Modern Girl's Guide to Friends With Benefits (23 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Modern Girl Tip #11 Keep It In The Bedroom:
Don't socialize. There need to be at least six degrees of separation between your FWB and your other friends. People who know you well will be able to tell something's up. So unless you want your extracurricular activities to become the main dinner conversation when you're with your friends, socialize alone.

Even through her wilder college years, Megan had managed to avoid the dreaded walk of shame. It had been a little over a week since this thing started with Peter and here she was for a second time, forced to put on last night's party dress and calling a taxi to haul her back home. If things were going to continue, she was going to have to stash some clothes here at the very least.

She eyed the dress balled up on the floor. She could technically squeeze back into the thing without the Spanx, which were nowhere to be found, but she wasn't about to go pantiless in that dress. At least not without a good waxing. So Megan opted for a pair of Peter's sweats and old t-shirt, and this time, she was going to make him drive her home.

While she got dressed and freshened up, she replayed the entire night. Every touch. Every word whispered. Every promise. She wasn't sure what was going to happen next, but she was terrified this little experiment was going to ruin one of the best things in her life.

She stared at the closed bathroom door, paralyzed, knowing that Peter was waiting to finish their relationship talk. Where was all her bravado when she needed it? Left in a dirty alley along with her pride, she supposed. Well, it was time to pull up her big girl panties and put on a good front because one thing hadn't changed: Peter could read her like a book. If she didn't get her act together, he'd know she was having second thoughts.

Taking a few steadying breaths, Megan stepped out of the bedroom and was greeted with the smell of bacon and fried potatoes. Her stomach rumbled at the smell. She'd picked at the meal last night, too anxious to eat while waiting for Peter to show, and now she was starving.

When she entered the living room, she found Peter standing over the stove, sliding fluffy pancakes off a large griddle. Megan took a moment to enjoy the view. Clad only in his pajama pants that rode low on his waist…she devoured every inch, admiring his muscular physique. Since she started writing erotica, Megan had developed an appreciation for the male form. And Peter was a prime example of man candy. He'd been on a collegiate diving team and still maintained a rigorous workout. It showed in every defined muscle in his arms and back.

Peter turned around and caught her staring. It was like he had a sixth sense. He always seemed to know when she entered a room. His steady gaze locked with hers, and she flushed.

"Hungry?" He handed over a plate piled high with pancakes, hash browns, and several slices of bacon. "We haven't done breakfast in a while, and since it's a holiday, I thought it would be nice to stay in."

"You're right. This is a nice surprise," she said and picked up a slice of bacon and nibbled on the end.

Peter sat down at the table and sipped his coffee, not saying a word. After a few minutes of awkward silence while he watched her, Megan pushed away her plate and let out a frustrated breath. It was worse than she'd thought it would be. His declaration of love, demanding more of their relationship, was like a three-hundred-pound cross-dressing gorilla sitting at the breakfast table with them. "Peter, stop."

"What?" he said, looking genuinely perplexed.

"If you've got something to say, get it off your chest. I'm not going to sit here and eat with you watching me like some zoo exhibit."

Without meeting her gaze, Peter took a bite of bacon and followed it with a long chug of coffee. She waited, knowing this conversation had to happen. Whether she liked it or not.

"So our conversation last night got…interrupted. We need to finish that talk. But I thought I'd let you eat first. I know how you are in the morning."

"Oh, yeah? And how am I exactly?" She swiped his coffee from the table and downed the rest of the mug in three big gulps. She needed caffeine and a lot of it if they were going to have this talk now.

"Just like that." He raised an eyebrow and shot her a sexy grin that, despite her irritation, caused her heart to flutter. "You're not a morning person and I appreciate that. So I thought we'd have breakfast before hashing out the logistics."

"Logistics," she said rolling her eyes. "You make it sound so sexy."

"Logistics. Rules. Conditions. It doesn't matter what you call it. Last night was incredible, and I don't want it to be our last." He reached over and ran his finger across her bottom lip. He met her gaze and his dark eyes burned with emotion. "God, I don't want to give up on us. But I'm not willing to keep things casual with you. I don't want you seeing other men. If we're going to do this, it has to be a normal relationship. Dates along with the sex. And I'm not going to lie to our friends and family anymore."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? You know my father won't like it. Simon might not be thrilled, either. After all, you're his business partner and one of his closest friends."

"I was your friend first."

The grin was back. He leaned in and brushed his lips over hers, tasting of bitter coffee and something undeniably Peter. With a broad sweep of his thumb, he stroked her exposed collarbone. Unbidden, a moan escaped the back of her throat and she leaned into the touch, wanting more. It was definitely different being at the center of all that charm, and it was too easy to get lost in his kisses. Megan had to keep her head or she'd promise him…everything.

"We can try this," she said, drawing back from him, "but I have a few conditions of my own."

