by Stacey Lynn
“I did. I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep so I thought I’d get some work done.”
“We’ll get work done.” He nips at my earlobe, my jaw, letting me know that by “work,” he’s not thinking at all of my editing. I imagine it’s something much…hotter.
He spins me and I’m facing the shower wall, my hands going up to brace myself, and I’m a riot of emotions. Turned on. Nervous. The light-of-day morning sex is a different beast than the dark of night in a bed.
I haven’t always had the most adventurous sex life, but my imagination has taken over where reality has left off.
“God, Trey,” I drop my head and moan as his fingers slide to my front and down. Even without the shower water, I’m wet and slick as he slides his fingers through my slit, inside, teases my clit. The weight of him is at my back, one hand on the shower wall caging me in, with his chest to my back.
“We did slow last night—”
“Twice,” I confirm.
“Twice. But I think I promised you hard and fast, too.”
“You did. You’re really slacking with that.”
He laughs and sucks my shoulder hard enough to pull a groan from my throat. It’ll leave a mark for sure. I’m too fuzzy from lust to care.
“Trey,” I moan, reaching around myself to feel him. His lower back, his muscular butt, the scape of his dark hair on his thighs. The man is so damn beautiful.
But then he’s there, bending his knees, sliding my feet farther apart, and the tip of him is at my entrance. His fingers are still at my sex, sliding, preparing me, but I’m so more than ready I might finish before he can fill me.
“Please.” I throw my head back, rest it against his shoulder, and he slides in.
And oh dear, sweet mother of nature and all that is perfect in the world. The man fits me, stretches me, consumes me everywhere.
He takes his time sliding in, giving me time to adjust, but I’m already so close that if he doesn’t get his fingers off my clit I will finish before he gets started.
I grip his wrist and pull his hand off me, putting both of our hands on the shower wall.
“Fuck me.” It’s a demand. A dare. I don’t even know. But he chuckles at my ear, groaning, as he pulls out and thrusts himself back inside.
“Bossy.”
“Needy,” I correct him.
Fortunately for me, he listens. He moves in and out of me, and his hand not pressed against mine goes to my hip. We find our hurried rhythm like we’re in a race, him slamming in and out of me while I arch back, my body asking and seeking more.
It doesn’t take long until heat shoots down my spine to my core, my thighs quaking. I’m balanced on my toes, and I’m so close it only takes two more quick, filling, and heavy thrusts from Trey behind me to send me careening off the edge into pure, blissful pleasure.
“Oh, yes!”
My body spasms and I grip his hand tighter as the tremors slide through my body, all the way to my scalp.
“Fuck,” Trey groans, and he thrusts harshly inside of me. He pulses, empties himself, and it’s only then I realize what we’ve forgotten.
Shit. “Condom?”
He’s not even done and I’m ruining it. “Trey?” I ask, when he doesn’t say anything.
“Sh-shit. Willow. I’m so damn sorry. I’m clean, I swear it.” He pulls out quickly and I turn, collapsing against the shower wall. The tile is suddenly cold. The water no longer hot. I shiver as I press my hands to my face.
“I’m on the pill,” I tell him, my hands falling. “I’m on the pill.” Perhaps repeating it will take away my sudden fear. This is how Cara got knocked up. A one-night stand at her best friend’s wedding when a condom broke. Oh, the irony. Fortunately, I’m on the pill, and she wasn’t.
“It’s okay,” I say, but I’m only half serious. I never do this. I never forget to insist or have my own on hand.
And he came looking for me. Trey is standing in front of me, scrubbing his face, and he must feel my stare because he pierces me with a serious glare. “I didn’t mean this. I mean, I did, when I heard the shower running, but I wasn’t thinking. I’m clean though, I swear it. You’re diligent?”
“With my birth control? I use it like a Catholic prays the Hail Mary.”
“Okay.” He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “That’s a strange comparison, given the circumstances, but I get your point.”
So the metaphor is ridiculous, and he’s right. I grin. “It’ll be fine.”
“Okay.”
“Good.”
My legs are trembling and I can still feel the tremors of my orgasm subsiding. He’s still half hard and I quickly glance away, turning back to the shower to rinse off. “You can stay here and shower if you’d like.”
“Thank you.” I step around Trey, but his hand comes out and settles on my hip.
“Willow, it was one time. I won’t let that happen again. I’m sorry.” His head is dipped down, brown hair soaked, water dripping from his long, thick lashes. But his eyes are serious. Earnest. He didn’t plan this and it would be ridiculous for me to assume so.
“It’s okay, honest. It just startled me.” To prove it, I brush my lips across his and open the door, grabbing a towel from the hook on the way, and dry off.
Cara will lose her mind when…if…I tell her about this mishap. Hell, she’ll probably start baby shopping and throw a party for me.
