by S. M. West
“I fucked up and was an asshole to leave her and as much as I wanted her back all these years, I’d never break up a marriage.”
Finn snorts and a wry smirk creeps across his face. “Ahh, I think you did contemplate it.” His good-humored tone keeps my stomach from churning at the memory of Pippa’s wedding day.
“Yeah, I try not to think about that,” I say ruefully. “Now she’s leaving the fucknut.”
“Damn straight.” His posture straightens and shoulders broaden as if preparing for war. Ready to face Brock.
“I’m not sure what Pippa wants, but if she’s willing to have me, I’m all in.”
“About fucking time.” He grins, slapping me on the back, and relief washes over me.
“Hey, you boys done smooching?” Tom asks, leaning off the open car door, one foot in and the other still firmly planted on the gravel. “You’ll see each other again. C’mon, Finn, let’s hit the road.”
Tom laughs, slamming the door behind him and we share a quick look of understanding before heading to the car. Pippa waits by the driver’s side of the car, arms open for Finn.
“Bye. We’ll see you soon.” Pippa hugs him before he hops into the driver seat.
“Promise you’ll call if he shows up.” Finn now sticks his head out the window, glaring at Pippa and me. We both nod.
Since Brock’s surprise visit, Finn’s been vigilant, hoping Brock stays away, but prepared to do whatever it takes if he does resurface. But the reality is, if Brock is stupid enough to show his face again, Finn isn’t in a position to do anything about it. By the time he gets up here, it’ll be too late to help. I doubt I’ll be able to restrain myself. We’ll all breathe a little easier once the Rockets are back to the season. Just a few more days.
By now, everyone is in the car. Claire has a textbook perched on her lap, and Tom’s swaying his head and tapping his fingers on the back of Cass’s headrest with his earbuds in.
We wave as we watch the car drive out of sight and now it’s just the two of us. The house is suddenly too quiet, and we stare at each other, lost and nervous. The last time we were alone, I kissed her, and she liked it. I didn’t imagine that. She tightened her grip on my shoulders as our tongues tangled, her sweet, soft moan slipping down my throat.
Damn, this isn’t good. I need to get my mind on something else or we need people around us.
“Want to go out for dinner?” I rub at the back of my neck.
She nods before I can finish my question and we’re seated at a small, local bistro in under fifteen minutes.
Dinner is good and we’re onto dessert when Pippa starts to play with her flourless chocolate cake, raking the tines of her fork through the thick icing. She’s deep in thought and I decide it’s time for the hard questions.
“Are you going to press charges?”
“What?” The fork slips from her fingers.
“Brock.”
“No. I want this done as quickly and quietly as possible.”
“Did he…” I trail off, reaching for her hand resting on the table.
I want answers but I’m not sure if I’m prepared for the truth. The soft warmth of her touch is comforting despite my unease. We stare at each other, and I wish she could read my thoughts so I wouldn’t have to say them out loud.
“Did he what?” She cocks her head to the side.
“Did he—” I stop myself before finishing my thought.
“This is none of your business.” She jerks her hand from mine. “Don’t do this.” She glares, paling by the second as she folds her arms over her chest.
“He deserves to pay for what he did to you.”
There’s a storm brewing inside me. He’s one motherfucking aggressor on the field. It’s not hard to imagine what that could lead to. And his public persona is so incongruent with the truth. Over the years, media headlines have applauded him. America loves him and women throw themselves at him. He will do this again.
“I don’t want a scandal,” she says wearily, averting her gaze. “I want a divorce. If I press charges he won’t cooperate.”
The lawyer in me wants to nail the bastard for what he did and what he could do again. “You’ll get a divorce. It may take longer bu—”
“Drew, he’s a public figure,” she interrupts, pushing her uneaten cake to the center of the table. “He could do more than drag this out.”
“Pip, let me help you.”
“No.” She bangs her clenched fist on the table and the china clatters as many eyes in the restaurant turn our way.
She fidgets nervously, a faint blush creeping up her neck and onto her cheeks as she gazes down at the white linen cloth.
