by Max Monroe
Wrinkles formed in her little button nose as she pulled back, her delicate hands loosening my tie just enough that I could breathe again.
Relaxed by the music or me, Georgia finally felt comfortable enough to address the night.
“It really is a small world, huh? People crossing paths and never realizing that they already had…or maybe they should have sooner.”
Complicated and twisted, she spoke of herself and me and Rose and Ruck and everyone else all at once. But the answer was simple to me.
“The world is small, baby. But love is large. Big enough that coincidence occasionally rubs elbows with opportunity.”
“Where’d you get that?” she asked. “Ernest Hemingway again?”
I shook my head and pressed my lips lightly to hers briefly.
“That one’s all me.”
I lived in her eyes as she searched the depths of mine, swimming in the pools of blue and fighting to stay there. I was so deep in her, deep in this, entrenched in the muck and lies, and I still felt high.
High on her, high on us, and high on everything I wanted us to be. The wedding, the kids, the happily ever after. I thought it because I wanted it. Every minute, every hour, every day, I wanted her to be mine.
I was in fucking love with her.
And I needed to show her.
“Let’s get out of here,” I pleaded softly, rubbing the tip of my thumb along her perfect bottom lip.
She could feel my desperation, a tremble running through her from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. Her gaze jumped to our seats, and I followed to find Thatch and Cass deep in flirtatious conversation and Will missing.
I scanned the room ahead of her, finding him at the bar in conversation with a woman and pointing him out.
“They’re all busy, Benny,” I coaxed. “Come home with me.”
I expected her to survey them again, but instead, her eyes just found mine.
“Okay, Kline.”
Okay.
All it took was a little love making to turn that okay into a repeated yes.
I was straddling the line between asleep and awake. My eyes were still shut, but the morning sun rested against my face. Kline’s arms were wrapped around me, holding my back to his chest. Big spoon, little spoon, we fit perfectly.
My mind replayed last night. The bar. Finding out Kline’s best friend Thatch was actually my TapNext friend, Ruck.
Talk about a twisted kind of irony.
When I’d seen Thatch’s reflection in the mirror, a million emotions had steamrolled through me, but the biggest, most palpable one had been disappointment. That in itself had my gut clenching from guilt. That emotion made me feel like I had done wrong by Kline.
I couldn’t deny chatting with Ruck had become one of the highlights of my day. He was funny and sweet and charming.
And the more I thought about it, the more it didn’t really make sense.
Thatch was a nice guy, but he was also very different from the man I pictured as Ruck. He was boisterous and seemed to have a propensity for using the word fuck…a lot. In all actuality, he was Kline’s version of Cassie. They were both crazy opinionated, a bit impulsive, and often tossed out humor in otherwise serious conversations.
Nothing like the Ruck I had come to know. But then again, it was the Internet, and just because we chatted often didn’t mean I really knew him.
But I knew Kline. Despite the awkwardness of last night, it had still been a good night because of him. It was becoming a theme. If he was there, I was happy.
My own little Kline and Georgia movie played behind my lids. I curled into him more, keeping my eyes closed, and watched.
I saw us dancing on our first date, and the way I couldn’t stop smiling when he kissed me. His eyes, worried and concerned, when I was having an allergic reaction to lime juice. The way he looked that morning, sleepy and handsome and mine.
I saw us walking through New York, holding hands, and taking it all in together. I saw him at the pool, playfully taking off his boxers and turning around, dancing for my entertainment.
I saw us in the Hamptons and the way he’d looked when he’d been inside of me, moving and kissing and loving me. And then, him laughing the next morning when I tried to feed him burnt toast and told him it was supposed to be that way.
The way he’d often sneak into my office, shut the door, and pull me into his arms.
All of the inside jokes and secret smiles that we shared.
We weren’t just boyfriend and girlfriend, we weren’t just lovers, we weren’t just one thing.
We were all the things.
