Say You're Mine

by Alexis Winter

  And when he knocked and walked in, my jaw—and panties—nearly hit the floor.

  Wearing a crisp white shirt with a light gray vest and pants, he looked like a bad boy GQ model. With his sleeves rolled up, showing off his very defined forearms and tattoos, he became the walking embodiment of the term “arm porn.” And don’t get me started on his ass in those pants.

  I had no words when he walked in. But judging by how he looked me over in my red dress, neither did he.

  I snap back to the present when Becca gushes the question, “And who is this, Victoria?”

  Have I mentioned I hate that she still calls me by my full name?

  Shit. I know I asked Kalum to pretend he’s my boyfriend if we cross paths with Billy, but we never actually talked about how I would introduce him.

  “I’m Kalum. Tori’s boyfriend,” he says, keeping his hand on the small of my back. When we got off the elevator, he put it there almost immediately. I liked it too much to question it.

  “Boyfriend? Tori! Who knew you were capable of settling down with one guy? I figured with you being in the city, you’d be running through guys left and right!”

  I swore to myself I would not let this woman or her clique get under my skin. But when I told Kalum about people expecting me to fail, she was the leader of that club.

  Before I can answer, Kalum does it for me.

  “I’m sorry—Becca, was it? I’m not sure because Tori has never mentioned you in the year we’ve been together, and she talks about her hometown all the time. And I’m sorry, ladies, I don’t know your names either because your friend here won’t stop asking my girlfriend ridiculous questions. Anyway, this woman here is the best girlfriend and partner I could ask for. We both run successful businesses, and look at her, I’m going to have to keep an eye on her tonight. I’m sure every guy in here will be trying to relive a high school fantasy. Who was the guy you told me to keep an eye on?”

  We make eye contact and the smirk on his face will go down in history as my favorite look on Kalum. He doesn’t look brooding or intense like he has the past couple of months. He looks playful, young, and oh so hot.

  “Billy Matheny.”

  “Yes. Billy Matheny. Make sure he stays away from my girl here.”

  “You mean my husband,” Becca bites out.

  Shit! I didn’t know she and Billy were married.

  “Oh, well then, we should be fine. It seems that Billy and I have completely different tastes in women. If you ladies will excuse me, my girlfriend promised me a drink and a dance.”

  Kalum guides me away and I can’t help but look back. Becca looks insanely mad. Her bitch squad seems stunned. And I’ve been at this reunion for 10 minutes and it’s the best time I’ve had in Smithville maybe ever.

  The main reason I wanted to come to this reunion was to show everyone that I wasn’t a failure—that I went to Chicago and built a life I’m proud of.

  Apparently, even the people who stayed in Smithville wanted the same thing.

  After my run-in with Becca and the Bitches (why did it take me almost 15 years to come up with that nickname?), I ran into people I actually liked in high school, only to find out that everyone has had their goods and their bads.

  Beth, who I sat by in chemistry junior year, is trying to balance being a stay-at-home mom with three kids while also getting her custom wreath business on Etsy off the ground. Elijah, who I always knew was gay but the poor guy was scared to come out in high school, is now the middle school math teacher. He and his husband Aaron are trying to adopt.

  And who knew, but Smithville now has a coffee shop, and it’s run by Meredith, who was a few years older than me, but didn’t know a stranger at Smithville High. We just spent close to a half-hour swapping ideas and sharing horror stories. Luckily, her fiancé is into cars, so he and Kalum found the bar and talked engines while we swapped numbers and email addresses.

  I must say, this is a pretty perfect night.

  As I wait at the table for Kalum, who had to take an urgent call outside, all I can do is smile while swaying to a late-90s ballad that reminds me of middle school dances. I wave to a few people as they walk by, most starting to filter out as the reunion comes to a close.

  “May I have this dance with the most beautiful woman here?”

  Unfortunately, those words aren’t coming from the man I’ve been trying not to drool over all night. Instead, they’re coming from my arch-nemesis’ husband.

  “Billy, I’m not going to dance with you. How about you dance with your wife?”

  I still can’t believe Billy and Becca got married, yet I can. They’re actually perfect for each other—both pretentious and annoying. I wonder if their kids are all named with Bs as well?

  Billy leans down, close enough so only I can hear him.

  “You can’t wear a dress like that and expect me to not see what it will take for you to take me back to your room.”

  Who the fuck is this guy? He’s married! And his wife is literally in the same room right now.

  I turn to him, also not wanting others to hear.

  “If you don’t get away from me right now, I’ll squeeze your dick so hard you’ll never be able to get it up again. Which shouldn’t be a problem, considering from what I remember, it only got to be about four inches anyway. Not much you can do with that. Oh, and my new boyfriend is a former car thief. Would be a shame if one day all your inventory was just, well, gone.”

  At that moment, Kalum approaches the table, looking pissed as all hell. I don’t know if it was the phone call, or if Billy is too close for his comfort, but the heat radiating off him right now is intense. I can feel it course through me as his hand lands on my shoulder. It’s sexy as fuck.

  “Is there a problem, gorgeous?”

  “Nope. Not at all,” I say, grabbing my purse and standing up as his hand slides down to my hip. “I was just explaining to Billy here why he should go find his wife.”