“Sorry.” She looks up with a dark turbulent gaze. “I should speak up. I couldn’t live with myself if another woman was victim to him, and maybe I will at some point, but not now. I want this over.”
I hear the frustration and suppressed shame in her whispery tone and my chest spasms painfully. She has nothing to be ashamed of.
“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push.” I motion to the waiter for the bill. “It’s…”
“You’re a good man. It’s who you are,” she fills in my pause. “And just like me, you don’t want this to happen to someone else.”
“True, but I also want justice for you.”
“But we both know he’s got the media on his side and lots of money. I’ve seriously considered putting it all out there, but he can twist this in a heartbeat and right now, I just want a divorce. I want to get away from him.”
“I get it and no judgment. I’ll help you in any way that I can.”
“You want to help me?” She asks and I nod. “Then take me home. I mean, take me to the cottage.” Her cheeks flush.
Home.
She didn’t say your home. She says home as if it’s hers too.
If only it were our home.
It tugs at a deep, buried hope-filled part of me. Apart from the brief nanosecond when the ink was still wet on the ownership papers, I’ve always thought of the cottage as ours. I’d give her everything, every part of me, everything I own, everything I am, if I had another chance to be with her.
We return to the cottage and end up watching a movie, each of us on a different couch. Throughout it all, she steals surreptitious glances at me and when caught, she offers shy smiles, something I never usually equate with her. Shy. It’s both unsettling and exciting, not knowing what it means.
The movie ends and we sit staring at each other with only the hiss and crackle from the dwindling fire to fill the silence.
“Drew.” Pippa saunters to where I sit on the sofa and flops down beside me, resting her hand on the cushion behind my head.
I quirk an eyebrow and wait expectantly for her next word, her next move. She keeps me hanging as she studies me, wordlessly. Then she twists to face me, tucking her legs under her and pushing onto her knees. Long slender fingers cup my five o’clock shadow and she slides one leg over my thighs to straddle me.
A forgotten but no less exhilarating fluttering starts low in my belly—she is the only one to make me feel this way—and my fingers twitch to touch her.
Bold and sexy. This is the Pippa I know. The woman I’ve been hoping was still inside. And now, she’s here. Come out to play, and I want to see this through, but also war with myself as to whether this is smart. She’s dealing with a lot, most of which I can’t even imagine. Should I see how far this goes or put a stop to it?
She decides for me by lowering her ass onto my hardening groin. Heat flares in her darkening eyes with the glimmer of a smile on her lips. Her hands slide down my face to my neck, tightening her hold, and she places small kisses over my jaw while grinding into me. Swift, tiny kisses that light my insides and quicken my breath.
I ache to touch her.
I need to touch her.
Unfurling my balled fists, my hands dig into her denim-clad thighs and she trembles.
“Drew, I need you,” she moans into my mouth.
<
br /> Pushing her shoulders slightly back, I grip the sides of her head and place my forehead on hers. Her warm, sweet breath mingles with mine and her eyes are glazed and glittering.
“Are you sure?” I croak, my mouth suddenly parched. Praying she wants me to continue but also preparing to stop if that’s what she wants.
“Yes,” she whimpers, slanting her neck to one side to give me unfettered access to the elegant curve of her neck.
I pepper open-mouthed kisses on her tender flesh and grasp her hips to bring her to her feet. With her hand in mine, I’m ready to lead the way upstairs to bed, but she tugs on my hold and flicks her gaze to the open space at the foot of the fireplace.
Damn, this woman. She knows how to undo me without uttering a single word. This room, shit the whole house, is designed based on the countless hours we spent sketching the renovations for this cottage. Our vision.
Her wishes and dreams are everywhere.
The large space in front of the fireplace was for us, like everything else within these four walls. It’s a spot for us to put down a blanket and have sex, cuddle, watch the flames and fall asleep.
Not needing any further encouragement, I make quick work of placing a blanket on the floor while she throws a few cushions down and then we’re standing on either side of the makeshift bed.
