by Shayla Black
“What are you doing here? I didn’t expect you home for another week.”
I whirl around to find Bas standing at the end of the hall, wearing a T-shirt and boxers. His hair looks mussed, and he’s wearing a scowl.
“What are you doing here?” I glance at my watch. “And why do you look like you’ve already gone to bed when it’s only eight o’clock?”
Bas scowls. “Last night, my toilet started leaking about midnight. I was bailing water until the plumber finally showed up a little after eight, so I’m freaking tired. I needed a place to crash while my place airs out, and you weren’t supposed to be home for another week. I didn’t think you’d mind. Why aren’t you in Maui?”
Long fucking story. But is putting my best friend off even an option? “It’s complicated.”
Bas yawns and pads into my living room, tossing himself across the sofa. “Well, I managed a couple of hours of sleep, so I’m all yours. Start talking.”
“I’d rather not. Go back to bed.” I prop my suitcase against the wall and set down my briefcase with a sigh.
“Well, I’d rather not see you sulk because something’s wrong that caused you to cut your vacation with your new family and your new girlfriend short. And…based on your expression, the family isn’t the problem.”
“No.”
He rears back. “Are you and Nia still together?”
I sit at the end of the sofa and sigh tiredly. “I seriously don’t want to talk about it.”
My best friend is silent for a long minute. He bobs his head like he agrees and respects my privacy. But this is Bas we’re talking about. He doesn’t give two shits about privacy or boundaries or personal space.
“You must have seriously fucked up if you’re on the outs with a woman who’s totally in love with you.”
That sends my gaze whipping over to him. “How did you know her feelings?”
But obviously he did, way before I did.
He rolls his eyes. “I’d ask if you’re kidding but I know better. Dude, she offered to organize your life. She slept with you when she had a million reasons not to. She agreed to go with you over a major holiday to meet your family. She looks at you like she’s head over heels. And you didn’t figure that out?”
“I can figure out how to keep personal data stored safely, protected from hackers wielding every code and virus known to man, yet completely internet accessible.” I shake my head. “I can’t figure out how the woman’s mind operates.”
Bas braces his elbows on his knees. “She wants to get married and you don’t?”
“The opposite, actually. I would marry her today. She only wants to get married if I can tell her I love her.”
“Hmm. And you don’t?”
“I loved Becca.”
“Who’s now gone,” he says as if that’s obvious.
“A heart isn’t something you give twice. Once you’ve given it away, it’s gone.”
Bas laughs. “Why the hell would you believe that?”
“Because it’s true,” I bite out at his ridicule. “I don’t expect you to understand. You probably think you’re in love all the time and—”
“I don’t. Lust? Yes,” he concedes. “I was in love once. It didn’t work out. She was married and I respected that. I had a good man cry about the fact she’d never be mine, then I told myself to move on. I’ve fucked around a lot to distract myself, I admit. But eventually, I’ll fall in love again. I’ll never love that woman less, but I’m ready to find someone new to fill my heart.”
This is the first I’m hearing of Bas believing he was attached. “Who were you in love with?”
“Does it matter? It didn’t work out. But the pain of losing her isn’t stopping me from looking. If the right woman comes along at the right time, I’ll happily give her my heart. I’m on the downhill slide to thirty, man. I’d like to hope that’s going to be soon. But even if it takes until I’m eighty to fall in love again, I’ll wait. It’s worth it.”
“Why? It can bring a lot of pain.”
“It can also bring a fuck-ton of happiness. Look at it this way: If you didn’t have people in your life, what would you have?”
I frown. “My business. My…hobbies.”
Then I fall silent because I can’t think of anything else.
“You’d have shit. You’d have meetings and balance sheets, taxes, paperwork, and strategic plans. In between all that…what hobbies? You’d have meals and errands, maybe a favorite TV show or two, a few meaningless lays when you could manage to pry yourself away from the office and scrape together a little charm at a local bar or do some random swiping right. You wouldn’t even have painting since I’ll bet you stopped doing that months ago. Am I wrong?”
I don’t say a word because I’m stunned by how right he is.
