Best Friends With Benefits (Most Likely To)By: Candy Sloane
Seven minutes in heaven never felt so good...
Valerie Barkin and Alec Rogers survived bullies, awful parents, and seriously shitty social standing the only way best friends can—together. But with the unexpected sexual tension suddenly flaring between them, surviving their ten-year high school reunion might be a different story…
Val hasn’t changed. She still feels like the stringy-haired band geek the popular kids teased, but Alec has definitely changed. He’s now the front man for the Grammy-winning rock band Chronic Disharmony, with the sexual reputation to match. And he’s more than willing to help Val rock the reunion .
And then it happens—a drunken game of Seven Minutes in Heaven—and their fourteen-years-long foreplay comes crashing to the forefront…changing everything.
Seven minutes turns into a weekend of mind-blowing, no-strings-attached sex. But these best friends won’t be able to leave their hearts out of it forever, not when the most meaningful benefit could change their relationship for good....
Valerie had hit empty on her daily supply of exasperated groans. Over the past three hours, Alec’s lateness had ratcheted up from charming to maddening to code-red-level dick. Hanging out in baggage claim with her elbow propped on her upended suitcase and her face in her hand wasn’t how she’d planned on starting her high school reunion weekend.
Her chin was going numb and her neck ached. She shifted position and glanced down. While it alleviated her pain, the view rekindled it. Hours of waiting had wreaked wrinkled havoc on her tan linen skirt and fitted white button down.
She was going to kill him.
Her silent phone mocked her, though she was thankful for the excuse to have it glued to her hand. She’d been stalking her inbox all day for an email from the London Philharmonic.
She couldn’t will an acceptance email for their year-long residency program into her inbox any more than she could check one of the arrival screens for an update on where the hell Alec was. He was traveling by private plane—a smirk tugged at her lips—just like anyone would to his ten-year high school reunion .
Alec had taken the time they spent hanging out in the Kenmore High School band room and become the lead singer and lead guitarist of the Grammy-winning rock band Chronic Disharmony. Valerie had taken it and become the second flute chair for the Philadelphia Philharmonic.
For now. She snuck another furtive glance at her inbox.
She and Alec had been so similar in high school—Val and Al—but they were polar opposites now, at least in the music world. Well, Valerie seethed as more minutes ticked by, in etiquette, too.
She noticed a lanky guy with brown hair in the distance and perked up—finally—but the relaxed smile she’d pasted on as camouflage before she ripped Alec a new one stiffened.
It wasn’t him.
She crossed her arms and grumbled. Apparently he was going for induction into the Penis’s World Record Book.
She had timed their expected arrivals to coincide with dinner. Walking in fashionably late would assure that the people she wanted to avoid would be occupied. But now, the Opening Night Dinner had long since ended. Her stomach clawed and whimpered. She riffled through her carry-on for the last of her plane peanuts.
She hadn’t seen Alec in person since they’d graduated from Kenmore High, but lately his face had been everywhere: on TV, all over the internet, and on the cover of the magazine jutting out from her purse. She’d been browsing the airport newsstand in Philly before her flight when she saw him: Alec Rogers, her best friend, on the cover of Rolling Stone. They’d poured him into leather pants and nothing else. The museum of tattoos on his chest and shoulders was framed by taut arms. Two ladder rungs of ab muscles laced up his stomach, a concave at his belly button the perfect size for some lucky lady’s lips.
She shook her head, a stress headache nipping at her temples. Why am I thinking about that?
Maybe because she’d bought the copy of Rolling Stone to give Alec crap about being such a rock star pretty boy, but instead she’d stared at it, at him, from the time she boarded the plane until she had reached cruising altitude. It might have ended up with a ring of drool around that belly button had the flight attendant not interrupted to see if she wanted a drink.
She had. Vodka straight.
Her phone finally dinged with a text from Alec.
It was the same message he sent her daily, usually after midnight. She had thousands just like it and thousands of other texts from him filling her phone like confetti.
No, she typed, her fingers taut with annoyance, just waiting at the airport for some dick who’s more than three hours late.