She doesn’t wait for me, taking off her jeans, and my bold girl has come out in spades. She’s sexy as fuck. Always is. But more so, as she stands in only a blouse and white panties and her long, toned legs glow, bronze-like, in the fire light.
“What are you waiting for?” She tips her chin in my direction, her eyes on my jeans.
“I’m just making sure you’re paying attention.” I follow suit and strip.
She laughs, her gaze never straying, and in no time flat, I’m also in only my shirt and boxers, bulging, hard as steel. Appreciation sparks in her eyes and liquefies as I yank the shirt over my head, baring my chest. Reciprocating, she removes her blouse and unsnaps her lacy white bra.
Again, not waiting for my move, she’s across the blanket and pressing her body against mine in the blink of an eye. Her full tits rub against me, hard nipples scraping and digging into my pecs. I groan as my eyes roll back into my head and her mouth crashes onto mine.
Her hands go for my boxers and mine for her ass, and in seconds I’m bare as her slender fingers grip my hard length and start to glide up and down my shaft. I’m not going to last long. My hand cups between her legs, over her barely-there panties, and the insubstantial fabric is soaked. I rip my mouth from hers, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, hoping the sting will keep me from coming at the feel of her throbbing heat beneath my palm and what she’s doing to me.
My insane conscience hits when I least expect it. This feels wrong. Not her. Not us. But now. We have so much left unsaid that sex might only mess things up further. Or maybe, clear things up? Fuck, who am I kidding? Sex only complicates things.
Reluctantly pulling away—I’ll fucking regret this—I say, “Pip, I don’t think…”
Lust-filled eyes lock with mine and she growls, digging her fingers into my bare shoulders. “That’s your problem, stop thinking.”
20
Pippa
Kissing Drew is as natural as breathing and as thrilling as a roller coaster ride. We kiss like we can’t stop. Like we never want to stop. We kiss like there is no tomorrow and even if there is a tomorrow, we don’t care.
“I want you so bad,” he murmurs against my parted lips and I nod, feeling the same way.
We’re the only people on this earth and we have no past, present, or future. We are all that matter, and if I don’t have him inside me, soon, I swear I might die. Nose to nose, eyes heavy-lidded, lips parted, his erection slides against my sex.
He guides the tip of his swollen cock to my entrance and I arch my back, spreading my legs wider as he slides into me. Our eyes flutter closed, both of us releasing an ecstatic stutter, and I want to cry at how good he feels, at how unbelievable it is to have Drew again. I thought this wasn’t possible and yet here we are.
My core clenches around his pulsing girth and with that one squeeze, he starts to move, driving into me as deep, as hard, and as fast as he can go.
“Oh god, Drew.”
A shudder rolls through my body and I’m surprised at how fast I’m there. At the brink of bliss and ready to fall, and he’s right there with me. I feel it in his taut body and my core spasms around him, milking him so hard that he shudders, exhaling a jagged groan. “I love you, Pip.”
His head drops to the crook of my neck and his arms wrap around me, and I do the same with my nails digging into his back. My declaration of love perches on the tip of my tongue. It’s a living and breathing thing. Vibrating, consuming me, but I can’t bring myself to say those three words.
He kisses my bare shoulder as his cock jerks inside me one final time. “Pip, you destroy me.”
We fall asleep in front of the fireplace and hours later, I wake in Drew’s bed with the smell of coffee in the air. His side of the bed is empty, but somewhat warm, so he hasn’t been gone long.
Turning to face his side of the bed, I pull his pillow into me, hugging it close, and close my eyes. I’d forgotten or misremembered—is that a word?—what it was like to be with Drew. Right. Easy. Perfect.
And somehow or someway, I’d mixed things up. When I had first gotten together with Brock, I’d told myself that he and Drew were in the same league. Our memories can be wild and illusive, playing tricks on the mind and the heart. Brock is nothing like Drew.
Last night was perfection. I’d only ever felt that kind of completion with one man.
Drew.
