What does it feel like when a woman runs her tongue from your balls to the tip of your cock?

Oliver blinked at the text. What the hell? He checked the number and hardened, as he always did with thoughts of Navy. Pining for his childhood friend was pathetic, yet no matter what he did, he couldn't stop himself.

His fingers trembled as he typed. Why do you want to know? And hello, by the way.

Oli, please, help me. I'm writing a novel, so you can't say anything to Gray. He'll just tease me until I want to kill him. Hello to you too.

Having just dried himself from a shower and yanked on a pair of sweatpants, Oliver sprawled on his bed, rested a hand on his chest, and dialed her.

"I'm sorry. You're the only man I can ask." Her husky voice rolled over his senses.

He gritted his teeth against her sensual allure. After eight years, he had yet to find her equal. Instead, he settled for scraps, wishing every woman he dated was her.

"As long as I get a copy?" he teased, struggling to maintain the illusion, that of her brother's best friend.

"But what if I suck at writing?"

"Let me be the judge. Mm, now to your question. How to put this..." Rubbing his chest, he raised his gaze to the ceiling where shadows played across its white surface. "Her tongue is hot and wet, and if she swirls it around my balls, intense tingles ripple outward, rushing, along with her lick, to the tip of my cock." He cleared his throat. Hell, never had he imagined being in this position. Lowering his hand, he cupped his hard-on through his pants. An answering wave of tingles mimicked his words. "When she sucks, the pleasure is intense, and often, I struggle to breathe."

"Any tightness in the chest?"

Heat uncoiled in his belly. "Yes, and something in my gut, like I'm doing crunches."

She hummed, and the clatter of keys from a keyboard almost drowned her voice. "What thoughts are running through your head?"

Thoughts? No, images and they flooded him now. Navy and her curly black hair, her bright blue eyes, and her smile that shone like a thousand suns. He'd last seen her four years ago at his mother's funeral, delicious curves barely hidden behind slacks and a button-up blouse. She'd filled out, her sixteen-year-old figure had hinted at the woman she had become.

Typing preceded her next words. "Or are they images? I read that men are more visual."

He groaned. Navy sprawled beneath him, her hooded eyes, her parted mouth as she chanted his name in her husky voice. He supplemented the shape of her breasts, the shade of her nipples, and shuddered.

"Yes." His voice was hoarse like gravel meets tarmac. Shit. She can't ever know how he yearned for her.

"I like that." She sighed. "Thanks, Oli. Would you mind if I bother you...for research?"

He slipped his hand inside his pants and rubbed his hard-on, swallowing a groan. Had she been beside him, he would be balls deep in her now. "Never. Bother away."

"You're the best. Kisses." And she hung up, leaving him rock hard and unfulfilled.

Kisses, sucks, hugs, and fucks, that's what he wanted from her. But it had to come with her heart. Tossing his phone aside, he rolled out of bed for another shower. If he was going to jerk off, it might as well be where he could clean up afterward.

~*~

Five months later.

Oliver palmed the book Navy had sent him. A novella, it held a plump woman on the cover, a brunette, with sensual curves just like Navy's. Hounding Hannah was the title. He flipped it over to read the blurb.

Hannah has a comfortable life writing her romance novels and walking her apartment building's dogs. She has one man in her life, and by in her life, she means watching him from her apartment windows.

Mr. Ripped is gorgeous, switching between working in his office and workouts in his lounge. She sees him on her dog walks, but her plump backside prevents her from approaching him. That is until a dog escapes and forces her to run pell-mell through the park and into Mr. Ripped out on a jog.

Roman is fascinated by the woman in the apartment across from him. With her curves and her penchant to do Kegel exercises while eating cookies, he can't dismiss his interest. When she sprawls before him in the park, he finally has the opportunity to meet her.

A friendship like warm socks forms, except it's the curve of her cheek, the plumpness of her bottom lip, the sweetness of her smile that torments him.

Now he needs to convince her she's more than enough woman for him.

Late for a meeting with his personal banker, Oliver dared do nothing more. But instead of leaving, he flipped the pages to read from the first chapter. When his phone rang, he was at three chapters in and engrossed, loving the quirky woman named Hannah and her crazy life. Navy's personality saturated each page, and he couldn't get enough of it.

"I'm on my way." He spoke into his phone without checking caller I.D. "Or better yet, can we postpone until tomorrow?" After his banker's agreement, Oliver hung up, shrugged out of his jacket, and lowered himself onto the couch, taking a second to prop his feet on the coffee table.

~*~

A few months later.

"Oli?"

His breath caught at Navy's husky voice. Lust slammed into him. He tightened his hold on his phone he'd answered without checking who called.

"Navy...give me a sec." He pressed his phone to his chest. "Jay, get me the costs for them all."

