by Crowe, Liz
He grimaced and took a bite of the amazing, rich, cheesy concoction she’d conjured out of his pantry. She glared at him, tapping her long finger on the table. Mo stood a stunning, thin five-foot nine-inches and boasted an athletic body and a temper hot enough to rival her brother’s. “Stop stalling and answer me. What did you do?”
“Look, Mo, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Tough shit. Can you salvage it? Seems to me it might be worth the effort.”
He sighed and put his chin in his hand, mentally replaying his brief talk with Sara today. Dear God, he missed her. Wished every single day for that one moment back, where he didn’t say, “You’re right.” In his fantasy, he said something like, “You’re wrong. Those condoms are from another life. The one I lived before I found you. I love you. Please don’t leave.”
“Sweetie.” Mo patted his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, my fault. End of story.”
“But, maybe if—”
He held up a hand. “No. Discussion over.” She glared at him then, to his surprise, stood and brought a chair closer, sitting so their knees touched and grabbing both of his hands.
“Cut the shit, John Patrick. You are completely miserable. I’ve never seen you like this.” He tried to pull his hand out of her grip. “Get her back. I don’t care what you did. Surely you can fix it?”
“Not likely.” He looked away. She grabbed his chin, turning him to face her. Their matching blue eyes clashed. She smiled.
“I don’t believe that for a minute. Try. You need her. I don’t even know her and I want her for you.”
“All right. Enough, ya bossy bitch. Go eat your food. Those spawn of yours need to eat, too.”
She stood, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t screw this one up this time, brother. I think it’s the real deal. And that Heather?” She made a dismissive sound. “Don’t like her. Get rid of her.”
“Yes’m.” He grinned into his beer. “I’ll get right on that for you.”
“Oh, fuck you, you pompous asshole.”
“So dainty. Do you kiss my friend with that mouth?” When she’d informed him that his best friend from high school had knocked her up—with twins—while they were in college, that she’d be leaving school, marrying him, and moving to married housing on his Air Force base, Jack had been, in word, apoplectic. But it had worked out fine, he could now see. And he was happy for them both.
“Yep, among other things.” She put her chin on her hands and batted her eyes at him. He groaned.
“Ick. Spare me.” They both jumped up at the sound of a crash and a loud cry. Jack took the steps two at a time, grabbed his niece from the slippery floor, holding her close, wrapping her in a towel and soothing her, loving the opportunity to be loved, unconditionally, for the sheer comfort he could provide. The sounds of Mo berating the girl’s brother for shoving her out of the tub made him smile—and miss Sara even more.
Chapter Nine
Sara leaned out onto the balcony rail and admired the view of Ann Arbor from Craig’s condo. She smelled the steaks on the grill, heard the music streaming from one small speaker while he whistled along with it, putting their dinner together. She squirmed, uneasy, mad at herself. She fully intended to put a stop to this before it went any further, before she entangled him any deeper in her stupid melodrama. She’d practiced her little speech on the way over here.
“I’m sorry Craig. You’re an amazing man, a fabulous lover, a kind and generous person. Which is why we can’t be together. Because, you see, I’m only using you to get over Jack. I know that. You know that. And it’s not fair to either us.”
“Can I pour you a glass?” She smiled as Craig approached with the wine bottle. Her friend. Her amazingly hot, blonde, tan, gorgeous, romantic friend with an absolute proven ability to please. Her heart pounded with advance remorse, but also with anticipation—the anticipation of leaving here and driving straight to Burns Park and into Jack’s life again.
As if reading her thoughts, he grabbed her hand and pulled her inside. Once they hit the kitchen, he spun her around so she was leaning against the huge granite island and laid a tongue-tangling kiss on her. She tried not to react, to drag those break-up words around to the front of her brain and say them. But he was so…hot. Besides, Jack didn’t want her. He had someone else now. Why shouldn’t she?
Craig broke their contact and grabbed her around the waist to lift her onto the island. She smiled to herself as he unzipped her jeans, pulled them and her panties down and tossed them both aside.
“Um, Craig, I think something is burning.” She tapped him on the shoulder as he pulled her knees apart.
“What?” he muttered. “Oh, shit.”
He left her to rescue the potatoes before they were ruined. Then flipped the oven off and walked the few steps back to where she sat perched on the island, naked from the waist down.
Stop. Remember, Sara? Don’t take this any further. It will only hurt him and he doesn’t deserve that.
He smiled at her and leaned on the counter, running a finger from her lips, down her neck, to her t-shirt until he reached the bottom of it and lifted it up and over her head.
Oh, well, maybe after just one more time.
She giggled, mentally scolding herself, and raised her arms up so he could take it off, exposing her bare breasts.
“Nice,” he said as he leaned in to them.
“Mmm, no, that’s nice,” she muttered as she wound her hands in his hair again. She pulled him around the corner of the island so he was once again between her legs and wrapped both legs around him to hold him close. He ran his hands down her neck to her shoulders.
“God, you are gorgeous, you know that?” he said as he switched from one nipple to another. Her skin heated up, as his lips and tongue drew a wet line from her breasts, down her stomach to her navel. She gasped at the sensation as he dipped his tongue in there, and then continued downward.