From the age of fourteen, I believed Drew was my soulmate. Even as he resisted me and we went our separate ways, I was never far from Drew. I was meant to be his. He was meant to be mine.
Through the years, I’d forgotten. I’d forgotten so many things. Forgotten the truth of us. Or maybe it wasn’t forgetting, but not wanting to remember. Until last night.
It was meant to be sex. Only sex. I hadn’t counted on my fearlessness. I felt like myself again. Strong, sexy and in charge. And I freaking loved it. Every single moment with him. And like the ferocity of a lion’s roar, how good we were together shook me to my bones.
I don’t know what we’re doing and truth be told, I don’t want to dig too deep. Because even when things feel right, as if I’m where I belong, it doesn’t mean it should be or that it will last.
My eyes open and where his pillow once lay, there’s a rolled-up piece of maroon clothing. I unravel the bundle, curious. It’s a t-shirt with white lettering that spells out my university. My shirt.
I thought I’d lost it years ago and had lamented the loss. Meanwhile, all this time, Drew had it and for some reason, tucked it under his pillow. Why? Did he want me close to him?
The bedroom door swings open, and he enters with coffees to see the shirt lying on the bed and his cheeks redden. I’m unable to resist a laugh at his expense.
His eyes glitter and an easy, relaxed smile crawls across his mouth. I love his smile. I’ve loved his smile before I even knew what love was.
“Busted.” Placing our coffees on the side table, he crawls into bed.
“Do you know how long I searched for this? I even had my mom look through my things in the basement.” I hit his chest lightly with the shirt.
“What can I say? Guilty.” He snatches the tee and holds it to his nose. “It used to smell like you.”
His words spark an urgent quiver in my belly and ache in my chest. I have one of his hoodies and I used to sleep with it for the same reason. I cried the day it lost his scent.
Heavy-lidded, he takes in my lips, his gaze roaming down to my toes and up again, and all the while, my body thrums. Heat flares in my core and spreads between my legs like wildfire.
“Let’s see if it still fits.” Flashing a cocky grin, he shakes the shirt out and playfully tugs at the sheet dr
aped over my chest.
A sly smile creeps across my lips and I sit up, letting the white sheet slide down to pool at my waist.
“Let’s see,” I tease, reaching for the shirt.
Now pushing back onto his feet, he tosses my tee to the foot of the bed, deliberately out of my reach, with a naughty grin.
“Nah, on second thought, naked is much better.”
His eyes settle longingly on my chest as one hand reaches behind his neck for the collar of his grungy black tee, hugging his broad shoulders and muscled chest. In a blink, the shirt is whipped over his head and onto the floor, followed by his shorts.
He’s gloriously hard and naked, and I lick my lips, all worries fleeing my mind. All I want is him and something loosens inside of me. There may be nothing in store for us beyond right now, and that’s more than I ever dreamed we’d have. This is a chance to make new memories and mend our friendship.
In a flash, he’s in bed and we’re a tangle of arms, legs, lips, teeth, and tongues, igniting an entire box of firecrackers. Sparks fly, fire flares, and we cling to each other, climaxing, falling and euphoric.
For dinner, Drew grills steaks and vegetables on the barbecue while I sauté onions and mushrooms.
“Brrr, it’s starting to snow.” He rubs his arms vigorously and the clean scent of a fresh snowfall infuses the air.
“Are we supposed to get a lot?”
I glance through the glass at the black placid lake and dark, shadowy woods. The glow of the dim deck light illuminates the white blanket of snow sweeping across the land.
“I don’t think so.”
He brings a glass of red wine to his lips and my phone vibrates on the counter. The name Riggs lights up on my screen and with a few clicks, I read his text. All the while, Drew stares.
“Riggs?”
“He’s a friend,” I start but stop realizing Drew knows of him. Riggs talked to Paige but it was Drew who came to LA.
“Yeah, I know. What’s up?” Stepping in beside me to stand shoulder to shoulder at the stove, he stirs the caramelized vegetables.
