by Zoe York
“I wasn’t a nun.” She took a sip of wine, then another. She glanced over at Kyle. He was beautiful, his long torso corded with muscles earned through manual labour, his abs tight and defined even as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He was a leaner version of The Thinker, the statue she’d seen in Paris. She curved her hand around his bulging bicep and it flexed against her palm. “There haven’t been that many guys.”
He waved his hand. “I don’t…I lost the right to care about that a long time ago.”
She didn’t argue. It was true, but it wasn’t the only truth. “I don’t like the idea of you being with anyone else either.”
“Then why did you ask about Crystal? Why torture yourself?”
“Because I don’t want to be jealous. I don’t like that feeling. I don’t like feelings in general.”
Kyle turned toward her on the couch. The candle flickered, bouncing light off the side of his face and she sucked in a breath. His profile was beautiful, but full-on, his appeal was more base. He went from a statue to a hot blooded man, from fantasy to reality. Sexy, scary reality.
“I don’t think that’s true, Laney.” The words slid between them quietly, and he reached through them to caress her naked shoulder. “You like to feel me inside of you.”
Her breath hitched. “That’s different.”
“Is it?” he murmured, tracing the line of her neck up to her jaw. He rubbed his fingers back and forth there, tipping her head to the side. He shifted closer and lowered his mouth to where her neck and shoulder meet.
She whimpered, the sound vibrating against his lips.
“Tell me this isn’t a real feeling.”
She couldn’t. Her pulse sped up and he laid his palm flat on her chest. “In time, you’ll want to feel here again.”
Laney shook her head. She laced her fingers into Kyle’s and pulled his hand lower to rest on her abdomen. “The agony here? I don’t like to feel that. And it’s inevitable, so this?” She pointed at her heart. “That’s off limits. To everyone.”
Kyle didn’t say anything until Laney went to move away. He pulled her closer instead and lowered his face so their foreheads pressed together. “That’s my fault, then, and I’m sorry. To you, and all the men out there that probably want to love you. They’re missing out.”
Laney sniffed, and she realized that she was crying. Fuck. That wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go down. Kyle wiped her face with his hands and kissed her damp cheek. He meant it to comfort her, she knew that, but crying in front of him crossed a line. She felt way too vulnerable.
“I think I should go,” Laney whispered, and Kyle nodded. She climbed off the couch, feeling clumsy as she searched for her shirt. She took her time putting it on and waited until she was composed before turning back to face Kyle. “Well, it’s been real.”
He was across the room before she could crack a smile, and he hauled her into his arms. His hands gripped her shoulders, and uncomfortable heat radiated through her shirt. His gaze smoldered, and it took him a few moments to pull words together. “Don’t make light of it, Laney. I get why you’re leaving, but…fuck. You make me crazy.”
Her gasp was cut off as he kissed her, bruising her lips. Probably her heart too. But Laney had tasted enough honesty for one night, so she buried that thought deep in the vault. His tongue pushed hard against hers, then softened, and she sank into the kiss. They were much better at this than they were at talking. Regret, longing and frustration flowed between them, and too quickly Kyle stepped away, and she stumbled at the loss. The scent of a date swirled around them, a mix of clean bodies, fancy drug store brands and fresh arousal, reminding her just how far off course the evening had gone. Without looking at her, he grabbed at his shirt and headed for the entryway. She followed, stuffing herself into winter gear. Kyle opened the door and she fled, not looking back.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Claire was reading in the living room. She closed her book but didn’t get up. “How was dinner?”
Laney shrugged and made a little grimace. “About as well as one might expect dinner with an ex-boyfriend to go.”
It wasn’t a lie. And it was all she was going to share. She waved her mother back to her book and headed upstairs. Evie had fallen asleep in the boys’ room during story time, and Laney pulled the door closed, not wanting to wake any of them up. She needed a long, hot soak in the tub.
