Finished

by Claire Kent

  Keeping her face and voice bland, she replied, “I haven’t been skydiving lately, if that’s what you mean.”

  “It’s not.”

  Julia wasn’t particularly uncomfortable, although she’d prefer to be talking to someone less obnoxiously slick and entitled. She’d had plenty of experience in dealing with men like Dom, and she couldn’t even be surprised that he so blithely assumed she’d be receptive to his advances.

  She had been a part of a threesome for more than a year, and, no matter how discreet she’d tried to be about her lifestyle, a lot of people would assume it meant she was sexually free. Available. Easy.

  No matter how untrue it was—even back when she’d lived with Mike and Drayton. And no matter how much had changed in her life since then.

  “I’m really pretty boring,” she said.

  “I don’t believe you.” He leaned down, his face so close to hers, she could feel his breath on her cheek. He smelled strongly of aftershave. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was too much.

  “Believe it.” Since it would be impolitic to actually push him away, she edged to the side slightly, giving herself some more space. “And I have no desire to look for excitement outside of home.”

  Dom frowned. “So you’ve converted to traditional domesticity?”

  Chuckling, she admitted, “Something like that.” With a lift of her eyebrows, she added, “And my husband is more than enough for me.”

  She’d gotten through to him. She could see it. And, although he was obnoxiously slick and smarmy, he wouldn’t pursue a woman who wasn’t interested in him. He looked annoyed and briefly uncomfortable, the way men like him looked when they inexplicably didn’t get their own way. “That’s too bad. You’re missing out,” he said at last, reclaiming his sense of entitled assurance.

  She smiled and pushed her hair out of her eyes. She’d let her bob grow longer, almost to her shoulders now. “Then I’ll have to live unfulfilled.”

  She was about to slide out from the barrier of his body, pleased with her success in handling the man, when she heard a familiar throat-clearing behind Dom’s shoulder.

  Then, “Did you want red or white?”

  It was an innocuous question, but the questioner was anything but innocuous. His voice broke into their conversation with purposeful abrasiveness, and then his arm slid in between Julia’s body and Dom, effectively separating them and then smoothly shouldering Dom out of the way.

  Mike held two glasses of wine, one white and one red, and his slanted glare at Dom was very close to menacing.

  “White, thanks,” Julia said, keeping her tone natural. She rolled her eyes at Mike with a frown, making sure that Dom didn’t see.

  After he’d handed off the wine, Mike turned so his back was against the window next to Julia’s. He arched one eyebrow at Dom and made the most of the three inches he had on the man.

  Dom shifted and cleared his throat. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  “I’m pretty sure we haven’t.” Mike looked particularly handsome tonight, almost sophisticated in his tailored dark suit and polished shoes. He’d shaved before they’d left their apartment, and his hair was only slightly mussed.

  Julia couldn’t help but feel a softening in her chest as she looked at him. He was incredibly handsome, and even his annoying possessiveness just now was so dear.

  When he draped one arm around her waist, pulling her against his side, she didn’t object—even though it was obviously a gesture of claiming her.

  “This is my husband, Mike,” she said, “And this is Dom Keller, who just moved here from L.A.”

  She and Mike had been married for less than a month. They’d vacationed in the Greek islands for two weeks and had got married there. Her old-fashioned family was thrilled, of course, and Helen couldn’t help cackling with glee over the predictable course Julia’s life had taken after the crisis with Drayton.

  Everyone thought she was settling down, after the wild fling her threesome had been.

  But that wasn’t what had happened at all.

  It wasn’t about settling or about settling down. She and Mike had changed. They’d grown. They’d lost Drayton. And they’d married, somewhat spontaneously after being a couple for more than eight months, as a sign of their commitment rather than as the expected culmination of a romantic relationship.

  After a little more small talk, Dom slunk away, pretending to be amused instead of intimidated.

  As soon as he left, Julia gave Mike a significant look.

  Mike didn’t need an interpreter. “He was hitting on you.”

  “So?”

  “You don’t think I’m going to be all right with that?”

  “I had taken care of it. There was no need to swoop in and act like a caveman.”

  “And I’d shaved tonight and everything,” he drawled, in an obvious attempt to deflect the tension with humor.

  She did kind of want to smile, but instead she repeated, “I had taken care of it.”

  His arm was still around her waist, and now he drew her closer to him, turning her to face him until their bodies were pressed lightly together. “I don’t like other men looking at you that way.”

  “I know you don’t. But I don’t like the super-possessive act, and I thought you were going to try to respect that.”

  Mike had never been particularly possessive until they’d gotten together as a couple. At least, he’d never acted on whatever possessiveness he’d been feeling.

  She understood why that had changed. It was an unavoidable consequence of his sharing her with Drayton for more than a year. Now that his claim on her was sole, he held onto it more tightly than he would have by nature.

  “All right,” Mike said, his voice thickening in a way she recognized very well. His big hand spanned the side of her waist, his fingers edging down toward her bottom. “No super-possessive act. As long as I can make it clear to everyone that you’re mine.”

  Julia couldn’t help herself. She choked on a burst of laughter and reached up to give Mike a little hug. “I love you, you big idiot.”