* * *
—
I’m sitting in a chair on the deck outside our suites, feet curled under me and a freshly filled coffee mug in my hand. My hair is air-drying which isn’t the best, considering I have to style it soon, and once I had left the bathroom, I’d thrown on a pair of lightweight pajama shorts with a tank top. It’s still early, and on the small table next to me is my phone. Blank of notifications. I haven’t gathered the courage yet to text or call my mom, but the person I really want to call and scream at is my father. I’ve barely spoken to him since he walked out on my mom, and some days I still wonder if he realizes that, despite the fact I’m technically an adult, he’d walked away from me, too. Or if he cares. But damn him. His walking away created a downward spiral effect on my life and my mom’s, and I have so many questions to ask him about why he’d walk away with no closure and not even a heads-up to let me know.
The loss is heavier some days, mostly when I’m left to my own thoughts. The forgotten condom earlier brought up a slew of memories and terrified thoughts.
What if I do get pregnant? Is Trey the kind of guy who will stick around? Or would I see his back walking away and fading into the distance? It sucks that my dad has altered my view of men. When I was younger, I used to want to marry someone exactly like him, a stable, handsome provider, but as I grew older I saw things in him that made me curl my lip and filled my heart with disappointment. The missed ballet recitals. The forgotten cheer competitions. When he scheduled a business trip over my sixteenth birthday and never bothered to call me while he was gone. So, yeah, I wasn’t exactly kidding when I told Trey my emotional baggage might be heavier than the actual luggage I’d brought for a weekend.
Somehow, I’d met and fallen in love with a guy who’s the exact spitting image of my own dad. Scott always wanted everything his way, all the time, and yet when things mattered to me, he rarely showed interest. There’s blame on my part for sure, for allowing it and not standing up for myself sooner, but it’s a difficult line to walk when you love someone and want them to be happy. And yet, how could I have fallen in love with someone who’s so much like someone else I don’t respect, and how can I get over the fear I’ll do the exact same thing again?
I’m falling for Trey and yet I’m not sure how to trust someone, especially when that trust involves handing over your heart in the process.
Sighing, I set down my coffee and grab my phone. If anyone knows screwed-up famil
ies, it’s Cara, and I have no doubt she’ll be awake since Jimmy is an early riser.
Her phone rings twice and when she answers, there’s a giggling toddler in the background.
“You’re up early,” Cara says, through a yawn. “You calling to give me your sex-capades update?”
Memories of Trey’s body moving over me, all those beautiful and hard muscles contacting me as his hips rolled, flash in my mind.
“No.” She’s not getting those moments. “I need help.”
“What is it? What’d he do?” Her playfulness evaporates and there’s steel behind her sweet voice. “And do you need help hiding the body?”
“No, you freak. I’m having a crisis.”
“Oh. Well, that’s normal. I have one of those at least three times a day. What’s this one about?”
I glance around the deck, back through the windows just to make sure Trey hasn’t appeared without me noticing. He has to be done with his shower by now. “I really like this guy, Cara.”
“And that freaks you because…”
“ ‘Nothing gold can stay.’ ” The line from a Robert Frost poem, named the same, depresses me. Nothing good lasts. Spring loses its shine and disappears.
“Well, I’m not sure what that means, exactly, but you’re the former English major, and I’m assuming it means it won’t last. And I hear you, I do. I mean, I used to think the exact same.”
“I don’t know whether or not to trust this. Or him.”
“Well, that’s the sucky part of dating, I think. I mean, hell, even when I found out I was pregnant and told Braxton, he was all in from the beginning but it took me forever to really believe he wanted me and wasn’t just doing the right thing because of his baby, you know? It’s scary to give that to someone, and unfortunately, it doesn’t always work out, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth the risk.”
“I know all that.” I sound pouty. And I hate being pouty. “But my experience with men isn’t really a great barometer. Not all men are like Braxton.”
“They’re not all like your dad or Scott, either.”
Her retort comes quickly, with a sharp sting to it, shooting through the phone and piercing my chest.
“Great. Now I have a dose of daddy issues with my morning coffee.”
“I bet sugar and cream would taste better,” she teases, and then goes serious again. “Do you remember what I’ve told you about my brother?”
Her brother Jimmy had died of leukemia years ago. And yes, I know, because not only is it Cara’s mantra in life, but her friend Graham has similar words inked on his forearm.
“Be true, be you.”
“It’s all we can do, sweetie. Be who you are, say what you feel, and when the time is right…or completely wrong, in my case…the right man is there for you. When it all works out the way it’s supposed to, it makes all the other heartache worth it. You barely know this guy, so I can’t sit here and tell you to jump in with both feet because I can’t predict the future, and it’s too soon, anyway. But I know that Braxton tells me he knew he wanted me to be his forever in one night. It took him minutes. All I can tell you is trust yourself. The rest will come when it’s supposed to, and sometimes it still looks messy in the beginning, like my beginning with Brax.”
I sip my coffee and blink away tears. She’s right. It doesn’t make it easier. “You’re a good friend.”
“I’m the bestest.”
“That’s not a word, but I get your point. Can I ask you a huge favor today?”
“Sure. Anything.”
“Can you go check on my mom again? I still haven’t heard from her.”
“Yeah, we can do that. I’ll swing by after lunch to make sure she’s eating, but yesterday she really did seem fine. Spacey, a little bit, but fine otherwise.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem.”