The bubbly heat warmed her from the inside out, but it didn’t do anything to shake the discontent. She dunked under the water and shook her head, her hair floating around her like bands of ribbon. Where had the evening gone wrong? The more she thought about fighting with Kyle, and leaving him without resolving the tension that had been brewing between them, the worse she felt. She hated that uneasy niggle at the back of her neck, but she didn’t know how to make it go away.
She had to admit that tonight revealed they still had a lot of unresolved issues, and it was probably impossible to have a no-strings attached fling with her ex. Her stomach flipped at the idea that whatever was going on between them was now over. No. Laney sat straight up in the bath with a gasp. She wanted more. But with Kyle? He’s not easily duplicated. Twelve years had proven that point. She swiped at her face, pushing water away from her eyes and that errant desire from her mind, but both dripped back undeterred. Was she falling for Kyle after all? Considering that question was like tiptoeing to the edge of a cliff, and she inhaled a shaky breath.
Memories both old and new rolled over in her head. The first time Kyle kissed her. She grinned. She had actually kissed him. He’d come to the university library to help her study, and found her in the stacks trying to get a book on the top shelf. A friendly hug turned into a full body press, then she’d pulled his face to hers. She could still feel the pounding of his heart against hers, how his palms went damp in the small of her back, and the unbearable ache in her heart when he pulled away. That didn’t hold a candle to the misery of walking away from him for good when she left for Harvard. And nothing she’d experienced since coming home compared to any of the low points of their relationship. Relief rolled through her body.
She dressed in flannel pajama pants, a t-shirt and thick wool work socks. Looking at her bed, she decided she needed a fortifying cup of hot chocolate first and padded downstairs. Her mother had moved to the kitchen and was turning out the lights.
“Can I get you something, Laney?”
“I just came down to make some hot chocolate. Do you want some?” Claire shook her head and yawned, so Laney shooed her toward the stairs. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.”
Claire paused and touched Laney’s cheek. “You okay?”
She nodded. She would be, anyway.
She was reaching for the kettle when something scratched at the door. She jumped and whirled around. Someone. With a finger to her lips, Laney pulled the door open. “What are you doing here?” she whispered.
Kyle stepped in, careful not to make any noise with his boots. “I won’t stay long,” he said, matching her quiet tone. “But I just couldn’t let you leave like that.”
With a start, Laney remembered that she had been vague with Kyle about when she was leaving Wardham, and he thought that she was leaving the next day.
“Are you making hot chocolate?” He leaned around her, eyeing the canister on the counter.
“Maybe.”
“Can I have some?”
“Don’t you have any at home?”
“I do, but it’s a cold walk back.” He gestured at the driveway. He hadn’t driven his truck over. He shrugged, as if there wasn’t an easy explanation. That was the truth for so much of what was going on between them, what was a late night walk in the cold?
She nodded and pointed to the table. Just in case he’d forgotten the rule, she put her finger to her lips again. She found herself smiling as she stirred sweetened cocoa powder into mugs of hot water and topped them with a splash of cream. A quick rummage through the cupboards didn’t turn up anything other than spelt cookies, so she
carried just the mugs to the table.
“I’m sorry, I don’t have anything sweet to offer.” As she said that, she realized that she’d left Kyle’s place before they’d gotten to dessert, and her hand flew to her mouth as she gasped. “Oh god, I’m sorry, your dessert.”
He shook his head and wrapped his hands around his cup. “Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t homemade, or anything. This is great.”
Laney slumped in her chair. She felt rotten.
“Hey, don’t make that face. It’s fine, really. I don’t have enough drama in my life.” Kyle winked at her. “And I only had a few days to soak up whatever you can throw at me. Since you aren’t actually throwing anything, it’s all good.”
She wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t want to get into anything again so she nodded and smiled. “Will it keep? The dessert, I mean. Maybe we could try again tomorrow night. I don’t need to be back in Chicago until New Year’s.”
Kyle shook his head, clear disappointment on his face. “I’m curling tomorrow with a bunch of teachers. I probably won’t be home until late.”
