by BJ Harvey
We stare at each other, desire as clear as day passing between us.
“I have another question for you…” I say before downing the rest of my drink.
“Okay,” she replies, taking another slow, dragged-out sip through her straw. Her sly grin tells me she knows exactly the effect she’s having on me and the images she’s conjuring up in my head.
“Do you have anything else you want to know about me before I pay the tab and take you to your bed?”
“One more,” she says, slowly shifting back and sitting up straight, pulling her leg back. “You understand this is sex and just sex. I don’t have time for anything else and this situation…” she waves her hand between us, “…is complicated enough without over-complicating it.”
I can’t help but smirk. It’s an ‘I’m gonna get me some’ look that she doesn’t miss. “You sure you don’t want to marry me? I swear you’re the perfect woman wrapped up in satin and lace.”
She throws her head back and laughs, and I nearly embarrass myself like a virgin teenager then and there. “I’ll have to regretfully decline your marriage proposal. But good to know you’re thinking about getting me naked as much as I am.”
My arm shoots up in the air, getting the bartender’s attention immediately. “Check, please.”
Ten minutes later, I’m leading Gillian Nelson into the thankfully empty elevator with my hand resting on the small of her back. By the time the doors close and we’re moving up to the twentieth floor, her back is to the wall, I’m holding her wrists high above her head, and I’m slamming my mouth down onto hers, her lips parting and her tongue meeting me halfway in the hottest kiss I’ve had in my life.
When the elevator opens again, I grab hold of her hand and near-on drag her along the corridor. At her door, I crowd her from behind, pushing my hips against her ass as I kiss her neck and collarbone, trailing my tongue over her sensitive skin. One hand cups her breast and the other dips underneath her scandalous skirt to trace those lace-topped stockings she’s wearing that have tortured me ever since I first saw them.
Her breathing is as heavy as mine, and when she fumbles with the key card, I cover her hand with mine, and together we slide it in the slot and open the door. She spins around in my arms and kisses me again, dropping her purse on the floor before looping her arms around my neck and walking backward into the room.
“Wait,” she says, lowering herself back onto her feet. I freeze, resting my hands on her hips, fully prepared to stop everything, and walk back out the door if that’s what she wants.
“Hey, if you’ve changed your mi—”
Her eyes widen. “Oh, no. There’s only one place we’re going, and that’s the bed over there. Maybe the shower. Or against the window,” she says, her knowing grin growing when I drop my head forward and groan.
“Thank fuck.”
“Oh, you will be thanking me. But first…” She reaches for the desk beside the wall, and moving past me, she opens the door for a moment, slides the do not disturb sign in place, then closes it again, locking it for extra measure.
She turns around and meets my gaze. Grabbing hold of her dress, she drags it up and over her head, so she’s left in a red satin bra, matching underwear, the garter, and stockings. She’s every man’s wet dream standing there waiting for me to take her, and that’s precisely what I plan to do.
I close the distance between us, my hands going to her shoulders and slowly smoothing down over her chest and sides before my fingers dip under the material at her hips. She lifts onto her toes and brushes her lips against mine. “I hung out the do not disturb sign.” She presses her body into mine. “I have plans for you, Ezra Baker, and I don’t want any interruptions. If this is a one-time deal, I’m going to take everything you’ve got to give, and then I’m going to give it all back to you.”
A growl rumbles in my chest. I grab the back of her head and pin her in place as I ravage her mouth.
The rest of the night is off the charts. Neither one of us holds back. She comes four times to my two, and by the time the sun is rising through the floor-to-ceiling windows, we are both barely able to keep our eyes open.
“We should do this again sometime,” she murmurs sleepily against my chest.
“Mm-hmm.”
And that’s exactly what we do. For eight very enjoyable, satisfying months.
Until the universe decides to throw one hell of a spanner in the works.
Gilly
I sit in my car, white-knuckling the steering wheel as I look out the windshield and up at the three-flat building where my younger sister, Ronnie, and her sister-in-law, Faith, are holding their joint baby shower—an event I’m officially an hour late for.
