I shift my weight, realizing how close we’re standing. “Yeah, that’s true. I enjoy it for what it is.”

Something doesn’t add up. Becca is a good girl. She’s not the kind of girl who does casual hookups—she’s the kind of girl you settle down with once you’ve sowed your wild oats and are ready for monogamy.

She reaches up, patting my chest, whispering and giggling at the same time. “You know, there are rumors that you have a really big dick. I’ve been on message boards and seen girls talk about him—I mean it.”

I almost swallow my tongue. Drunk Becca is freaking hilarious and has absolutely no filter. What exactly does one say to that? “Thank you” feels inappropriate. And I’m certainly not going to disagree with her, so I opt to stay quiet.

“Okay, then.” I clap my hands together once. “Enough with the bedtime stories. It’s time for you to sleep off the booze.”

She drops onto my bed, sighing dramatically, and as she does, the T-shirt I gave her rides up her thighs, giving me a clear view of her panties beneath.

They’re light blue. Cotton. Basic. And still sexy as hell.

I swallow and take a deep breath. “Becca, close your legs.”

She sits cross-legged and looks up at me. “Hmm?”

“I can see your panties.” I make a point of looking down at her lap and swallow. “Please close your legs.”

She seems unconcerned about this, probably because she’s so comfortable with me. And it’s not like they’re even sexy panties, but my body doesn’t care.

Becca is gorgeous, poised, sweet, and smart. Just because we’ve always stayed firmly in the friend zone doesn’t mean I don’t notice how attractive she is. You’d have to be blind not to.

I should tuck her in and leave. I definitely shouldn’t be standing here ogling her like she’s on tonight’s menu. She’s a good friend to my younger sister, Elise, and she’s a good friend to me, one of the only females I’m close friends with. She works at the arena, and I cannot, will not fuck anything up by objectifying her.

“You’ll be comfortable in here, right?” I hear myself asking.

She nods and smiles. “Thank you, Owen. What would I do without you?”

I suck in a harsh breath between my teeth. “Becca. Your legs.”

“I mean, here I am all broken, and you’re being so sweet to me.”

“You’re not broken.” My voice has a hard edge to it, and I clear my throat, trying again in a softer tone. “Why would you say that?”

I know her history, and it’s awful. It makes my blood boil just thinking about it.

Becca survived a brutal attack her freshman year at college, and the upperclassman who tried to rape her only got a slap on the wrist. It was some bullshit technicality that the judge latched onto. The deed hadn’t been completed before the fuckface was pulled off of Becca by a bystander, who I wish I could thank. Still, the attack left a lasting impression on Becca. I didn’t know her then, but I do know she’s been through years of counseling to deal with it, and still carries the emotional scars. How could you not?

She grabs my pillow and hugs it to her chest. “It’s just, I want to move on, you know? I don’t want to be defined by my past. But every time I get close to someone . . .”

“What?” I ask, stepping closer to the bed.

She shakes her head. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just a big pussy when it comes to hooking up.”

Realization of her choice of words hits her, and Becca starts laughing. “Pussy. Oh my God!” She clamps one hand over her mouth, still giggling.

I chuckle along with her. “You don’t have to hook up and sleep around if you don’t want to. There’s nothing wrong with being choosy. Hell, I think it’s a damn good thing.”

She licks her lips, curling her legs under her in the center of my bed. “I know. It’s just, I feel like I’m finally at a place where I want more, and I have no idea how to go and get it.”

I’d already met her through Elise, but it was when Becca started working in the office at the arena that we became instant friends. I used to tease her about why she never dated, and then she finally told me the truth. She’s dated casually but has a hard time trusting people and opening up, and anytime a man attempts to take it to the next level, she completely freezes up. Which makes sense, obviously.

“I mean, seriously, do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been kissed?” Her eyes are wide and eager.

“I—don’t.”

“A long freaking time.”

“Any man alive would be happy to kiss you.” My voice comes out a little tight.