He raised an eyebrow, trying not to be amused, but failed miserably. "Do go on." He leaned on his elbow, stroking his chin like a smartass.

"No women. I don't like to share my toys either."

"Done," he said without hesitation.

"I'm not just talking sex," she insisted. "I don't want to compete for your attention either. If we're coming out a couple, or whatever, you need to make it clear that you're taken."

"You'll have my complete and utter attention," he said and she almost believed him. "Anything else?"

"I want to be the one who tells Simon."

His smile slipped. "It would come better from me. I'm his friend."

"You might be his friend, but I'm his little sister. It needs to come from me. I need his support when things get ugly."

"Ugly?" Peter said, drawing back. "Do you think I'm going to—"

"Not with you." Although that was a distinct possibility, Megan thought better of sharing that fear with him. "My father. Simon's the only one who can make Dad see reason. You know the senator has never been your fan and he'll go out of his way to make this uncomfortable for both of us. If Simon hears it from me, if he knows that this is what I want, then he'll support us."

"And this
is
what you want, right?"

There was an unsure note in his voice that drew her up short. Evidently, she wasn't the only one with doubts. She stood up from her seat and straddled his lap, wrapping both arms around his shoulders. "Of course, I want this." She kissed him long and hard, pouring all the words she couldn't say yet into it. When she pulled back, Megan hoped her feelings, at least about him, were no longer in question. "So since we're being all couple-ly and shit, how do you feel about chili and romantic comedies?"

Peter shrugged. "They're fine, I guess."

"Good," she said, smiling. "In the spirit of coming out to our friends, you should get dressed. We've got a New Year's Day thingy with Connor and Patrick."

The conversation had gone better than she expected. Honestly, she didn't know what she'd worried about. Feeling ten pounds lighter, Megan went to the bedroom to find the bag she'd left here over the summer. It held her swimsuit, a hairbrush, and most important, a pair of flip-flops stuffed in the bottom. They weren't ideal footwear for the dead of winter, but they were still a step up from her stilettos. As she stuffed her dress and shoes—the Spanx were still MIA—into a bag, Megan felt more confident about the future. Maybe this couple thing wasn't going to be as hard as she originally thought.

After a quick stop at Megan's house so she could change into some real clothes, Peter parked the SUV outside the coffee house. The shops along the street were mostly closed for the holiday. Heavy gray clouds hung low in the sky, casting a sepia tone over everything that gave the neighborhood an abandoned feel. He imagined that most people were hunkered down, waiting for the latest storm to hit.

Chicago weather was tricky. The forecast called for a major snowstorm tomorrow, but it was still fifty-fifty odds that they would get either a dusting or three feet. Peter wanted to spend the entire day with Meg, but he'd promised Jesse he'd come in when the next big weather system moved through the area. For now, he'd just plan on enjoying the afternoon with his girlfriend and her friends.

He followed Meg around the building to a deserted alley, marveling at that thought.
His girlfriend.
And not just any girl. Meg. He wasn't sure if he was thrilled that this was where they ended up or pissed off that they'd wasted so many years. Either way, he was happy they finally figured their shit out.

Megan walked into the second-floor apartment without knocking and tossed her coat on a bench. "'Sup, bitches?" she announced and walked down the hall. The clatter of nails on hardwood greeted them as Benny came bounding around the corner. "There's my baby. Were you good for your uncles?"

Peter snatched her jacket off the floor where it had fallen, and hung it on a nearby coat rack along with his own. The apartment was small but charming. Connor had done a beautiful job maintaining the character of the turn-of-the-century building. It was obvious why Megan hired him to work on her house.

"I'm glad to see you didn't end up dead in a ditch last night." A tall, bulky man in a green apron came out of the kitchen and hugged Megan.

"Don't mind Patrick. I told him you were a big girl and not to worry," Connor said from the back hallway. "Glad you made it. I'll be out in a few seconds."

Ignoring Connor, Patrick stared down at Meg, still in his arms, and shook his head. "You could have called to let us know you were leaving."

"I could have," she said coyly. "But I was otherwise occupied." She nodded in his direction, and Peter took that as his cue to introduce himself.

"Peter Bradley." He held out his hand. "We didn't have a chance to meet last night."

"Patrick Burk," he said, shaking his hand. "Nice to finally put a face to the name. Megan talks about the trouble you guys get into all the time. Honestly, we were beginning to think she made you up."

"Don't worry. I'm very much real. But you should only believe about a third of what she says. Meg's the one who's always getting us in trouble."

"Oh, no you don't. I'm not always to blame." Meg tried to punch his shoulder, but he caught her arm and spun her into an embrace. Benny, excited by the sudden move, started racing around their feet, barking and nipping at their ankles.

"Is that so? Who got us arrested in Dallas?" He kissed the top of her head. "Or got us banned from the Field Museum for life?"

Meg wrinkled her nose and huffed. "The guy in Dallas deserved that drink in the face after what he said about you."