“It would be empty as shit,” he goes on. “Believe me, I know.”
Something bleak in his eyes tells me he’s not lying.
“What are you saying?”
“You want the short version?”
“Yes.” Sitting in the semi-dark with my best friend in his underwear and talking about hearts and love just isn’t very manly.
“Give love a try again. It’s right in front of you. Don’t piss it away.”
“Like I already said, I can’t give my heart twice. So why aren’t friendship, commitment, and fidelity enough for Nia?”
Bas sighs. “I should have known the short version wouldn’t convince you since you need logic for every fucking conclusion, even an emotional one.”
“That’s not a bad thing.”
“In business, no. But that won’t work with emotions. It’s as if you’re determined to treat love like a science experiment. You seem to have some hypothesis about love being a singular event. You get involved with Nia and stir the beaker a little, then start recording her reactions, studying the data and making comparisons so you can draw conclusions. Dude, no. She’s a different woman than Becca. Nothing is going to be the same. Hell, you’re not the same.”
I want to refute him. And I can’t. On some level, I’ve assumed that, because my relationship with Nia isn’t like the one I shared with Becca it can’t be love. But I didn’t take into account the variables, like the fact that my control samples are totally different.
Sitting back, I regard him with a solemn stare.
“And the kicker is…” He shakes his head as if he’s reluctant. “Never mind.”
“No. I’m listening.” Because I suspect he’s on to something.
“You’ll just get pissed off. So, let’s talk about something else. I’ve been doing some digging into Lund, trying to figure out why he has such a hard-on to buy Stratus, but I’ve hit a brick wall, so—”
“We’ll get back to that. But first I want to know what you won’t tell me.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Jesus.” I want to throttle him. “I do or I wouldn’t be asking you.”
He pauses. “I guess you’d only be asking me if you’re actually listening. All right. Here’s the truth: You didn’t love Becca.”
Gritting my teeth in fury, I jump to my feet. “That’s bullshit.”
“No, it’s not. I watched you two for years. She was your friendly helpmate. You were her savior. She respected you. You relied on her. But that’s it. And that’s not love.”
“You don’t know the first fucking thing—”
“How often did you and Becca have sex?”
“That’s a low blow. You know she had a lot of personal demons to overcome and—”
“How often?”
I rake a hand through my hair. “Maybe every couple of weeks. It always took her time to…deal with it.”
“Uh-huh. And did you want it more? Feel desperate when you couldn’t have her?”
“Sex isn’t the only measure of love.” I don’t know why I’m so defensive.
“It’s a fucking big one. Compare that to the way you want Nia. Think about how much you crave her when you can’t have her.”
His logic punches me in the gut. I can’t breathe. For a moment, I’m stunned and disoriented.
“If not love, what do you think I felt for Becca?”
“Responsibility and guilt. I’m not saying you didn’t like her. She took care of your life. Hell, she was able to put up with you. And you were faithful to her for months after she died. There was nothing wrong with that. It’s commendable. You weren’t unhappy with her. But look me in the face and tell me that being with Nia isn’t somehow brighter, more intense. Like the difference between flipping on a light and sticking your finger in a socket. Like staring at the sun and being willing to go blind for the privilege because you can’t not look at her.”
No, he’s right. His words seem to have unraveled the tourniquet around my perception. Suddenly, I see my marriage from a completely different perspective.
I’ve missed what Becca did for me. I’ve missed the space she filled beside me. Have I actually once missed her yoga pants hanging from the shower door? Or the way she used a whole bag of oranges to squeeze her juice every Sunday? Have I even missed the way she’d curl up to me after having a nightmare about her foster father? If I’m being brutally honest, no. I haven’t kept her possessions because I’m loath to let my last vestiges of her go. I’ve kept them because I haven’t wanted to admit I’m alone and I haven’t wanted to expend the energy to make that even more obvious.
“So you think I still have my heart to give…and that I should give it to Nia?”
Bas shakes his head. “I think you had your heart to give until a few weeks ago, but it’s Nia’s now. But you should stop trying to put labels on what you two have and just go with it.”