  He chuckled and returned the hug. “I’m glad to hear it. The love part, not the idiot part.” When he dropped his arms, he gave her a more serious look. “Sorry about before. That guy just got on my nerves. I think it was those ridiculous cufflinks.”

  This made Julia laugh even more, since it was exactly the way she’d felt herself.

  No matter how much they loved each other, it hadn’t been an easy transition—moving from two-thirds of a threesome to an exclusive couple. Mike was getting better about the possessiveness, and Julia was getting better about recognizing Mike as a whole person, rather than the parts of him she’d acknowledged before. They were both gradually growing more confident about their relationship, and she was sure now that the decision they’d made eight months ago had been a good one.

  Mike was her husband—which still sometimes seemed absolutely crazy to her—and she wouldn’t want to go back to having two men, even if one of them was Mike.

  She was prepared to believe that it was possible to have a healthy, committed relationship between three people—but the relationship they’d had before could never have turned into it. And she wasn’t even sure she was the right person for such a relationship.

  She knew with crystal clarity that Mike would never have done it.

  Julia accepted his apology with a kiss.

  “So what was his play?” Mike asked, taking a sip of wine and turning back to look at the gathered crowds. “Dom’s, I mean.”

  “He was wondering if I was adventurous as he’d heard.”

  Mike cocked an eyebrow. “And what did you tell him?”

  “I said I was a boring, married woman who rarely gets excited anymore.”

  His eyes were amused when they met hers, but as the two held gazes, his expression turned into something else. She recognized that particular flare, felt a matching heat rise up inside her.

  “I could take you,” Mike sai
d, his voice low and deliciously rough, “Right here against the window, in front of everyone.”

  Julia flushed, felt her nipples tighten and her intimate muscles clench in excitement. But she managed to say coolly enough, “That might not make a good impression on my boss.”

  They settled for the bathroom in a far wing of the house—one Julia had used at previous parties when the other bathroom was occupied.

  They were already kissing and half-embracing as they stumbled into the small room, decorated with old-fashioned fixtures and fabrics of moss green and rose. After locking the door, Mike pushed Julia up against it, bunching her short skirt up toward her hips and lifting one of her legs to wrap around his.

  Julia clawed at his jacket and hair, frantically trying to pull him closer. Her arousal had hit her so quickly that her wet pussy ached sharply and hotly.

  After a minute of hungry kissing and clumsy caressing, Julia unzipped Mike’s trousers. He parted her legs and reangled her hips. Then pushed her damp panties to the side.

  With a rough sound of approval, he found her wet passage. Then he guided his cock to her entrance before he gave a hard thrust that pushed her bottom against the door.

  The position was awkward, and she had a hard time keeping her balance and still keeping her pelvis in an accessible angle. But the hard penetration and the mild discomfort thrilled her, causing her to bite her bottom lip to keep from crying out.

  He thrust a few more times, supporting himself with one hand on the door and using the other to hold her hips in place. But soon his grunts sounded as frustrated as they were hot, and he pulled back from her slightly, flushed and panting.

  She was already halfway to orgasm, but the leg she’d wrapped around his thighs to try to give her some leverage was starting to ache and her other leg had grown shaky.

  She began breathlessly, “Maybe we should—”

  Before she could finish, Mike slid out his cock, took her by the shoulders, and bent her over the sink. Pushing her skirt up to her waist, he parted her bottom cheeks to give him access to her pussy. She was still hot and slippery, and she bit back a moan as he pushed his cock back inside.

  In this position, he could thrust more easily, and he built back up to a hard, fast rhythm. She edged her hand down in front of her so she could rub her clit, and soon she was making muffled whimpers of pleasure as the dual stimulation pushed her to the edge.

  His cock hitting her g-spot on each thrust, Mike muttered out primitive sounds as he fucked her good and hard over the sink. “Come, baby,” he said at last, in that thick, erotic voice that always drove her crazy. “Come now.”

  She rubbed her clit eagerly, pushing her bottom back against his thrusting. A hard climax sliced through her, which she tried to muffle by pressing her mouth into her arm.

  Then Mike let himself go as well, gripping her hips with both hands and holding her in place as he rocked against her ass with a few last strokes. Then he stopped thrusting and just pushed against her forcefully. It felt so good Julia pushed back against the pressure, squirming for more stimulation.

  Mike’s face twisted as he came, and he expelled a long rush of breath. Julia shuddered through a second mini-orgasm as she felt him come inside her.

  Then they straightened up, reordered their clothes, washed their hands, and laughed their way back to the party.

  Leaning against Mike as they made idle chit-chat with her boss, Julia was flushed, satisfied and happy.

  And she didn’t feel particularly boring.

  ***

  There was a large package outside of their apartment when they returned, labeled with just their names. It obviously hadn’t been mailed, and it hadn’t come through a delivery service. Someone must have set it next to their door while they’d been gone.

  “What do you think it is?” Julia asked, as Mike hauled the evidently heavy box inside.

  “Another wedding present, I’d guess.”

  “But it wasn’t mailed. Who do you think it’s from?”

  “Let’s open it and see.” Mike started to tear away the tape, and Julia moved to help him pull the packing material out of the box.

