Fraud

by J. L. Berg

  “Says the man without a job. How are you paying for all of this by the way?” I asked, looking at the pile of grocery bags we had yet to unpack.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, adding to the stack of pancakes.

  My mouth watered as I looked lovingly at the homemade blueberry masterpieces. I would have been fine with eating the pasta he’d brought over the night before, but he’d adamantly said no to that idea.

  “You need sustenance,” he’d said, jumping up from the bed and throwing on a pair of jeans over his bare ass.

  I’d thought he was insane at the time, but damn if I wasn’t happy now.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a home-cooked breakfast.

  “Are you sure I can’t pay you for some of these groceries?” I asked, snatching a pancake from the large stack.

  He grinned the instant he heard the involuntary groan erupt from inside me the moment my mouth met his pancakes.

  “No. You will not be paying me. Now or ever. Got it?”

  I nodded, my mouth full of food.

  “I have a plan,” he said. “After today, I’m hitting the pavement hard. I’ll knock on doors, bang on windows, and stalk people into the parking lots after-hours if I have to. I’m getting a job.”

  “I wouldn’t suggest the last part,” I said, reaching for another.

  He slapped my hand away. Instead, he grabbed a plate from the cupboard and gave it to me. “If you are going to steal my pancakes, at least do it with a plate.”

  “They’re really good,” I said, taking several and making a mountain of deliciousness.

  “I know. My mom taught me well. Get the maple syrup out of the microwave. And the butter is over there.”

  I did as instructed, along with getting a cup of coffee, and I happily munched on breakfast.

  “What are you doing?”

  I looked up at him from my little spot on the counter. “Eating?”

  He laughed, watching me bent over my plate in between all the dirty dishes. “Yes, but why here? Why not in the living room or at that fancy dining room table you have?”

  I shrugged. “Because you’re here.”

  “And if I weren’t here,” he asked, “where would you eat?”

  I finished my bite and grinned. “Well, if you weren’t here, I’d be at work, like a good girl. But, on a normal morning when I’m not at work, I eat my cereal—or any other meal for that matter—on the couch or the floor.”

  “Not at the table?”

  I shook my head. “It was my parents’. I haven’t touched it since they died.”

  He turned off the stove and reached for a plate for himself. As he moved, I watched his muscles flex, loving that he’d chosen to cook bare-chested.

  “Why keep it in the apartment then?” he asked, licking his fingers as a bit of syrup dripped from the jar.

  “I don’t know honestly. I have an entire storage unit filled with their stuff. I guess the table was special though; mealtime was important to my mom. We always ate dinner together.”

  “Us, too,” he replied.

  “I thought it would be a tribute to those memories. But, ever since I had it brought here, it’s been this constant reminder of everything I don’t have.”

  He set his fork down. “I don’t even know where my parents’ dining room table went,” he admitted. “Or any of their furniture. Hell, when my father had to go into the nursing home, I bailed, leaving my little brother responsible for everything.”

  “Well then, maybe that’s why we’re here now—so I can help you visit your dad one day, and you can eventually convince me to eat my damn cereal at that table in my dining room.”

  A faint smile appeared on his face. “Those are some crazy couple goals, Kate.”

  “Couple? Are we a couple?”

  He sauntered forward, that cocky grin that seemed to make my knees go weak spreading quickly. “You thought this was casual?”

  His arms wrapped around my waist. I could feel his fingers already working their magic as the hem of my shirt rose.

  “No. I mean, it’s not for me. I just—”

  “You just what? Thought, after I felt all this,” he said, thrusting his hand into my panties, “that I’d walk away? That I would have had enough?”

  “No,” I moaned as his thumb circled my clit.

  “Because I can guarantee you that I’ll never get enough of you, Kate. Never. You’re the sweet little surprise I never planned on, and damn if I’m not going to spend an eternity enjoying every part of you.”

  He made good on his words, both hands returning to my waist for the briefest moment before I was lifted onto the counter. Dishes, pancakes, and everything else were forgotten as my legs wrapped around him, and our mouths found each other.

  “You taste like sugar,” I murmured between kisses.

  “You always taste like sugar. Fucking everywhere,” he growled as his hands cupped my breasts through the thin fabric of my shirt.

  I never grew tired of it.

  The constant want, the need.

  I awoke, aching for him. I’d fallen asleep in his arms, missing him, and I wondered how that was physically possible. It was addictive.

  He was addictive.

  Plates crashed to the floor as we moved against each other. I tugged at his jeans while he frantically lifted my T-shirt. His hands traveled downward, ready to take over the removal of his jeans.

  I slapped them away, causing a deep rumble in the back of his throat.

  I had plenty of practice with unfastening my buttons. Buttons of all kinds in fact.

  But turn around and ask me to do it backward?

  It took a little longer.

  Finally, I unhooked the persistent button and freed the zipper along with everything underneath. My pace might have slowed, but the hunger deep within was only intensifying as I greedily unclothed my man.

  Mine.

  It was a word I used frequently in writing but one I rarely understood.

  Until now.