His assistant, Jay, nodded, folded the papers into its file, and left Oliver's office.

Pushing out of his leather chair, Oliver faced the window and lifted his phone to his ear. "What do you need, Blue?"

"Am I bothering you? I can call back."

An urge to hug her pierced his chest, and he rubbed the ache while forcing a chuckle. "You never bother me."

She hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"Navy," he growled.

"Fine." She huffed. "Okay, this one's a different sort of question. Have you ever been in love?"

He stilled. A thick ball of heated emotion lodged in his throat, pressing at the backs of his eyes.

"Oli, you there? Holy sugar cakes, I've lost him."

"I'm—" He cleared his throat. "I'm here. And yes."

"How did it feel?"

Did? He winced. Leaving her, his home had done nothing but deepen the pain. "It's agony." He rested his temple on the cool glass and closed his eyes.

She squeaked. "Why? Isn't love supposed to be sweet-smelling roses and bright sunshine?"

He snorted. "She doesn't know, has no idea."

Navy gasped. "If you tell her—"

"Unrequited." He sighed.

Navy grumbled, slamming something down. "Any woman would be lucky to have you, Oli."

Any woman but the one he wanted. "Right."

"I could talk some sense into her." There was a hard edge to her voice, as if she was angry on his behalf. He liked that.

"Oh? And what would you say?" He grinned. What would his oldest friend say about him?

"You want a list?" She hummed. "You're kind, loyal, helpful, um, handsome..."

He chuckled. She thought him handsome. That was a good start. "You're describing a dog, Blue."

She laughed. The unrestrained joy of it engulfed him and pasted a smile on his lips. He winked at his reflection in the glass. "I am. I'm sorry. Did you get my book?"

"I did, and I loved it."

She gulped. "You read it?"

Read it? He had her releases on notification. As soon as she launched a book, he bought it. Three so far, but he'd loved each one. In the darkness of night, when he ached for her, he would reread certain scenes, those that revealed her character the most. He tapped his temple on the glass. He was a lovesick fool.

"Anything for my Blue." He gritted his teeth. Quit gushing.

"Ditto. Besides, I owe you...big."

"Dinner?" An invisible hand squeezed his heart at the idea of seeing her again.

She squealed. "You're coming home?"

Home? Yes, she was his home. He'd been away far too long. "Thinking about it."

"But why? Your dad moved south, right? Somewhere warm."

"Deadmouth is in my blood. I miss it." Miss you. In all this time, he had yet to form a game plan with regards to wooing her. Everything else had lined up perfectly, but he still didn't have a strategy to win Blue.

"I'd love to see you." And she meant it. She couldn't lie. Everything about her was an open book. "Will Gray be coming with?" The hope in her voice sliced through Oliver.

"Sorry, Blue, he's in Africa somewhere."

"Well, that's fine too, I guess." Sadness saturated her words. "You're staying by me, right?"

Oliver's breath hitched. Stay by her? In her home? A door away from her bed? "Sure." He couldn't say no. She'd wonder why and wouldn't understand unless he explained how he felt. And avoiding her so far hadn't worked.

"Dinner's on me then." She chuckled. "I'll make your favorite."

He smiled. "And what would that be?"

"Elk Shepherd's Pie."

He blinked back tears. His mother would treat them once a month for Sunday brunch.

"I used to watch your mom make it, remember? I loved being in the kitchen with her. She'd have fifties music playing and her hair in curlers while she danced between stove, fridge, and sink."

"You were the daughter she always wanted, Blue." His mom had made him notice how well Navy had filled out, how pretty her blue eyes and bright smile were. Until then, he'd thought of her as his best friend's little sister, nothing more.

"Thanks, Oli," Navy rasped then sniffed. "So, I'll see you when I see you?" She forced a stiff laugh. "I know better than to ask either of you for a fixed date."

It would be soon. "True." He'd talk to Gray. Maybe it was time he came home to visit his family.

"I'll text you my address."

He chuckled. "I think I can remember where you live, Blue."

"It's been nine years, Oli. I sold my family home."

Pain wrenched his stomach. "Why?"

"Too big for just me. I needed something closer to town and finding myself stranded in mid-winter was never fun."

Ice slid down his neck. He clenched his hand around his phone. That she'd been alone, scared, in danger tore through him. Not once had he thought she wouldn't be well or safe. How he felt solidified his intentions. It was now or never. If he didn't pursue this, he would never get over her, never move on.

"Holy fridge tart, cupcakes are done. Got to go, Oli. Chat later." She hung up, leaving him hard, sad, lonely, and determined to see her.

Maybe when he gazed upon her heart-shaped face, he would realize they wouldn't suit? He could hope.

Maybe when she saw him, she would return his love? He snorted. Improbable. He was such an idiot to hope otherwise.