  Kalum gives Billy a once-over, and the look could make grown men cry. “I think that’s a good idea. Plus, I want one dance with you before we head upstairs.”

  Not bothering to say goodbye to Billy, Kalum guides me onto the dance floor. We actually didn’t dance all night. He already did me a huge favor by coming here with me; I didn’t want him to feel like he had to dance with me.

  But I’m now learning that Kalum West is one hell of a dancer. With one hand on the small of my back, and the other clasped with mine over his heart, his movements are smooth and fluid—not just swaying back and forth.

  “If I knew you were this good of a dancer, I would have dragged you out here hours ago,” I say, loving the feel of being against his chest, flowing with the music.

  “Growing up, it was just my mom raising Maverick and me,” Kalum says, his words right against my ear, sending chills down my spine. “My dad . . . well, he wasn’t a good dude. Bad into drugs. He died when Maverick and I were young. But my mom was insistent that her sons be the type that girls could take home to their parents. One of those lessons was dancing.”

  “I’m now mad that my parents are out of town,” I say, chuckling at the thought of Kalum meeting my parents. What would two people who have never left Wisconsin think of my long-haired, tattooed fake boyfriend?

  We dance for another minute, just letting the music flow through us. There is no room between us—my chest against his as he holds me, swaying to the ballad. Being this close to Kalum is everything and nothing like I thought it would be.

  “What did Billy say to you earlier?”

  I sigh, not really wanting to get into it. “He made an inappropriate remark. Let’s just say I set him straight.”

  He lifts his head from where it was, resting against mine. “Do I need to take care of it?”

  The fire in his eyes is undeniable. If I said the word “go,” he’d be beating Billy to a pulp.

  “No,” I say with a smile. “It’s handled. Though I must say, you’re taking this whole fake boyfriend role very se
riously.”

  He stops moving but doesn’t let go of me. He has that same look in his eyes that he just had talking about Billy.

  Intense. Predatory. Claiming.

  “He wanted what wasn’t his.”

  I give him a look, knowing this may well be the only chance I’ll have to try to take what I want. And what I think he wants as well.

  “But I’m not yours either.”

  Before I know it, his lips come crashing down on mine, silencing anything else I could say. And then he abruptly ends it, leaving me panting.

  I want to ask what that was, but I can’t, because he suddenly says the words I never thought I’d hear.

  “Tonight, you will be.”

  10

  Kalum

  I’ve told myself from the beginning that I can’t have Tori. That there are a million reasons why us being together is an absolutely horrible idea.

  But hell if I can think of a damn one of them right now.

  My mom taught Maverick and me to dance, though I’ll admit I’ve actually done it with very few women in my life. But I can’t imagine any other woman feeling as good as Tori did in my arms. How she felt pressed against me, how the music flowed through us . . . it wiped my brain clean of any rational thought.

  And I don’t give a fuck. Because tonight, I’m not worrying about the shitstorm I have brewing at home with the garage. I’m not going to worry about how she and I are a bad idea.

  Tonight, I’m just going to allow myself to let go.

  We barely make it to our hotel rooms without ripping each other’s clothes off. Thank God we were alone in the elevator, because our companions would have had a front-row seat to a kiss that could melt a glacier. Frenzied is an understatement right now. This isn’t just buildup from tonight—this is nearly a year’s worth of sexual tension about ready to explode.

  As soon as I open my door, I turn and pin her against it. We’ll get to the bed later. Right now, I must fucking have her.

  I hear a ripping sound, which I’m guessing is her dress as she wraps her legs around my waist. Her heels are digging into my ass as she tries to hold on, and I fucking love every second of it. Her dress is bunched around her waist and her thong is the only barrier between me and what I’ve been denying myself for so long.

  Our lips find their way back to each other again, just as hard and passionate as we were in the elevator. But it’s not enough. I need more.

  I start kissing and sucking on her neck, finding a spot that drives her wild by the way she’s now grinding on my dick. I know I’m probably leaving my mark all over her skin. Ask me if I care.

  I don’t. I want to mark her so every fucker who sees her tomorrow knows she was with me.

  “Kalum,” my name comes out in a moan from her lips, and fuck if it’s not the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.

  I continue my assault on her skin—kissing, nipping, and sucking from her neck down to her chest before I pull at the deep V of the red dress that’s been fucking taunting me all night.

  “Were you not wearing a bra tonight, Tori?” I take her tit into my mouth, knowing I’m sucking roughly, but not having any restraint to hold myself back.

  She doesn’t answer. The only sounds leaving her mouth are groans and sighs as I lap her nipple before giving it a gentle bite.

  She must like that judging by her tightening grip around my neck, her nails now digging into my skin. I’ll commit that to memory for later.

  I switch my attention to the other one, loving how she feels in my mouth and my hands. She has always reminded me of a badass Snow White. Her black hair and creamy white skin are the stuff of fantasies.

  At least mine.

  I knew if I ever had the pleasure of being with this woman, it would be something I’d want to remember for the rest of my life. I’m committing every suck, kiss, lick, and moan to memory.