“Call me when you’re done and I’ll come over.”
“Are you looking for a booty call?” He raised an eyebrow and pulled out his phone.
“I think we’ve demonstrated that works better for us than the whole ‘dinner and a movie’ thing, don’t you?” Laney regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. Dinner had been great. Kyle didn’t look offended, though, and she took his phone and added her number, and then after a moment’s hesitation, her email address and Twitter handle as well.
“Twitter?” Kyle asked, looking at her profile.
She shrugged. “It’s a good way to stay connected with other physicians and keep up to date on news in the medical community. I’ve done a bit of guest blogging too. I just added it because your address book has a field for it. You don’t need to follow me.”
Kyle met her gaze for a beat, then finished his hot chocolate and rinsed the mug in the sink. Laney stood to see him out to the door, and after he pulled on his coat, Kyle took one of her hands in his. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, back and forth, and she squeezed his fingers. “I’m going to follow you, Laney.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Squeeze your butt! Maintain a straight line through your ribs and tummy, good, now slow inhale, and exhale, hold it there, good, inhale again, slow, that’s good.” Evie had missed her calling as a drill sergeant, although after a week of these exercises, she had to admit that her core did feel stronger. Not that Laney would admit it.
“And with this exhale, you’ll come out of shoulder bridge, maintaining a neutral spine. Roll down to the mat, then up to a seated position. Connor will lead the next exercise.”
Laney grinned at her nephew. “Whatcha got for us, big guy?”
Connor put his hands on his hips. “This is an advanced move, it’s really for superheroes, but you can try it. It’s called superman flying supertwist. Max is going to demonstrate.”
Max came running in wearing a tea towel as a cape, which he whipped off and flung at Laney’s head. He threw himself onto her mat, flat on his stomach, arms and legs stretched out and lifted slightly off the ground.
“Super Max, roll over. Uh, on the, you know, exhale.” Without touching the ground with either his hands or feet, Max flipped effortlessly to his back, then returned with similar ease to his front. “Once you’ve mastered that move—” Laney and Claire exchanged skeptical looks “—then you can add the twist. Super Max, fly!”
Max started to rock from side to side, wriggling his body, and Laney skittered backward off the mat to give him more room. He flipped once, and then again, and finished with a triumphant 90 degree turn, settling into a flying Superman pose, with the unique Max flair of using his hands as pretend laser guns. The three women dissolved into giggles, and Evie led them through a few final stretches.
“Maybe you and Connor should run family Pilates classes,” Laney suggested as they wandered to the kitchen for some homemade protein bars.
Evie nodded. “Honestly, I’ve been thinking about it. I’ll need to find a different space, because the studio space I’m sharing right now is fully booked. I’m only doing six classes a week, all adult, and they’re too popular to change.”
“If you got a dedicated space, how many classes could you offer?” Laney was surprised to hear that her sister wanted to expand. Evie seemed quite happy with her part-time schedule.
Evie shrugged. “Me personally? I could do four a day, although I’d rather hire part-time instructors and just lead one or two myself. I’ve drafted up a schedule with classes every day of the week, but in order to make a go of a standalone studio, I think I’d need to partner with a complimentary service. Maybe a spa. It’s still in the early planning stages.”
Laney gaped at her sister. “I had no idea. That all sounds fantastic. If you need anything...what’s mine is yours, you know that, right?”
Evie nodded. “Thank you. It won’t be necessary, but I appreciate it. If I can change the subject...”
“No, you can’t.” Laney shook her head, and stuffed a protein bar into Evie’s mouth. “I’m going to shower, then I think we should watch Love Actually.”
The diversion worked, and while Evie opened her mouth to ask again a few times during the movie, she thought better of it each time. The afternoon flew by, and after dinner, Laney reflected on how nice the day had been without any discussion. Talking is overrated, she decided, and that gave her an idea.
