Free Risking It All by JM Stewart

sleep, shifting in the bed, but quieted and stilled. Within moments he settled back to sleep, his breathing going deep and even again.
    With a quiet, relieved sigh, she sat upright and scooted to the end of the bed. Her gaze focused on the doorway, she tiptoed across the room. If she was lucky, he’d sleep ’til noon like he usually did, and she could get out without having to confront him. She intended to pursue their conversation from last night. He wasn’t getting off that easily this time, but she needed time to pull herself together.
    She’d made it only halfway across the room when he gave a loud yawn behind her. “Morning, Ceci.”
    Her heart leapt into her throat, and she froze midstep. Now what? She couldn’t face him yet. He’d see right through her, would no doubt be able to read her mind, as he so often seemed to do. She couldn’t let him see her confusion or, heaven help her, her reaction to his touch. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what he’d say or do. She didn’t want to acknowledge the feelings, let alone admit to them, and if he turned her down, she didn’t know if she could handle it. She’d failed one too many relationships. If he told her she was only a sister to him, just his friend, it would crush her. It was childish to feel that way, and completely mixed-up, given that she refused to allow the feelings to take root.
    But she couldn’t deny the emotions, either. He was the one man in her life who mattered. Really mattered. She supposed, out of everybody in her life, he was the one person with enough of her to actually break her heart. And the thought of facing him right now . . . she was too embarrassed. How do you look your best friend in the face and tell him his touch made you imagine him naked? She just couldn’t.
    Her shoulders slumped. And neither could she put him off. If she bolted from the room, he’d know something was up. Then she’d be forced to face him or come up with some lame excuse. And they’d promised each other honesty a long time ago. When she was around fifteen, Gran had put off her questions again, leaving her with the feeling that she knew more than she let on, and Cecelia had made Kyle promise he’d never lie to her. Even if she didn’t like the truth. Then promised him the same.
    She sucked in a deep breath in an effort to calm her nerves, forced the calmest expression she could muster, and finally turned. Only to dissolve into a fit of giggles. Kyle sat up in the bed, rubbing his hands over his face. The short hairs on the top of his head jutted out at odd angles, reminiscent of a porcupine. Sunlight streaming in through the blinds caught the golden highlights, almost illuminating his head in a halo.
    His head jerked in her direction, amusement dancing in his eyes. “What are you laughing at?”
    She covered her mouth, giggling behind her hand. “Have you ever seen yourself in the morning?”
    He raked a hand through his hair, making more spikes stand up, but a tiny flush tinged his cheeks.
    “You’re one to talk.” His eyes narrowed, yet at the same time the left side of his mouth quirked up. “I think a rat made a nest in the back of your head while you were sleeping.”
    She dragged a hand through her hair, her fingers tangling in the knots he’d so kindly pointed out. Something about it all only made her laugh harder, until her sides ached and tears slid down her cheeks.
    Kyle rolled his eyes, playful and highly amused . . . but not surprised, and that’s when it hit her. With one last hiccup, her giggles died away, her earlier panic gone, taking the unwanted desire with it. This was Kyle. He’d been her best friend since she was seven. She grew up with him. He was the quintessential boy next door. He knew her better than anyone.
    Pregnancy hormones. That had to be it. The pregnancy hormones taking over her body had no doubt caused whatever insanity was taking over her mind these days.
    She dropped her hand to her side and smiled.