yet.