That’s because I’ve been parked here for twenty minutes trying to motivate myself to open the driver’s door and walk inside.
At thirty-five years old, I’ve achieved a lot. I’m an equity partner in my father’s law firm, and I own my two-story brownstone. Yet it’s my little sister who’s married and due to have her first baby in the next few months.
Then there’s me—I work too much, I barely have time to see family and friends, I’ve never been married, I have no children, and my longest relationship is more of a casual, monogamous arrangement than anything else.
It wasn’t until recently that I realized I might appear to have everything, but maybe it’s not what I want. I’ve got nothing of meaning. Money is good, career success is satisfying, but neither will warm my bed at night, listen to me complain when my tyrant of a father and Stepford-wife mother try to set me up with their latest merger project, or just be there for me. If I was to—heaven forbid—be hit by a Mack truck tomorrow, my tombstone would read “Lawyer, daughter, sister, friend.” That’s it, and I was happy with that—until I wasn’t.
I’d expected my thirty-fifth birthday last weekend to be the catalyst, to be the milestone to flick a switch in me—maybe kick start a ‘you’re no longer early thirties and closer to forty’ crisis, but that didn’t happen. Probably because I was too busy working myself into the ground and forgetting that the universe will always have the last laugh.
My phone chimes from the passenger seat, Ronnie’s name flashing up on screen.
Ronnie—Co and Skye thought they saw your car parked outside. Everyone else is here.
Great! Just what I didn’t need to know.
Ronnie officially became a Cook eight months ago in Vegas when she was married to Jax by Elvis, but she’s been a part of the family ever since her childhood best friend, April hooked up with the oldest Cook brother, Jamie. It’s not the first time I’ve been around everyone. It’s not even the first time I’ve been to a family event with the parents, brothers, wives, partners, and friends for an end-of-house flip celebration, let alone an important celebration like today’s baby shower.
I shouldn’t be nervous. I’ve stood in front of a full courtroom and won life-changing cases. I’ve sat in and negotiated millions of dollars in contentious business deals. Hell, I stood up to my father and demanded he make me an equity partner not eighteen months ago. If I can do all of that, I can get out of my steel cocoon of a car, paint on a smile, and get through the next few hours.
Me—Yeah. Coming up now.
Ronnie—Everything okay?
Me—Today is about you, Ronnie-Bear. Tomorrow, you can interrogate me as much as you like.
Something tells me it’ll be more like a Spanish inquisition.
Ronnie—I’ll hold you to that.
Me—And the huge grin on my face right now is because I know that to be true.
Ronnie—How about you come inside so I can see that smile for myself? Then you can feel your niece or nephew kicking the ever-loving shiz out of my biz.
Me—Why didn’t you lead with THAT? On my way!
Ronnie—By the way, Ezra is here. Maybe you could ask him out on that date I keep hounding you about.
And here begins the roller-coaster known as the biggest charade I’ve ever carried ou
t in my life—hiding from my sister that Jax’s brother—of the heart, not blood—has been taking very good care of me ever since the night before her wedding. I’m certain she doesn’t know about it because for the past eight months—since she’s been deliriously happy—Ronnie has made it her mission to try and set me up with Ezra. She’s been playing both sides too, whispering in all of the brothers’ ears about how great Ezra and I would be together, and how awesome it would be to have her sister dating the last remaining single man in the group.
When Ez shot her down, she tried conspiring with Skye, Cohen’s work partner—now partner-in-life—to set me up with one of her three single Italian brothers too, which is when I put my foot down and promised her I was perfectly fine with being single.
I just didn’t tell her that one of the reasons I’m currently okay with it is because Ezra has been keeping me more than satisfied three or four times a week. I work hard, then Ezra makes sure I come hard. Rinse and repeat.
Ronnie—Look up to the second-floor window and see my face, Gilly-Bear.
I do as ordered, meeting the menacing eyes of my sister, who points at me and mouths, “Get out, now.”
I grin and type one last message.