  “Kalum, I need more. Please . . . I need . . .”

  Her words trail off as she continues to seek out friction at her core. “What do you need, Tori? I need to hear the words. Tell me what you want.” Right now, I’ll give this woman anything. Any way she wants it. I might be holding her up against the door, claiming any inch of skin I can, but she calls the shots.

  “I want to come, Kalum . . . I need to come.”

  “How, Tori? Tell me how you want it.”

  I stop sucking on her tits and look her in the eyes. My abrupt halt leaves her panting, but the fire in her eyes is worth my delay. She looks drunk on lust—an addict needing one more hit—and she’ll take whatever I give her.

  Right now, I’ll give her anything she wants.

  “I don’t care. I just need more, Kalum. Please give me more. Make me scream.”

  Well, if she doesn’t care, then I’m going to have a taste of what I’ve been denying myself for months.

  “Legs down, Tori, but hold on.”

  I kneel down in front of her and take one of her legs onto my shoulders. As I look up, it’s a sight that I’ll remember on my deathbed: tits falling out of a dress that’s bunched around her hips, a black lace thong that shouldn’t be considered a garment, and eyes that are burning into me with every ounce of lust imaginable.

  Fucking perfect.

  It only takes one sweep of my tongue for her legs to nearly buckle, but her hands quickly find my shoulders and she begins holding on for dear life.

  Not wanting to hold back, I rip off the scrap of lace that was posing as underwear. By the look in her eyes and her nails digging into my shoulders, she’s more than fine with losing an item of lingerie as I toss it aside.

  I love that she’s not holding back now, riding my face as I work my tongue in and out of her, rubbing my thumb against her sensitive clit.

  “Oh God, Kalum . . . I’m going to come . . . just a little bit—AHHHH!”

  The scream came as I gave a little bite to her clit, almost violently sending her over the edge. I know her juices are all over my face, and I couldn’t give two shits.

  Having Tori come apart like that is without a doubt the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

  Her legs finally give out, not able to hold her up as her orgasm rips through her. She collapses to the floor, but I’m there to catch her, moving her on top of me.

  “If I’d have known you could do that, I would have been much more aggressive in getting you to take me to bed,” she says lazily into my chest.

  I chuckle. “You could have been more aggressive?”

  She looks up at me with her chin on my chest, and I’m making myself ignore how much I love having her weight on top of me.

  “Yes. I mean, I could have shown up at your garage wearing nothing but a trench coat and heels. I could have sent you nude photos to try to entice you. I took it easy on you. I mean, not knowing if you could handle me, I didn’t want to give your old heart too much to handle.”

  I flip her over, her laughter filling the air as I take her hands above her head and place a chaste kiss on her lips. If she minds that she can taste herself, she doesn’t show it. In fact, she deepens the kiss, pulling me closer.

  My cock is hard as stone right now. She can’t be throwing words like that around and not expect me to do something.

  “You don’t think I can handle you?” I say as I lean back and free my cock from my pants, grabbing a condom before I toss them to the side. “Gorgeous, I think you won’t be able to handle me.”

  Her eyes are now glued to my length, and I can see the wheels turning in her head.

  “Prove it.”

  And I do.

  11

  Tori

  I’m no stranger to sex. I’ve had good sex, bad sex, and everything in between. Times when I didn’t know if it had happened and others when I didn’t know if it would ever end.

  What Kalum and I did last night doesn’t fit into any prior category. In fact, the category hasn’t been invented yet. I don’t have words to describe it.

  Incredible. Amazing. Earth-shattering.

&nb
sp; Still, even those words don’t feel like enough to describe what we did—three times.

  I knew Kalum would be good. Don’t ask me how, but I just knew. No man can look like that, carry himself with the kind of confidence he does, and not know what he’s doing between the sheets.

  Well, he knew what he was doing there. And on the floor. And in the shower. Anyone who says shower sex isn’t all that good needs to have shower sex with Kalum West.

  No, scratch that. No one can have shower sex with Kalum except me.

  And that thought freaks me the fuck out.

  Even in my most serious relationships, which usually lasted only a few months, I was never the possessive type. If a guy ended it before I did, it never bothered me. I knew there was always an expiration date anyway, so him ending things saved me the trouble. But the thought of Kalum with another woman is enough to send me into a jealous rage.

  Maybe it’s because I’m lying in his hotel room bed, looking at him with the sheet barely covering his bottom half. A very sexy bottom half that I became quite acquainted with last night.

  Yes, that has to be it. It was only a few hours ago that he was buried inside me, hitting spots I didn’t know existed. I’m in some sort of post-sex delusion.

  I’m not a relationship person. Never have been. Never will be. Relationships only lead to heartbreak and disappointment. I don’t care how good sex with Kalum is.

  Or his oral skills.

  Especially his oral skills.

  But maybe . . .

  As my brain starts going down avenues I never thought it would, I feel Kalum stir next to me, rolling over so he’s now facing me. I didn’t know how long he’d sleep this morning since we were up pretty late last night.

  I have no idea what time we actually fell asleep. We finally made it to the bed and passed out as soon as our bodies found the mattress. A few hours later, he woke me up for round two. Which led to round three.