“Admit it. Admit that you wanted that kiss as much as I did.”
I wish someone would have warned me about my best friend Deacon Cross when we were nine.
Because nearly sixteen years later, the only man I’ve forbidden myself to cross that line with still doesn’t understand my rules of friendship.
Best friends aren’t supposed to kiss.
They’re not supposed to dream of having insanely hot sex while working together, either. And they’re definitely not supposed to keep secrets.
And now I wish I had warned myself about this two days ago. Right before Deacon kissed me for the second time. And all of the rules changed…