by Keeland, Vi
“I don’t give a shit about getting caught. And what do I want? I thought you’d figured that out by now.” He moved closer. “I want you, Autumn.”
I looked down, shaking my head. “Just go with the blonde.” Even saying the words caused a sharp pain inside my chest.
“I don’t want the blonde. I want what’s right in front of me.” He slipped two fingers under my chin and nudged my head up so our eyes met. “I’m goddamn crazy about you, Autumn. And I know you feel the same way about me. What’s it going to take for you to finally admit it?”
I tasted salt in my throat and swallowed hard to fight the tears I knew were on their way. “I can’t, Donovan.”
He stepped closer. “You can. I don’t know what’s got you so afraid, but whatever it is, I’ll help you get through it.”
I could handle being jealous. I could handle him being jealous and angry, but I couldn’t handle him being so damn amazing and caring. Tears brimmed my eyes.
“Donovan…”
He took another step closer and cupped my cheeks. A warm tear spilled over and started to roll down my face, but his thumb caught it. “I don’t know what else to say to convince you. So I want to show you.” He looked back and forth between my eyes. “Stop me now if you’re not okay with that.”
My heart pounded in my chest. My head was a damn mess of conflicting emotions, but my body wasn’t. It wanted what was on the verge of happening more than I could ever remember wanting anything—so much so that my lips parted, and my tongue slid along my mouth to wet them before I could even catch up to think about what they were preparing for. Donovan watched intently. Even though my body had basically just rolled out the red carpet and invited him to kiss me, he still gave me time to change my mind.
He leaned closer, inch by painstaking inch, until we were nose to nose, and my inhales became his exhales. One of his big hands slipped from my cheek to trail its way around to the back of my neck. Donovan looked into my eyes one last time, and even though he’d said I’d need to stop him, I saw a hint of hesitation. In that moment, the panic I’d been feeling about him kissing me suddenly turned into panic that he wouldn’t. So I nodded.
The biggest smile crossed his face, just before he crushed his lips to mine. Our tongues eagerly collided. It had been close to a year since we’d kissed, yet our bodies needed no time to get reacquainted. Donovan’s hand at my neck slid down to my ass, and with one quick hitch, he hoisted me into the air. My legs wrapped around his waist, and he turned and walked us until my back hit the wall. Donovan grinded between my parted legs, and a hand wound into my hair and yanked my head back, exposing my neck. He groaned as he kissed his way from my lips to my chin and sucked along my neck.
“Fuck,” he growled. “Do you feel it? You must. It’s clawing from the inside trying to get out.” He took my mouth again.
Nothing had ever tasted so good or felt so right. Absolutely nothing. It was impossible to deny the physical connection, even if I kept denying the emotional one.
I wasn’t sure how long we stayed like that—kissing and grabbing, groping and grinding—but I never wanted it to end. Everything felt so very right, so perfect. Though you know what they say about all good things…
They get interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Donovan…”
CHAPTER 16
* * *
Autumn
“Donovan…” I nudged at his chest. “Did you hear that?”
He mumbled through our joined lips. “Say my name again. I fucking love it.”
“No…Donovan…” I pulled back. “Someone knocked.”
He cupped my neck firmly and tried to bring me closer again. “That’s just my heart pounding against my ribs.”
Could I have been imagining it? I didn’t think so. But I’d been so engrossed in the moment, anything was possible. I listened carefully for a few heartbeats, but the only sound was our heavy breathing.
“See?” Donovan said. He nudged my neck closer to him once more. “Now give me that mouth.”
But just as our lips met, another knock came, this time louder. “Is someone in there?”
I gasped at the sound of the man’s voice. Donovan quickly covered my mouth with one hand and held his pointer up to his lips with the other. My eyes were wide as he leaned his head toward the door and spoke. “Occupied. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Sorry. No rush.”
Donovan’s eyes returned to mine. He again made the shhh sign with his finger. I nodded, and he removed his hand and set me down on my feet before guiding me to the far side of the bathroom and turning on the faucet.
He leaned in and whispered in my ear. “Kyle Andrews. He’s a partner—decent guy. But eats lunch every day with Dickson.”
I felt the color drain from my face. “What are we going to do?”
“I’ll go out first and try to talk him up so you can slip out.”
“Oh my God! We’re going to get caught.”
“I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“I’m not worried about me, Donovan. Yes, it’s a shitty thing to do when I’m here with another man, and I’ll be mortified. But things with Blake are casual. You will lose your job, though.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
I shook my head. “Let’s just stay in here.”
Donovan frowned. “The guy’s waiting. Plus, eventually people will notice we’re missing. Dickson certainly will if he’s got half a damn brain.”
“Why don’t we just say I wasn’t feeling well and you came in to help me?”
Donovan’s eyes dropped to my mouth, and he ran his finger over my swollen bottom lip. “He’s not an idiot.”
I blew out a nervous rush of hot air and nodded. “Okay.”
“Listen at the door. When I say it’s hot out today, that means it’s clear for you to slip out.”
I nodded.