  Killian remained still, letting me feel my way around his body. Every inch of him was the epitome of male perfection. I could write sonnets about the curves of his ass or the sounds he made when I stroked his long, hard cock.

  “You’re killing me,” he murmured.

  Feeling frisky with my newfound power over him, I replied, “I guess you should punish me then.”

  I could see the decision in his eyes a split second before he made it. Grabbing my hips, he pulled me from the counter, flipped me around, and bent me over.

  I couldn’t remember my panties falling to the floor. I couldn’t remember anything, except for the feel of his body surging into mine.

  It was rough and electrifying.

  It was frantic and ravenous.

  It was that moment a single spark became an uncontrollable blaze, capable of taking out an entire forest in a matter of minutes.

  We were that blaze.

  And I never wanted to run out of oxygen.

  “Where are we going?” Killian asked for the second time since leaving the house.

  It was a beautiful spring day in Fremont. The air was slightly crisp, making the sun feel like a warm blanket resting along your shoulders.

  “Out!” I laughed. “Let me guess. You were one of those kids who peeked under the Christmas tree, weren’t you?”

  He grinned. “No. I was one of those kids who completely unwrapped the presents and played with them while my parents were out and then expertly rewrapped them before they got home.”

  My jaw dropped as I continued to drive toward our destination. “That’s—”

  “Smart?” he said. “Now, you’re wishing you’d thought of it, aren’t you?”

  I shook my head, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. “You’re horrible.”

  “That’s not what you said this morning. Or last night or—”

  “Okay, maybe not horrible. Definitely sneaky though. Remind me to hide all gifts from you in the future.” />
  I waited for his playful response, something I knew he couldn’t resist.

  But it never came.

  “Killian, are you all right?” I asked, stealing a glance in his direction.

  He was staring out the passenger window, quiet and reserved.

  “What?” he replied almost immediately, turning toward me. “Sorry. Tired.”

  “No problem. Do you want to know where we’re going?” I asked, hoping that would bring him back from wherever he’d just traveled to.

  He smiled, a ghost of his normal ear-to-ear grin. “No. Surprise me.”

  “Okay.”

  I left him to his thoughts for the rest of the drive while I concentrated on the road. It didn’t take long to get there, but it was a scenic few miles, and I hoped Killian enjoyed it while he silently sat next to me, running his hand over mine.

  I’d barely pulled up to the parking lot before I heard the groan.

  “You must really have it in for me,” he said, looking around the small harbor.

  “Why?” I laughed.

  “Because this is not how you introduce a New Yorker to seaside living. Take me out on a cruise, let me drive a fast car down a twisty road. But this?” he said, looking around at the kayaks and canoes rentals I’d set my sights on. “This is like tossing me in headfirst into a tidal wave.”

  I grinned. “Are you scared?”

  “Of drowning? A little.”

  Laughing, I stepped out of the car, waiting for him to do the same. He did. Eventually. I could see the hesitation in his eyes but also a healthy dose of anticipation.

  He was curious.

  “It’s a kayak, and that”—I pointed to the bay— “is just water.”

  “Says the girl who has probably been kayaking since she was ten.”

  “Five,” I corrected. “But it’s been a few years, so I’m rusty.”

  “We’re going to die.”

  I grabbed his hand. “Come on. Let me teach you something for a change.”

  His gaze settled on mine. “Deal.”

  We headed toward the office, hand in hand, before he suddenly stopped me.

  “But, in the event that we do die——or I die, rather—could you make sure my headstone is properly engraved? I want it to say, Here lies Killian Townes, Expert Lovemaker to Katelyn O’Malley.”

  Laughing, I replied, “I will make it so. But I’ll need to know some other important information.”

  “Such as?”

  “Your birthday,” I replied before realizing what I’d just said. “I don’t even know your birthday, Killian!”

  “It’s March fifteenth,” he said nonchalantly, as if he’d told me the sky was blue or that grass was in fact green.

  “That was last week!” I nearly shouted.

  “Yep.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?”

  “We weren’t really speaking last week,” he explained. “I was too busy being an idiot, and you—”

  “I was dating Brian.”

  He grinned. “Right.”

  “We have to celebrate!” I demanded. “Tonight!”

  “It’s really not necessary,” he said. “It’s just a birthday. It’s not important.”

  I looked around, the birds chirping around us as people went on their normal business. “Look at that guy over there, walking his dog.” I pointed.

  Killian followed the direction of my hand to a young guy, around our age. Medium build with light-blond hair, wearing a pair of board shorts. He was the quintessential West Coast beach bum.

  “If I told you his birthday was today, you’d probably shrug and say something like, That’s nice. Then, you’d go on with your day. But, to someone, the birth of that man is the most amazing thing that’s ever happened. Maybe it’s his mom. Maybe it’s his boyfriend. Who knows? But, to someone, somewhere, it’s not just another birthday. It’s a miracle.”

  “Are you saying, I’m your miracle, Kate?” he asked, his fingers reaching up to brush the hair from my face.

  “Yes, maybe,” I replied sheepishly. “And I want to celebrate the day you came into this world.”

  He smiled down at me with warmth. “Okay. But you’d better do it fast. I hear there’s a crazy woman out there, intent on killing me with a kayak.”