He stood up suddenly and reached behind her to move the tray of bread aside.
“Lie back, Sara, right here,” he told her before he kissed her again, leaving her breathless. “I want to make you come,” he declared as he pulled her toward his mouth.
She leaned back on her elbows and bent one knee up placing her foot on the chilly granite counter. She stared at him as he lunged up between her legs, moving toward her lips once more to caress her with his mouth and tongue.
Breaking their contact, he fluttered over her nipples and the pebbled skin of her stomach before finally settling himself between her legs.
“Oh, God,” Sara cried out at the touch of his lips to her exposed sex. She propped both feet on his back, letting her body relax as her hips thrust against his mouth, grateful more than ever that she no longer had to fake her reaction.
Making a satisfied sound deep in his throat, he took a moment to lick and nibble the insides of each thigh.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered as she laid back onto the counter, her legs draped over his shoulders.
He didn’t stop. She raised her hips so he didn’t have to crouch to reach her and gave in to the orgasm as it rolled over her. Craig stood up, something in his eyes she’d never seen before as she shivered from the climax.
“Well, you said you wanted me to come,” she said, the granite starting to chill her back.
Craig watched her, willing his body not to respond. He wanted this to be a slow night of pleasure and that meant waiting on his part. His plan to drive “friends,” “benefits,” and most especially “Jack Gordon” out of her mind and life forever had shifted into overdrive.
“Okay, let’s eat,” he said and started to grab her hand to pull her up.
“Wait, wait, let me just lie here a minute,” she muttered, propped up on her elbows to watch him. “You know what, I think it’s your turn, lover boy,” she said, her eyes hooded. She smiled at him and licked her lips. “Take it out.”
Craig raised an eyebrow at her. She looked devastating, lying the
re on the kitchen island, completely naked, one leg still bent at the knee, the other swinging in anticipation. He sighed and realized that he would not be the one in control tonight, or very possibly, ever.
He released his aching shaft from its denim bondage. Keeping their distance, he started to rub himself from base to tip, eyes fixed on hers.
“Nice,” she said. “Keep going. Like you mean it.”
He took a step back to lean against the wall to brace himself. Willing to give her a show if she wanted, as long as he got to watch, too.
“Touch yourself, Sara,” he said from across the room. “Show me.”
She climbed down and started toward him.
“No.” He held a hand up and stood up straighter. “Stay there. Show me more.”
She shrugged and leaned back again. Craig settled back against the wall and watched her, imagining her enveloping him, holding him tight. He increased his hand speed as the comfortable, familiar energy surge of his orgasm overtook him.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them and stared at her. She smiled and jumped down from the island, covered the distance between them in two steps, and pressed her lips over his.
“Mmm,” he muttered when she ended their kiss, biting back something stupid, something that gave away how much his chest constricted when he held her close. “Fun. But now I’m really hungry.” He grinned at her, pushed his hair up off his forehead, and zipped his jeans back up. “Need a new shirt, though,” he said as he pulled the now messy one off and headed into the bedroom.
He hesitated for a minute and stared in the mirror in the bathroom, reminding himself to take it easy, not to get too attached to her. He knew she had a long way to go before Gordon was out of her system and that her brave words about “just needing a friend” might be true now, but he had plans to change that, ones that required patience on his part.
He squared his shoulders and walked back out into the living room and into the kitchen. She leaned against the island, sipping her wine. He had to bite his tongue once again to keep from picking her up and carrying her into the bedroom.
“Yo. You letting the steaks burn or what?” he hollered, grabbing a beer and fixing a smile on his face.
“Raw food takes one look at me and burns, and I don’t mean that as a compliment. I am a rotten cook, hate the thought of it, and rely heavily on the men in my life to keep me from starving to death,” she tossed over her shoulder before going out on the patio to poke at the slabs of beef he’d laid on the grill, wine glass still in hand. By the time he reached her, tears were streaming down her face.
“Whoa, whoa there, sweets. You forget my rule already? Women don’t cry over me.” He put an arm around her shoulder and acknowledged that this whole thing might be harder than he thought.
Sara lay awake, listening to the night sounds of Craig’s condo, including the deep inhalation and exhalation of the man next to her. She put a hand over her eyes.
You are such a shit. You said you wouldn’t do this to him.
She sat, holding the soft blanket to her breasts, breathing shallow.
No need to panic. Wake him up and tell him. Tell him you’re leaving and never coming back. Do it now, Sara, before it’s too late.
A hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back down into the warm nest of bedding. She smelled his cologne, the pool, their combined passion when he pulled her close from behind. “Lie down. I’ve got you.”
She closed her eyes, allowing herself a minute of calm before easing out from under his arm. He propped himself on an elbow and blinked in the light of the bedside lamp. “What time is it?” He rolled onto his back, his lovely, slim, naked form exposed. She bit her lip.
“It’s around four, I think. I gotta go.” She yanked her jeans on and shoved her arms into her t-shirt, fury rising at her own stupid behavior. He watched her, arms behind his head. Finally, after a few minutes of silence she stuck her feet into her sandals and stared at him.