  Inside was a marble sculpture.

  Both Mike and Julia stared down at it blankly.

  “What is it?” she asked at last.

  “I don’t know.” Mike reached down to carefully pull the sculpture out of the box. It was almost two feet high, and appeared at first glance to be abstract, representing nothing very clearly.

  When he’d set it on a clear spot on the console table, they both stepped back to study it some more.

  As Julia looked, she started to see particular patterns come out in the graceful design. She saw a shoulder—strong, stable, and masculine—leading up to part of a neck. Then she saw another element, separate from the shoulder but brushing against it—a smooth, sleek sweep of feminine hair.

  It was Mike and Julia as Drayton had represented them in his photographs. Only here, they were together in an undeniably powerful sculpture.

  “Oh, God!” Julia breathed, covering her mouth with her hand as a pang of emotion shot sharply through her chest.

  Mike saw it too. Understood it. He stood speechless and stared at the piece of art.

  They hadn’t spoken to Drayton since the night in the house. He had obviously left town, abandoning all of the possessions he had in the city, including his Lexus and his father’s house. He’d told her, after all, that he couldn’t live the life he did unless he was willing to walk away from everything.

  And that was what he’d done.

  Losing him had been hard, no matter what he’d done to lead them to that point. And even now Julia sometimes still missed him, although the sharpness of the breaking had passed. She knew it hadn’t been easy for Mike either, after a friendship that had lasted more than a decade.

  The memory of Drayton now was bittersweet, softened only by the knowledge that he hadn’t chosen against her after all. Plus, they were all better off now.

  They’d had no idea Drayton was aware of their marriage, and they’d never dreamed of him giving them such a gift.

  “There’s a note,” Mike said, breaking the long silence. He pulled a thick sheet of paper out of the box and started to read: “All is well. The story goes on. D.”

  Julia remembered what Alexander Darrington had told her to explain the symbolic significance of six. Six is incomplete, unfinished, never reaching the end, always one step away from conclusion. That was the life Drayton wanted.

  It wouldn’t have been what Julia wanted, but she was glad he was all right.

  She glanced over at Mike and saw he was staring again at the sculpture.

  “It’s amazing,” he said at last.

  “So we can keep it?” She wasn’t sure and held her breath as she waited for his answer. The lines of bitterness were still ragged in Mike where Drayton was concerned, and she was always careful about how she handled anything concerning him.

  “Yeah. Why not?”

  She walked over to give him a brief hug, and together they gazed at Drayton’s sculpture—his visual representation of the two of them.

  After a moment, she saw something else. Her breath hitched as she ran her hands along a curve in the marble beneath the male shoulder. “Look. Look at this!”

  It was a Roman numeral, etched in the surface so faintly the casual observer would never notice it.

  But Julia had seen it. A number, a symbol, Drayton’s final statement about who and what they were.

  And she knew exactly what it meant.

  She brushed a fingertip against the cool marble. “We are seven.”

  ***

  If you enjoyed Finished, please consider leaving a review and telling others about it. You might also check out the excerpt from No Regrets on the next pages. If you’d like to stay up-to-date on sales and new releases, then you can sign up for my monthly newsletter, in which I share news for both my Noelle Adams and Claire Kent pennames. You can sign up for the newsletter
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  Excerpt from No Regrets

  I felt strange being in the bar again, and I couldn’t help but glance around, on the off chance Josh was there. He lived just down the block, after all.

  He wasn’t. It was ridiculous to assume he would be. Yes, he was the one who’d suggested the bar last time, but that didn’t mean he hung out here all the time.

  Even if he did, it wasn’t like anything else was going to happen between us. It was clearly a one-time thing—fueled by grief, restlessness, and something lost.

  I hadn’t heard from him since. Of course, I hadn’t. And naturally I hadn’t made any attempt to contact him either.

  He was young and good-looking and smart and sexy. He had a good job and he was single and he was straight. Women were no doubt falling all over him all the time—much younger, prettier, and more interesting women than me.

  One thing I wasn’t going to do was make a fool of myself over a man. I’d done that plenty of times in my twenties, and a couple of times in my thirties too. I wasn’t going to do it again.

  I felt briefly stupid as I realized I was searching the bar for one handsome face and pair of broad shoulders, so I immediately stopped.

  “I think the guy in the corner there is into you, Leslie,” Jo said. She was what my mother would have called a “comfortable-looking” woman in her forties. She had a husband and two kids who were both in college now.

  Automatically, I turned to see who she referred to. He looked to be about seventy and was wearing a leather jacket, despite the warm night.

  He gave me a half-hearted leer.

  I turned back to glare at Jo, who had burst into laughter. I tried to maintain my glare when Donna started giggling too.

  Donna was thirty-two, and she seemed to always have a boyfriend. She’d made a point of not making plans tonight, though, so she could come out with us.

  “Age shouldn’t matter,” Jo said primly. “You never know.”

  “Right. He’s a real catch.” I felt kind of silly about the kick in my heart when I’d turned to look, since my mind had immediately flown to Josh.

  What the hell was wrong with me? I knew better than to hope for something like that.