  I laughed, pulling him the rest of the way toward the rental office.

  “I look fucking ridiculous,” Killian said after stepping out of the makeshift dressing room.

  I turned, taking a quick glance.

  That quick glance turned into one long head-to-toe eye-gawker as I was reminded of how lucky I truly was.

  “No, definitely not ridiculous,” I said as I took in his lean, muscular frame, now only covered in a pair of hip-hugging board shorts.

  “Are you sure? Because I feel like I’m really pushing some sort of age limit here.”

  I took a step forward, running my hand down his smooth chest. “Your body definitely disagrees.”

  “Yours doesn’t look half bad either,” he growled, placing a possessive hand around my waist.

  I’d done a little shopping of my own, forgoing all the boring bathing suits I had at home for something a little sexier.

  A bikini.

  It wasn’t my first by any means, but it had been years since I shared this much skin with the rest of the world.

  And it felt good.

  “I’m going to go pay for our stuff,” I said, grabbing the swim shoes he’d picked out.

  “No, let me,” he said, pulling me back.

  “My idea, my treat.”

  “Kate”—his voice was somewhere between a plea and a demand— “let me do this.”

  I wanted to argue. I wanted to insist.

  But, instead, I simply nodded, allowing him to charge everything to his credit card when I had enough money in the bank to buy this entire store without breaking a sweat.

  I knew I’d eventually have to tell him.

  I knew I’d have to reveal that side of me.

  The other me.

  But, for now, I just wanted to be me. Just me. Because, when I did tell him—and I would—there was no guarantee I’d ever be the same person to him that I was in this moment.

  And I wasn’t ready to give that up.

  “Ready?” he asked after finishing up at the register.

  I nodded, reaching for the swim shoes I’d thrown in at the last minute.

  We headed out to the docks and met one of the staff members, who checked our receipt and handed us the equipment.

  Killian’s face grew bleaker with each passing minute.

  “You’ll be fine,” I promised as we buckled our life jackets. “Besides, sharks rarely swim up this far north anyway.”

  I gave the staff member a quick wink, making him chuckle. He helped us into the kayak and gave us each a paddle.

  We were on our own.

  Too bad we couldn’t steer worth crap.

  “Killian,” I said, “you need to row with me. Watch what I do.”

  He did, and after a few minutes, he managed to get a teensy bit better. We’d at least made some progress, and we were now a safe distance from land.

  “Wait until I get you in my city, babe,” he said behind me as we continued to row along the harbor.

  “I can’t wait!” I replied even though I had no idea when that would be. The idea of getting on a plane made me nauseous, and I wasn’t sure he’d want to drive all the way across the country.

  “I’ve always wanted to see the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty and—”

  “That’s not New York.” He shook his head.

  “Those are locations in New York, are they not?”

  “Sure, but that stuff is for tourists.”

  “And I would be?”

  “An honored guest.”

  “An honored guest who wants to see the Statue of Liberty,” I argued. “Come on! I’ve been to New York once when I visited Jane at her home during our sophomore year, and she did the same thing. She di
dn’t want to be caught dead at the Empire State Building with all those fanny-pack-carrying tourists.”

  “What the hell is a fanny pack?” he asked, causing me to stop rowing.

  “How could you grow up in the nineties and not know what a fanny pack is?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I’m a dude.”

  “Fair enough. Fanny packs are those horrible purselike things people wear around their hips. I seem to remember my mom having a hot-pink one when I was little. Jane considers it a personal insult to the institute of fashion.”

  “So, it’s not on her list of must-haves then?”

  I laughed. “Definitely not.”

  “Well, I guess, if my girl wants to see the Empire State Building, I should be the one to take her. I mean, I can’t guarantee I won’t be wearing a fanny pack though. They sound ingenious.”

  Turning, I splashed water at him with my hand. “And the Statue of Liberty.”

  He shook his head, water going everywhere. “Only if, afterward, I can show you what real pizza tastes like.”

  “Fine.”

  A wolfish grin spread across his face. “And hot dogs? I know the perfect place. But you have to order it the way I do.”

  “And how’s that?” I asked just before he splashed me back. Water ran down my face, soaking my bikini top.

  “I can’t tell you now. You won’t want to wait.”

  “No offense,” I said, his eyes watching my every move, “but I’ve never been too keen on hot dogs.”

  “That’s because you’ve never had a good one.”

  I didn’t think either of us was paying any attention to the conversation anymore. All our focus had been deferred to each other’s hands. Any tiny movement would cause me to tense up, ready to either defend myself or prepare myself for a heated water battle.

  “A good hot dog?” I asked, seeing his hand shake.

  “Right.”

  We both struck at the same time, launching our attacks in perfect succession. I laughed as my face was pelted with water, but still, I kept going, splashing him without letting up.

  “Oh my gosh! No!” I cried out, giggling, as the kayak rocked from our flirtatious play.

  “Had enough?” he shouted.

  “Never!” I yelled, turning my head from the onslaught of water.

  I thought I was getting an edge. That was, until the kayak capsized, and we ended up in the harbor.