I was back in the present, blinking sleep from my eyes. I turned in his arms and took him in. The way his chest moved with each soft breath. The way his eyelashes separated into tiny points near the corners of his eyes. I brushed his cheek, fingers sliding past the tiny freckle near his ear.
My mind raced while my heart sped up, pounding in an erratic rhythm. And then, heart and brain collided, becoming one in the way I felt for him.
The bedroom was silent, only the faint sounds of the city filtering past us, but in the stillness, I could still hear it in the way my breath quickened. I could see it lying beside me—jaw slack and eyelashes resting against his cheeks.
And I could feel it. God, I could feel it.
I was in love.
I was in love with Kline.
Leaning forward, I pressed my lips to the corner of his mouth, silently saying, “I love you,” against his skin.
He mumbled something, but otherwise, barely budged.
Looking at his handsome face, blissfully content in sleep, I knew what I had to do.
Scratch that—I knew what I wanted to do.
I didn’t want this whole “Ruck” situation hanging over my head. I wanted to move past it, and most importantly, I wanted to move forward with Kline.
Sliding out of the bed as quietly and smoothly as possible, I threw on one of his t-shirts and headed into the kitchen to grab my phone out of my purse. I dialed Cass’s number as I stepped onto the terrace and shut the door behind me.
She answered on the fourth ring. “What in the fuck time is it?”
“I need you to take over my TapNext account.”
“Georgia?” she asked, her voice scratchy with sleep.
“Of course it’s Georgia. Who in the hell did you think it was?”
“An asshole who decided to call me at…” She paused, and the sounds of sheets rustling filled my ears. “Eight in the morning. Jesus, Georgie, couldn’t you have postponed this conversation for about four more hours?”
“I couldn’t wait. I have to fix this, Cass. I feel like the worst person in the world.”
“What? Why?”
“God, I’m such an asshole. Why did I do that? Why did I keep talking to Ruck when I knew the possibilities I had with Kline? I feel like I’ve been emotionally cheating on him the entire time.”
“Georgia—” She started to respond, but I was already chiming in, too damn worked up to stop.
“In some weird way, I think I was invested in Ruck. Not even close to how I feel about Kline, but still, I liked talking to him. I wanted to talk to him. And you know what the worst thing is? When I found out Ruck was Thatch, I was fucking disappointed. It felt like a letdown.”
“Shut. Up,” she groaned. “You didn’t cheat on him. You were just chatting with someone, as friends. This is not something you need to feel guilty about.”
I stayed quiet, mentally chastising myself for being so stupid.
“Georgia. Did you ever make plans to meet up with Ruck?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Never.”
“Did you ever tell him you love him or want a relationship with him?”
“Of course not.”
“So stop berating yourself over this. It’s pointless, and honestly, completely unwarranted. You haven’t done anything wrong, sweetheart. You’ve been completely faithful to your boyfriend.”
I took a calm
ing breath. “You’re right. I was completely faithful to him.”
“Okay, great. I’m so glad we have that settled. I’ll call you later.”
“Cass,” I warned. “Don’t you dare hang up on me!”
“I’m so tired, Georgie,” she whined. “Why won’t you let me sleep?”
“Because I need you to promise you’ll take over my TapNext account.”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “Why would I want to do that?”
“Because you love me.”
“Just unsubscribe from the damn thing,” she muttered.
“I don’t want to be a complete asshole to Ruck. And I felt like you guys hit if off last night.”
“You’re talking about Thatch, right?”
“Yes, Thatch. Your face is the one on my profile anyway. And you can just take over and act like it was you the whole time.”
“This is a little weird, G.”
“I know, but I don’t really know what else to do.”
She was right. It was bordering on insane to have her take over the conversations, but it felt like the best option. That way, Ruck wasn’t left in the dust, and hell, maybe Thatch and Cass would be an interesting little matchup.
I’d just wait to mention all of the random jokes and personal shit I had divulged to Ruck at a later time. Like never. I had a feeling once he started chatting more with my crazy, beautiful, and smart best friend, she’d eventually just be Rose to him, without him knowing there was ever a difference.