Donovan turned off the water and walked to the door. I followed close behind so I wouldn’t miss hearing anything. Just as he reached for the knob, he stopped and turned back. Cupping my cheeks, he leaned in and dropped one last gentle kiss on my lips. Ready? he mouthed.
I wasn’t, but I nodded nonetheless.
I felt physically sick as he opened the door enough to slip out. Rather than shut it behind him, he left it open a crack for me to listen.
“Took you long enough,” the man’s voice said.
“Sorry. Hey, where’s your wife, by the way? Cheryl, right?”
“Yeah. She didn’t come. She’s home with what she calls the ‘never-ending pregnancy’. God forbid I remind her she still has two months to go.”
Donovan chuckled. “She’s a designer, right?”
How the hell is he staying so calm and sounding so damn normal?
“Mostly she spends a fortune redecorating rooms she just did a year or two ago at our place, but yeah—she was an interior designer.”
“Did you see the painting down at the end of the hall?”
“No, why?”
“Would you mind taking a picture of it and asking her if she knows who the artist is?”
“Why don’t you just ask Kravitz?”
“He doesn’t remember.”
“Oh…yeah, sure.”
I listened as footsteps moved away from the door. When they stopped, Donovan said, “This is the one. I guess it’s probably for the best your wife didn’t come, seeing as it’s hot as hell out there today.”
Oh God. That was my cue. I thought I might throw up, but I cracked open the door enough to peer down the hall. The partner’s back was to me while he faced the painting and fidgeted with his phone. Donovan leaned back and glanced in my direction before motioning with his hand for me to leave. So I took a deep breath, hitched my purse up on my shoulder as I slipped out the door, and darted for the stairs as quietly as I could.
I had no idea if anyone saw me, because I didn’t stop to look back. Blood rushed through my veins as I sprinted down to the main level. It wasn�
��t until my feet left the very last step that I even noticed I’d been holding my breath. And apparently, I also wasn’t paying attention to where I was going, because I ran right into a solid chest.
“Whoa. Where’s the fire?” Blake smiled. But he took one look at my face and his upturned lips wilted. “Are you okay?”
My hands were shaking. The tips of my fingers felt numb, and I couldn’t even try to hide that I had no blood left in my face. A sheath of sweat also broke out across my forehead.
When I didn’t answer right away, Blake put his hands on my shoulders. “Are you sick?”
Oh, thank God. I needed someone to give me a solid lie. I nodded. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I’m not sure if I’m coming down with something or maybe I ate something that didn’t agree with me, but I just got sick.”
“I was wondering what was taking you so long in the bathroom. Do you want me to get you anything? Some soda or a water or something?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I think I’m just going to call an Uber and go home.”
“An Uber? Don’t be silly. I’ll drive you.”
“No. It’s your work party, and we haven’t been here very long. You should stay. I don’t want to ruin your afternoon.”
Blake smiled warmly. “You aren’t ruining anything. I hate these things, anyway. I put in some face time. That’s all I needed to do.”
I really, really just wanted to slink out the door, jump into an Uber, and hightail it back to the city, but I also didn’t want to raise any suspicions. So I nodded, though the thought of spending two hours driving back from the Hamptons in a car with Blake after what had just happened in the bathroom made me feel like I might break out in hives.
Blake leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “There’s a library right down that hall—last door on your left. Why don’t you go sit down in there. I’ll do a quick round of goodbyes, and we’ll get out of here.”
I needed to get my head screwed on straight, so I thanked him and walked down the hall. Ten minutes later, Blake came into the library.
“Sorry that took so long,” he said. “You ready to go?”
I stood and attempted one last-ditch effort. “It’s really no trouble to take an Uber. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay than spend two hours in the car with someone who doesn’t feel well?”
Blake wrapped his arms around me and brought me to his chest. “Two hours with a sick you is better than an afternoon with all these clowns, anyway.” He kissed the top of my head.
God, why did he have to be so damn nice? As if I didn’t already feel like shit.
“Come on.” He released me and gestured toward the door. “Let’s get you out of here.”
I thought we’d gotten out of the party unscathed until Blake opened the front door for me. Donovan was standing outside on the porch by himself.
He looked at me, then Blake, then me again, without saying a word.
“What are you doing out here, Decker?” Blake pulled the door closed behind him. “You’re not trying to escape the party, are you?”
Donovan’s face remained impassive. “Nope. Just needed some fresh air.”
“Are you feeling sick? Autumn thinks something she ate might not have agreed with her. I hope the whole place doesn’t come down with food poisoning.”
Donovan looked straight at me. “Pretty sure it’s not food poisoning.”
“Good. Alright then, enjoy the party.” Completely oblivious, Blake put his hand on my back. “And Decker, this is a good opportunity for you today. So don’t do something stupid and screw it up.”
I shut my eyes. God, where was that advice half an hour ago? I felt Donovan’s eyes on me, but I didn’t want to make matters worse, so I kept my head down when I said goodbye and walked to the car, slumped in a walk of shame.
The ride home was long, and I spent it lost in my head. I answered when Blake asked me a direct question, but otherwise I didn’t talk much. Thankfully, both the physical symptoms I’d displayed and the mental distance could be blamed on not feeling well. When we pulled up to my apartment, Blake started to look for a place to park, but I really needed to be alone.