Kyle sent her a text shortly after nine o’clock saying he was heading home. She smoothed a hand across her outfit, borrowed from Evie—a denim miniskirt and a black long sleeve stretch shirt that looked conservative at first blush, but up close was thin enough to reveal the shadow of her black bra and the long delicate silver necklace she wore nestled between her breasts. She finished the outfit with her thigh high grey knit stockings and Evie’s hooker boots. She left her hair down, and didn’t bother with much makeup—only smudge proof mascara and peach flavoured lip balm.
She tucked the piece of paper she needed into the micro pocket on the skirt and squeezed her thighs together in anticipation.
She stopped in the living room to say goodnight to Evie and Claire. Her mother raised an eyebrow at her outfit, and Evie gave her an enthusiastic thumbs up, so she knew she’d hit the right tone. Tonight was a hook-up, plain and simple. Nothing else would work between them. Not just because of geography. There was too much history. Too much mess and not enough time. She squeezed her eyes shut. If only…but there was no point finishing that thought. And why bother? The sex, when they didn’t stuff it up with chit-chat, was knee-wobblingly good. A faint tremor started low in her belly. Kyle inside her. His mouth on her. Hungry kisses and big warm hands touching all over, making her melt. She was going to be soaking wet before she made it down the road at the rate her mind was going.
Kyle stood in the middle of his house. After having a quick shower and putting clean sheets on the bed, he wasn’t sure what to do next. Candles and wine had been too much the night before. Laney had asked about dessert. Should he unlock the door and just wait for her in bed? And why the hell was he so nervous? He decided to pull the cheesecake out of the fridge and leave it on the island along with a bowl of grapes and bottles of wine, Canadian Club, and sparkling water. Cover all the bases.
Laney’s headlights flared through the window.
At the door, she silenced his greeting with a light, breathless kiss and stepped past him. She wore an impossibly short skirt and sexy as hell boots, and once he took her coat, he could see the outline of her bra and something shiny through her shirt. She was breathtaking. He opened his mouth to tell her just how gorgeous she was when she stepped close and pressed her finger against his lips. She handed him a folded up piece of paper.
Talking is overrated. Let’s see how we do communicating with our bodies instead.
He raised an eyebrow, and she returned the expression wi
th impish challenge. One he would accept, no question. She was all long legs, feisty heat and naughty promises. He couldn’t resist.
He extended his hand and she laced her fingers into his, letting him lead her into the living room. The silence was weird, but he’d do anything to keep that secret smile on Laney’s face. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and thumbed through his playlists quickly, looking for something country. She used to love Faith Hill, which he didn’t have, but hopefully the albums he’d just downloaded with his Christmas gift cards would be an acceptable soundtrack for the night. He set his phone on the speaker docking station on the side table and tugged Laney into his arms as the first strum of guitar filled the room. She trembled, and he closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself not to want more than what was right in front of him. Everything I’ve ever wanted.
Everything he let slip away, too long ago.
And it wasn’t that he fumbled. It’s that he didn’t even try to catch her as she pulled away. He didn’t go to her when he had all the chances in the world. Didn’t read her emails, not that there’d been that many.
Like more would have made a difference?
And here she was, tonight, by some small miracle, and he wasn’t happy with that. Never enough.
Mother fu—the realization hit him like a Mack truck, and he tensed his hands on her gently rocking hips.
Laney looked up at him, her eyes soft with appreciation. She crinkled her brow, questioning whatever she saw on his face, and he shut the door on his dwelling.
She was enough.
A week with Laney had filled him with happiness in a way that work, his house, even his friends and family didn’t. In a way his two years alone certainly didn’t. He hadn’t been unhappy, not by a long shot, but this was...transcendent.
He didn’t know what the future would hold, but tonight, he’d hold Laney, and it would be enough.
Her lips curved, pleased with the changing look in his eyes, maybe, and she tucked her head against his shoulder. The air was still thick with all that they couldn’t talk about.