I sit out on the balcony and finish my cooling coffee, still uncertain. Cara’s right. Love and forever aren’t guaranteed. The risk of heartbreak is always on the horizon.
The decision I need to make is if Trey Kollins is worth the risk.
Chapter 19
Trey
I double-check that the ice-blue tie is straight and press it against the white dress shirt I have to wear for the wedding. My linen suit pants are relatively wrinkle free but I know that’ll worsen by the time the night’s done. Fortunately, Caitlin’s insisting that everyone in the wedding party arrive an hour early for pictures, so I’ll look halfway decent for them.
I’ll do, at least, and since I just have to walk Caitlin down the aisle and then sit down it really doesn’t matter much.
Heading out of my room, I grab my phone and wallet, tucking both into my rear pockets. Hopefully, Willow won’t mind holding onto them during the pictures, but afterward I don’t really care.
She’s in the living room of her suite and so damn breathtakingly gorgeous she makes me forget how to walk.
“Wow,” I breathe out, and she spins in a quick circle facing me. Her blond hair flies out at her sides, settling on her shoulders and covering a sexy-as-hell pale-orange dress that shows off not only her tan but her blond hair and gorgeous figure. The dress looks smooth as silk, held up only by two thin straps on her shoulders, and the way her breasts bounce tells me she’s not wearing a bra.
What is it with this woman and no bras? Whatever it is, I hope she never puts one on around me. I might be falling in love with her full, perky breasts.
The dress flares above her knees, but I’m caught on all that hair, a wicked braided complication from the top of her head to above her ears and around the back of her head, everything else curled, and her smile bright to light up the room.
“You’re beautiful,” I say, finding my voice and picking up my balls. I have to man up.
I want this woman, and I have twenty-four more hours to convince her to give me a shot when we get home.
A thin gold necklace catches the light and sparkles and from what I can see it’s the only accessory she has on. But hell, who needs anything else when her dress is so fucking hot?
She walks to me, shoulders back, eyes still shining and her gaze sliding up my body so damn slowly I can practically feel her thin fingers following the movement.
“I’ve always thought you were so sexy in a tie.”
Not even thinking, I reach for it and readjust the knot. “Yeah?”
She’s checked me out before. Until now, she’s never given any indication except for the few times I’ve caught her blushing, but I never knew it was because of me.
“Yeah,” she breathes out, stepping closer. Her hand settles on my biceps, her head tilted to the side. “I never really could decide whether you were hotter in a suit or the sweatpants.”
I laugh. This woman. She’s so damn hard to read and so damn easy at the same time. Right now, her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are glassy, like she’s fantasizing about me in both and trying to decide which one she likes more.
“I like you in those jeans you wear that have a tiny tear right beneath your ass.” I’ve gotten more than one hard-on imagining kissing her, sliding my hand to her ass while slipping a finger beneath that frayed edge to see if her underwear is silky or cotton. Although after last night, I know they’re definitely silky. “And your blue Chucks.”
“They’d match this tie.” She slides her fingers down it, giving me a tug at the end and pulling herself closer. “I think I’d look good like that. Wearing this tie and only those shoes. What do you think?”
I think she’s hot as the fucking sun when she gets like this and my dick is so damn hard I’m at risk of punching through the lightweight linen pants.
“I think tonight I’m going to fuck you in only the tie, or maybe tie you to the bed with it and see if you like it.”
She smiles up at me, and somehow
, all the distance she put between us earlier is gone. But is it just because I’m a good-looking man she wants to screw? Or because of something deeper?
Rolling to her toes, she presses her lips to mine and whispers, “How important is this wedding to you? We could always try that now.”
She’s teasing. I can tell by the way her lips stretch into a smile, but I don’t back down. My hand goes to the back of her neck and I yank her to me, slamming my mouth to hers. She’s made me hard as steel in thirty seconds. There’s no way I can head down for pictures now, with my dick giving everyone in the wedding party a very happy and inappropriate salute.
“Turn around,” I growl at her mouth when she moves her body to me. Her hips are already pressing against me, rolling and searching for friction. If I don’t get us out of these clothes, we’re going to end up a huge wrinkled mess.
“We should go,” she groans, but her hands are still curled around my biceps and her legs are shaking.
“We need to be quick so I’m not walking Caitlin down the aisle with an erection the size of Texas.”
She laughs at that and turns around, her flesh now burning hot as I reach for the bottom of her dress and slide everything up and off her. She helps me with the front, and then I drape it over a chair by the table.
“Hands on the table,” I tell her, as I loosen my tie and unbutton my shirt. I pull everything off, eyes focused on the curve of her ass as she looks at me over her shoulder. One of her hands is between her legs and she licks her lips as I drop my boxers. Before forgetting—because once was definitely enough—I grab a condom out of my wallet and suit up.
“Spread your legs farther apart.”
She listens, and hot damn, there’s something so sexy about the way she complies.
“Trey.” It’s a plea and the sound of her begging puts me at risk of losing control again. But damn it, she just does it for me in myriad ways. I step behind her, reaching around the front and covering her fingers with mine where she’s rubbing circles around her clit. “Show me how you like it,” I whisper in her ear.