She nods. “It’s what comes after the kissing that makes me nervous.” Then she looks up and meets my eyes, her bright blue gaze inquisitive and demanding. “The only guy I’m comfortable with is you. I mean, if you wanted to take a break from all the bunnies and help me get back in the saddle . . .”

She starts giggling again, and my heart fucking stops.

“Saddle. Get it?” She chuckles, raising her eyebrows dramatically while she pokes me in the ribs.

I hope like fuck I’m hearing things, because otherwise I’m pretty sure Becca just suggested we have sex, and there’s nothing about that scenario that makes any sense.

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” I ask, my voice sounding as tense as my body feels.

She taps her fingers to her chin, pondering this. “Two margaritas at the bar.” She counts those on her slender fingers. Her nails are painted pale pink. “And then I think a couple of tequila shots when we got back here.”

“Who let you have that much tequila?”

She shakes her head. “I’m fine. I’m not even that ’toxicated. Plus, this is the most genius plan I’ve ever had, really, Owen. It’s brilliant.”

Averting my eyes, I groan. “Please, for the love of God, close your legs.”

“Huh. Why?”

“Because I can see your panties.” For the fourth time.

“Oh, sorry.”

Does she seriously think I’m mad? I’m about to go certifiably insane.

Becca twists one long dark lock of hair around her finger as her gaze wanders over my body. “I hope you haven’t shaved your chest, because I love the hair on it.”

I’ve never heard words like this come out of her mouth in the four years we’ve been friends. My heart begins to hammer against my ribs.

“I mean, I know you’re probably a lot bigger than the toy I use, but we could at least try.”

Toy? My mouth has gone bone dry. Focus, Owen.

“Becca, I’m not going to fuck you.”

“Why not?”

Why not? Sweet fuck. I can’t with her right now.

“Because. You have issues with intimacy and trust and . . .” My mind goes completely blank. Where the fuck am I going with this?

She’s nodding. “Exactly. And you could help me get past those insecurities because I trust you completely, and we’re besties.”

I shake my head. “You should sleep it off.”

Several tense seconds tick by. Neither of us moves.

“Can I just at least look at it?” Her words come barreling out, her tone hinting at annoyance.

She’s annoyed with me? Oh, that’s rich. I’m trying to do the right thing, and she’s making my job ten times harder. Literally.

“Look at what?”

Her gaze drops to my crotch. “Your penis.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “You want to look at my dick?”

“No. Well, yes. I mean, please, Owen. I need to prove to myself that there’s nothing scary about this, right?”

Something painful squeezes inside my chest. She needs help remembering that men aren’t scary, and she feels safe enough with me to not only talk about it, but also ask for my help.

Fuck. I rake my hands through my hair as my mind runs at a million miles an hour.

I would do anything for this girl. The moment I really got to know her, I became protective of her. Even though her request is crazy, there’s this achy feeling in the center of my chest for her.

“It’s just a plain ol’ wiener, right? Nothing to be scared of. But every time I even think about it . . .” She squeezes her eyes closed and gives her head a firm shake. “I freeze.”

“Becca.” I stop beside the bed and place one hand on her shoulder. Her eyes open and latch onto mine. “You can’t be serious here.”

“Just one quick peek before I go to sleep?” she asks again, those big blue eyes still peering hopefully up at mine.

Christ. Why won’t she just drop this? Doesn’t she know my self-control is hanging by a thread? I’m a guy . . . and a woman wants to see my junk, so, of course I’m actually contemplating it.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Understatement of the century.

She scoffs. “The guys in the locker room have probably seen it eight thousand times. It’s not a big deal.” She pouts, pushing out her lower lip.

Apparently, because I’m a masochist who has no problem showing off his dick, I start to soften to the idea. “One quick look, and then I’m leaving and you’re going to sleep.”

She bounces up and down on her knees, practically giddy. “Yes. I promise.”

This is so fucking weird. Like a twisted version of show and tell.

“You’ve got ten seconds, Becca.”