Me—You’ve got that angry mama look perfected already.
Ronnie—Get your ass out of your car, or I’ll have to send Jax down to carry you out.
Me—Yeah, yeah. I’m coming.
Taking one last look in the rear-view mirror, I give my non-existent baby belly a small pat. “Here goes nothing, little plot twist,” I whisper before dropping my phone in my purse, grabbing the gift bag from the back seat with all the presents, and opening the car door.
One thing is for sure—this is going to be a day for the ages.
Walking into the party, I sense Ezra before I see him, my eyes obviously having a homing beacon when it comes to this man. He smiles briefly before turning back towards his parents, who are standing beside him.
“Gilly!” Ronnie says as I get close, rushing up and wrapping her arms around me for a hug. When she pulls away, her gaze is full of amusement. “Glad you could finally join us.”
“Well, you know, I like the inside of my car. I wanted to savor the experience for a while.”
Jax comes up beside us, leaning in to kiss my cheek. “Hey, Gilly. Long time no see.”
I grin at him. It was only yesterday I was sitting cross-legged on his living room floor, putting together baby shower decorations for today. “Twenty-four hours is so long.”
“Lives can change in twenty-four hours.” He steps back and wraps his arm around my sister’s waist. “I went from an innocent virgin to a married man in less.”
Ronnie snorts. “You were far from virtuous, Mr. Cook. In fact, it was you who proposed to me naked.”
“You were naked too.”
She beams up at him. “Only because you made me that way.”
“As it should be. You…” He dips his head and brushes his lips against hers. “Naked. All the time.”
I chuckle. “And look where that belief got you,” I say, gently rubbing Ronnie’s round stomach. It’s scary to think that’s going to be me in seven months. At least I can steal all of my sister’s maternity clothes—not that she knows that yet. Nobody does.
“Let me go grab you a drink,” Jax says. “Jamie wants to get the formalities out of the way before we all succumb to baby fever.”
I shake my head. “It’s okay. I should really do the rounds and say hello to everyone. You look after the precious cargo here, and I’ll find my own refreshment.”
A soft look transforms my brother-in-law’s face, and I take that as my cue to leave.
Backtracking to the kitchen, I say hello to every member of the Cook family I pass, including the brothers’ parents.
I try to put Ezra out of my mind for the moment—at least until the baby shower part of today is over because it’s Ronnie and Faith’s day.
Tonight, I’ll meet him for dinner, and then we’ll talk about where we go from here. It’s not that there is an us to consider. We’ve been on the same page in that regard since that first night together back in Vegas. However, there has to be a discussion about how exactly we’re going to move forward.
A bottle of cold water from the refrigerator in my hand, I turn around and lean against the kitchen counter.
When eight-year-old Axel yells, “Quiet everybody,” the room falls silent except for his mother’s giggle. Jamie glances down at his son and quirks a brow. Realization dawns on the boy, and he quickly adds a “please” to his request, earning a round of soft laughter. He’s the type of rambunctious little boy I can imagine having, especially if Ezra’s genes are dominant.
“Thanks, Ax,” Jamie says, moving to the front of the crowd to face everyone. “Today is a little different. Ronnie and Faith have graciously let us crash their shower so we can officially sign off on this baby ahead of the upcoming arrival of the next two members of our family. So, Cohen, do you want to come take care of this light bulb so we can get back to the festivities?”
“How about you do it, and we’ll say I did,” the youngest Cook muses, Skye tucked into his side. Axel jumps up and down with his hand in the air. “Oh, oh, oh, Daddy, pick me.”
Jamie looks at his son, but before he can answer, Jax’s twin brother Bryant swoops in and picks Axel up, holding out his hand to take the light bulb from Jamie. Then, with a lift and a little instruction from Jax and Jamie, Axel shouts out, “I did it,” making us all laugh again.
The guys lower him back to the ground, and Jamie continues talking. My attention is elsewhere though because while watching the traditional Cook ‘end of flip’ tradition, I miss Ezra teleporting across the room from where I last saw him to standing right next to me.