Speak, Sara. You owe it to him.
“Look, Craig, I’m not—” She held up a hand as he started to get out of bed. “No, don’t.”
“Gotta take a leak, sorry. I’m listening.” She sank into a soft leather chair. He emerged from the bathroom, drying his hands, dressed in a pair of shorts, then sat at the end of the bed, elbows on knees, gazing at her.
She took a deep breath. “I’m not who you need me to be right now.”
He raised an eyebrow. “It was my understanding that you were my friend. Are you not that anymore?” She sighed and rubbed her eyes.
“No. I mean, yes. I am your friend, but, this...” She made a circling motion with her finger. “All this between us now has to stop.”
“Why? You don’t like it?” He leaned back. She frowned at him.
“Don’t ask me rhetorical questions. You know I like it. That’s not the issue.” She stood. “I’m going home.”
He stood, put a hand on her arm, his touch firm and confident. “Don’t go.” She stared down at his arm then into his eyes before pulling out of his grip. She had a hand on the cold chrome door handle when he spoke, making her heart leap into her throat. “You really are going to let him keep you from finding happiness, aren’t you?”
She clenched her jaw, turned slowly, and leaned back against door, staring at him. He stood across the dimly lit room. Odors of grilled meat, exhaust from the street below, and the ever-present chlorine filled her senses. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? You think you have me figured out, do you? Got all the answers I need?”
He shrugged, crossed his arms. “No, I never said that. Don’t put words in my mouth.”
She sighed and looked up at the ceiling. The need to escape overwhelmed her. She couldn’t face this right now.
“Go on. I’ll catch you later.” He threw up his hands and started back into the bedroom.
“No, Craig, wait. I’m sorry. You don’t deserve all my bullshit. That’s why I’m leaving. Can’t you get that?” He stopped, put both hands on the doorjamb, and hung his head.
“Fine, Sara. Then go. Spare me all your bullshit. Thanks in advance.” Without looking back, he went into the bedroom and shut the door.
Chapter Ten
“So, where is he, this Prince Charming?” Rob asked. “Blake is walking around making wedding plans already, so I guess I need to meet him.”
Sara shot Blake a pointed look. He shrugged. She stifled her impulse to smack him and confront him with his own relationship problems. She didn’t want to cause a scene but he’d be hearing from her about it very soon.
“He’s not coming. And he’s just a friend anyway so cool your matrimonial jets.”
“Really? I thought that was him over there.” Blake jerked his chin toward the door. It didn’t escape her notice that he and Rob stayed on opposite sides of the bar and wouldn’t meet each other’s eyes.
She felt Craig’s hand on her shoulder before she had a chance to turn and see him. She tensed a moment, then forced herself to relax and smiled at him.
“Hi guys. I’m Craig, Sara’s friend.” He stuck out his hand.
“That’s right, Rob. Friends. So keep commentary to a minimum, please,” she said.
Her surprise faded to relief that Craig had showed up for this long-ago planned double date with Blake and Rob.
She didn’t have it in her to explain the odd turn things had taken lately. She and Jack had reverted to a sort of nightly check-in call about their deal, just as they’d done the year before. The difference this time marked a sea change in their relationship. It was beyond strange but it seemed as long as they remained physically separate, they communicated beautifully.
She actually looked forward to their nightly chats, snuggled under the covers, phone cradled to her ear as she noodled around on her social media accounts. The conversations reminded her of their first long email exchange, the week after she’d been attacked at a showing and he’d insisted she stay at his place but she’d run out in fury after readin
g texts from an old girlfriend on his phone.
* * *
“So. Talk to me about your brother,” he said a few nights ago.
“Tell you what,” she’d responded. “Talk to me about your sister first. I mean, thanks to your old friend Rob you probably know plenty about Blake already.”
“Fair, fair. Okay. Maureen, we call her Mo. She’s pretty amazing. She’s married to my old high school friend, Brandis. He’s a pilot in the Air Force. They have twins, Adam and Ella. Great kids.”
“Yes, I remember hearing them in the background once, ‘Uncle Jack.’”
He chuckled. The sound of it had made her shiver. She shut her eyes, determined to keep talking, to really get to know him but at a distance. So they wouldn’t fall into their usual roll in the sack, fight, ignore each other routine. Because she did like him. A lot. And she believed that he felt the same about her but was similarly conflicted about it.
“I like kids,” he said.
She blinked fast and closed her laptop, pondering this statement and what, exactly, he expected her to say.
“I’m not a fan, really. I mean, I know my clock is ticking and all that but…I don’t know. I didn’t babysit when I was younger or anything. Kids are kind of gross.” But despite her protests, she put a hand on her perfectly flat stomach, pondering what it might be like to carry Jack’s baby.
Insanity. Pure and simple. She was flat out losing it.
She shook her had to clear it.
“Well, I like them.”
“Well, go get yourself one then.” She wasn’t sure why she was being so defensive. But why in the world were they talking about this anyway?
“I hear it’s kind of fun making one.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” She slid further down between the sheets.
“Anyway, I still think it’s whack that your brother ended up with my friend, don’t you?”