“I’m so sorry I caused you to leave the party early, but if you don’t mind, I’m not really up for company right now.”
“Oh. Yeah, of course. I get it. I like to be left alone when I don’t feel well, too.”
I forced a smile. “Thanks.”
“I’ll park and walk you to the door.”
I shook my head. “It’s fine. You don’t need to walk me.”
“You sure?”
I nodded.
“At least let me double park and open your door.”
“Okay.”
Blake walked around to my side and opened the passenger door. Extending a hand, he helped me from the car and kept my hand in his. “I’ll text you later to see how you’re feeling.”
I was pretty sure I’d still be feeling the same—like a giant piece of shit. Yet I smiled again. “Thank you.”
He leaned in for a kiss, and a wave of panic washed over me. Without thinking, I put my hand on his chest and stopped him. Blake’s face wrinkled.
“I…I don’t want to get you sick.”
He smiled. “I’ll risk it.”
I covered my mouth. “No…really.”
Blake gave me a conciliatory smile and lifted my hand to his mouth, brushing his lips over my knuckles. “Feel better. I’ll see you soon.”
CHAPTER 17
* * *
Donovan
I’m not going to call. The ball is in her court here. If she wants to keep seeing that assface, that’s fine with me. Nothing I can do about it.
I sucked back my third vodka tonic since I’d walked in the door not even an hour ago, grabbed the spray bottle off the kitchen counter, and proceeded to angry-water my plants as I ranted.
“It’s bullshit. There’s no fucking way she feels the same with Dickson.”
Spray. Spray.
“I just need to get laid. That’s all this shit is.”
Spray. Spray.
“I’m not calling her. Screw that. You know what? Screw her.”
Spray. Spray.
But then I remembered what she’d looked like in that bathroom—red cheeks, lips swollen, hair that looked like it had just been fisted—because it had, by me. Fucking gorgeous.
And then what she’d looked like as she walked out of the house—pale, nervous, as sickly as she pretended to be.
Maybe I should just check on her…
I looked over at my cell phone on the counter and shook my head.
“No. You’re not calling her. She’s fine.”
Spray. Spray.
But what if…
“No.” Spray. Spray. “Just no.”
Ten minutes later, my plants were drowning, so I figured I’d join them and poured another vodka tonic. I was more of a couple-of-beers guy, or a glass of wine with dinner, so liquor hit me like a ton of bricks.
I downed half the fourth glass and stared at my cell phone.
“Stop looking at me, or I’ll spray you, too.”
That last comment, for some ridiculous reason, made me laugh maniacally. I felt a little insane standing in the middle of my apartment bent over in hysterics, but when I was done, my anger had dissipated. Apparently, I needed a good laugh…or a fourth vodka.
No longer angry, I swiped my phone from the counter and headed to the living room with the rest of my drink in hand. I kicked my feet up and alternated between lolling my head back and staring up at the ceiling and sipping my vodka tonic, lost in thought.
That fucking kiss. As corny as it sounded, I was a kiss guy. It didn’t happen very often, but when you slipped your tongue into a woman’s mouth and her taste consumed you—it was better than most sex. Yes, it’s true. I’m a dude, and I think a kiss can be better than getting the rest of my rocks off. The thing is, I’m a thirty-year-old guy. Let’s face it, my hand gets my rocks off. A hole in the wall
would work in a pinch. And not to be a conceited dick, but I’m pretty lucky with the ladies when I want to be. So sex in itself—coming in a pussy, mouth, hand, or wherever it may be—it’s great, but it’s generally pretty ordinary. But a kiss with a woman who’s under your skin? There’s nothing ordinary about that. That shit is unforgettable.
Finishing off my drink, I decided I needed to know if I was the only one who felt that way. So I set my empty glass on the coffee table and called up my contacts. Autumn was first. I didn’t even need to waste time scrolling.
She answered on the second ring. “Hey.”
At risk of sounding like a bigger pussy than the kiss comment probably already made me, her voice sent a shot of warmth through my veins.
“Do you think a kiss can be better than sex?”
“If you’d asked me that a year ago, I probably would have said no.”
I let my head fall back against the back of the couch again, enjoying the moment. “And now?”
“Now I think a kiss can feel like oxygen when I’m unable to breathe.”
I smiled. “Are you alone?”
“I am.”
“Where’s The Dick?”
“He dropped me off at my apartment.”
“Is that what he wanted?”
She sighed. “It’s what I wanted.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I’m not in the habit of sticking my tongue down the throat of two men in one day.”
We were both quiet for a while. Eventually, I said, “That was some damn kiss.” When she didn’t respond, I prodded, “Wasn’t it?”
“Yes, but it was also wrong.”
“It didn’t feel wrong to me.”
“I was there with another man, Donovan.”
“Who you have an open relationship with and don’t even like very much.”
“Who said I don’t like Blake very much?”
“I just did. Can you really tell me you’re into him?”
She was quiet again for a while. When she spoke, her voice was soft. “It’s not that I don’t like him. He’s very nice, and he’s intelligent. We have good conversation.”