Beer bottle in hand, he stands beside me, arm brushing against mine as he leans his hips against the cupboards. “Hey,” he says.
I turn my head and tilt my chin to meet his gaze.
“Hi.” My voice sounds normal, but my stomach is in knots. He gives me that half-grin of his that usually has me trying to get him in bed on top of me—or vice versa. This time, I drag my eyes away and try to hide what a hot mess I am. This isn’t me. I’m usually cool as a cucumber. I’m the unflappable one who can face anything.
He’s Ezra; I’ve seen him naked. Even standing next to him in a room full of his family and friends isn’t new for us. Except I’ve never done that knowing I’m about to turn his life upside down.
“Is it my imagination, or have you been quiet this week?” he says before lifting his beer bottle to his mouth.
“A bit of both,” I hedge, trying to school my breathing by focusing on whatever is being said at the front of the room.
“So today, we finish step one of our biggest flip yet, and come Monday week, we’ll start working on our next project, which will be Skye’s apartment upstairs,” Jamie says, looking toward Cohen and Skye. “While that is happening, Skye will be moving down here starting tomorrow—isn’t that right?”
Cohen steps away from his girlfriend and faces her. “So, about that…”
“What are you up to, Cass?” Skye asks, scrunching up her nose.
“Wait for it…” Ez murmurs beside me. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch him leaning in and down. “I bet you breakfast in bed she’s about to hurt him.”
My head jerks back, and I turn to look at him, not thinking about how close that brings me to his lips, definitely forgetting how impossible it is for me to be around him and not want to do all the things we do to each other when we’re alone.
My eyes widen, and I quickly shuffle sideways to put some much-needed distance between us.
“I was thinking Skye and I could both move in here,” Cohen announces. My mouth drops open, and I swivel back to look at Ez, no doubt resembling one of those clown sideshow games at a carnival. I spin back to watch this play out.
“Two for the price of one then?” Jamie asks with a slow-growing smirk.
&nb
sp; “Here we go. She’s gonna let Co have it—”
“Um, hello,” Skye says, reaching for Cohen’s arm. “Do you want to maybe ask me before telling the world we’re going to be roommates? We need to discuss house rules, splitting utilities, driving privileges.”
Ronnie and April gasp, as does the guys’ mom, Marcy, as Cohen hooks an arm around Skye’s waist and tugs her hard against him.
“You want to move in with me, brat?”
“Do you want to move in with me, Cass?” she shoots back.
“Thought you’d never ask.” Then Cohen pulls Skye’s head forward, and they’re kissing like they don’t need air—just each other.
A hand on the small of my back grabs my attention. “You want to tell me why you’ve been quiet this week, Counselor?”
“What?” I ask, hedging my bets and hoping he won’t push the issue.
“You’re a shit liar, Gilly. I just wanted to check everything was alright between us. It’s not like us not to—”
“Stop kissing my girlfriend, Uncle Cohen. Jeez, what’s a boy got to do around here to get a little respect?” Axel huffs, and the room fills with laughter.
“Not to what?” I stage whisper. “Fuck? Screw? Jump each other’s bones on sight?” My voice gets rougher with every word. I know I’m not being fair to him, but I’m barely managing to hold myself together as panic, fear, and confusion all collide into one ball of overwhelming—no doubt hormone-induced—emotion.
Ezra’s eyes bug out, and he holds his hands in the air in surrender. “Now I know something’s wrong.”
“Let’s not talk about it here,” I say quietly, plastering a smile on my face that I don’t mean or feel. “I’ve made us a reservation for dinner tonight. We can talk about it then.”
He puts a hand on my arm, applying light pressure until I turn and face him. I tense and, unable to deal with the soft look in his eyes, I bite my lip and stare down at the ground.
“Hey,” he says, cupping my arm and giving it a gentle squeeze. I square my shoulders, bracing myself as I lift my gaze to his before he continues. “I’d like to know now. If I’ve done something wrong, I’d like to—”