It had to work, right?
She was still quiet and I wasn’t sure if she actually fell back asleep or was mulling over her options.
“Cass?”
“Yeah, okay,” she agreed. “Send me your login shit. I’ll message him.”
“Really? Oh my God! You’re the best!” I squealed.
“I’m not doing this for you, Wheorgie. When I said I’d Thatch that, I meant it. I have a feeling that man is a beast in bed.”
“Seriously—” I started to say, but the line clicked in my ear.
A word to the wise: never call Cassie before noon. I was lucky I’d managed to keep her on the phone as long as I had.
I don’t know how long I stood out on Kline’s terrace, elbows resting on the banister, eyes staring off into the distance. I watched the clouds move in, covering the sun and filling the sky with an impending sense of doom. Lightning flashed in the distance.
But the city, it still moved below me, still hustled and bustled and never quit showing off its boisterous personality.
“I missed you in my bed.” Warm arms wrapped around my waist. The smell of his soap and clean laundry and Kline assaulted my senses.
I sighed in contentment, resting my head on his shoulder.
“What are you doing out here?”
“I had to call Cassie,” I admitted, omitting the details about the actual conversation. Even though I still felt guilty about the whole Ruck thing, I decided it was best to leave it in the past. No good would’ve come from me rehashing it with Kline. Because at the end of the day, he was who I wanted. The only man I wanted.
“And now you’re just standing out here, watching the storm roll in?”
“Something like that.”
“God, you smell so good.” His nose was buried in my neck, inhaling for a brief moment, until he rested his chin on my shoulder.
I turned in his arms, interlocking my hands high, around his strong neck.
Playful blue eyes stared back at me. He swept my hair off my shoulder, moving his lips to my neck, and then my ear, cheek, before he leaned back, taking in my attire…or lack thereof. A rogue hand slipped down my side, gripping my thigh. “And you’re standing out here in nothing but my t-shirt. I think you need to come inside, baby.”
My lips found his, placing sweet kisses against his smiling mouth. “Are you trying to have your wicked way with me?”
He slid his fingers up my thigh and brushed across the one place I ached for him. “I’d say I’m not the only one trying in this scenario.” He bit my bottom lip, tugging on it until I moaned. His hands moved to my ass, lifting me up and urging my legs to wrap around his waist. Kline was hard beneath his boxer briefs, and the second he was firmly pressed against me, I whimpered against his mouth. And then, he was kissing me deeper, coaxing my lips open and tangling his tongue with mine.
Candles melted when you lit them.
I melted when Kline Brooks kissed me.
Into. A. Puddle. Of. Pliant. Swoony. Mush.
His mouth was my own personal brand of perfection. Every soft caress of his lips against mine only made me crave him more. I doubted I’d ever get tired of this. Him. Us.
My breathing sped up, his touch sparking every tiny nerve ending inside of me. His hands, God, whenever they were touching me, I was losing my mind.
I shuddered against him.
He felt it, smiling as he kissed me.
Thunder filled the air as the sky opened up and started to pour over the city. The wind caused drops of rain to slide into the terrace and onto us.
He didn’t break our kiss, whispering against my mouth all of the dirty things he wanted to do to me as he did. My hair was wet and his t-shirt stuck to me like a second skin, but I barely noticed, too consumed by him. My hips moved of their own accord, desperate for the hardness he was so graciously offering against me.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he growled. Yes, he actually growled. I always thought the growl was bullshit, a mythical unicorn put into romance novels, but the guttural noise that came from his lungs proved me wrong.
He moved us back inside the apartment, kicking the door shut with his foot. We were walking across his bedroom one second and then tangled on his bed the next, our mouths never leaving one another.
I giggled against his lips as my ass bounced on the mattress.
Kline pulled back, staring down at me as he moved the wet strands of hair plastered to my cheeks.
I shivered against him. I couldn’t help it. Having him this close, wrapped around me, completed me in some odd way. I’d never felt this before, for anyone. And it scared me to think I could have messed this up by never agreeing to that first date or meeting Ruck in person. I could have lived an entire life without getting to feel this.
His eyes turned concerned. “What’s wrong, baby?”
“Nothing.” I swallowed down my emotion and distracted him with my lips. “I want you,” I whispered against his mouth.
He grinned, purposefully taking in my soaked attire. “Is that why you’re doing your best impression of a wet t-shirt contest?”
I bit my lip. “Am I being too obvious?”
His large hands caressed my breasts through wet cotton, thumbs brushing across my nipples.
“I’ve never been to a wet t-shirt contest, but is it normal to grope the contestants?”
He waggled his eyebrows. “This judge does.”
“What else does this judge do?”
He leaned forward, sucking my nipple into his mouth and licking around the sensitive peak. I felt the warmth of his tongue and the cool wetness from his t-shirt all the way down my body and between my legs.
My fingers found his hair, gripping the strands tightly as he moved to my other breast.
“I think I need to enter these contests more often,” I said, moaning.
He glanced up, shaking his head. “No one else is ever going to lay eyes on this perfect fucking body.” He held my hips and pushed his pelvis against me, spurring another moan from my lips. “No one else will get to hear your sounds or watch your lips part when you’re losing control.” He nipped at my bottom lip and then trailed his mouth across my jaw to my neck, until his breath was hot and seductive by my ear. “But, if you promise to be in my bedroom, you can do it any goddamn time you want.”
“Deal,” I whispered. “Now, less talking and more getting me naked and fucking me until I forget my name.”
“Fucking you until you forget your name?” His eyes turned heated,
mouth curving into a devilish grin. “I think I can work with this.”
And believe me, he did. I had praised Mother Teresa, Jesus, Buddha, and was calling myself Oprah by the time he was finished blowing my mind.
“I’m sorry,” Georgia apologized for the twenty-ninth time as she knocked on the door to her parents’ suburban New Jersey home.
“Baby, it’s fine. I want to meet them. Didn’t I tell you I wanted to meet them?”
“Yes, you did. But I don’t think you meant this afternoon.”
I had to laugh at that. It was true, when I’d had Georgia wrapped around me in bed this morning, I hadn’t envisioned meeting her parents only five hours later. But when her mom had called on FaceTime that morning and Georgia had run away to take the call in private, I hadn’t been able to resist popping in for a hello.
“It’s my own fault. You told me not to show my face on the call,” I reminded her.
“I know. It is your fault. Maybe I’m mad at you.”
“You’re not,” I disagreed.
“Okay,” she conceded. “I’m not. Honestly, I’m just sorry that when Savannah makes demands, I can’t turn her down.”
“The power of a mother’s guilt trip is compelling. Trust me, I’m familiar. I’d love to bottle it and use it at the office,” I consoled just as the door swung open to a man with slightly wild hair that grayed around the edges.
“Georgie!” he called, engulfing her in a hug and pulling her through the door. He nuzzled her hair and breathed her in for a good five seconds before his eyes met mine and turned hard.
“Who’s this clown?”
“Dad!” Georgia chastised, her cheeks going cherry with mortification.
I couldn’t help but smile. In his most laid-back tone, her dad had thrown the ultimate insult my way. No warm-up or pretense or gestures of fond small talk. This was a man who cared about one thing in this scenario—his daughter. I liked him immediately.
“Kline Brooks,” I introduced myself, offering my hand.
“Dick. Dick Cummings.” He shook my hand with fervor, purposely trying his damnedest to crush my fingers.
Dick Cummings? Thank God Thatch wasn’t here. He would have had a field day with that one.
“His full name is Richard,” Georgia’s mother interrupted, forcing her way into the open doorway. “I’m Savannah, by the way. It really is a pleasure, Kline.”