“Go with it?” I raise a brow at him. “You’ve met me, haven’t you? You know I’m not good at that.”
He laughs. “Yeah, you suck. But here’s the thing: If you keep fucking around with this, trying to name it and figure out how it fits in your practical view of the world, she’s going to slip through your fingers. Then I think you’ll grieve the loss of a woman for the first time because she won’t come back. Then, you’re right, there might not be any recovering. And you really will spend the rest of your fucking life alone.”
As I march up Nia’s walkway, the icy rain pours, sluicing down my face and seeping into my clothes. I really don’t care. I hit the button of the fob of my sedan, drag the suitcase I didn’t even bother to unpack, and start pounding on her front door.
“Nia! I need to talk to you.”
The whole drive over, I considered what Sebastian said, pondered the probability that he’s right. Am I in love with Nia and I’ve been too blind to see it? I need more time with her to know for sure, but the concept no longer feels impossible.
Mostly because I’m beginning to suspect he’s also right about the fact I didn’t love Becca.
That fills me with guilt. Shame. I’m an asshole for that, right? My wife devoted her life to me, and I didn’t give her even half of myself. As least I know now why I would rather have been with Nia than Becca on Thanksgiving Day. I also know why my sex drive has been in hyper mode since I first touched the assistant I should have left at a professional distance. And I definitely know why I challenge Nia and her feelings, rather than simply placating her. They matter. She matters.
How the fuck did I not see any of this?
Suddenly, she opens the door. She’s wearing a berry-colored pajama top and a coordinating pair of floral pants that are far more practical than sexy, but at the sight of her, instant need fires through my blood.
Nia gasps at me. “Oh, my god. Come in. It’s got to be freezing out there, and you’re soaking wet.”
I step inside and shut the door. “I had to see you.”
“I’m just making a cup of Bangkok tea. Do you want some?”
I don’t even know what that is, but I don’t care. “No. I want you.”
She studies me, and something shifts on her face. “Let me get you a towel and—”
When she turns away, I grab her arm and haul her back against me. I’m drenching her clothes and dripping on her floor. I’m invading her space. It’s impulsive and impractical. Probably unreasonable, too.
And I can’t stop.
I cup my hand around her nape and drag her face under mine. Her gaze skitters. Her lips part. Our stares meet. Then I crush her lips with my own, instantly opening her to me and claiming her with a thrust of my tongue.
For an instant, she’s shocked stiff. Then her fingers crawl up my biceps. Her arms curl around my neck. She loses herself in the kiss.
My blood goes up in flames.
As I kick off my ruined loafers, I attack the big white buttons down the front of her pajamas. I’m thanking god they seem to melt under my hands, especially when she attacks the fly of my jeans and moans.
I tear my mouth away, panting. The sofa, where I already know she’s taken another man into her body, taunts me. I also refuse to take her on her bed for the same reason. “Where can I fuck you?”
She blinks at me as if she’s trying to understand my question. As I wait impatiently for her answer, I spread the lapels of her flannel top wide.
She’s not wearing a bra.
“Too late,” I growl. “Let’s go.”
Suddenly, I know the perfect spot.
Wrapping my hands around Nia, I fill my palms with her ass and lift her against my body, seizing her mouth as I cross the room and deposit her on the counter next to the kitchen sink.
“Take off your pants,” I demand as I reach behind my head and pull my wet shirt off and dump it in the sink. I barely notice when it lands with a splat. “Now.”
Then I’m lifting her breast and bending to take her nipple in my mouth. Beneath me, she wriggles, shifting her weight from one side to the other until she’s finally shoving her pants past her knees and kicking them away.
As soon as I push the top off Nia’s shoulders, she’s naked. She’s got my fly open and her hands around my cock. We’re both breathing hard as she presses kisses across my chest. I close my eyes and groan. I want to get inside her. I want to feel her close around me. The urge is so strong. It’s not like anything I’ve ever felt.
Bas’s words float through my head. Being with Nia really is like sticking my finger in a light socket—in a good way. She lights me up, makes me feel alive.
“I didn’t think you’d be back so soon,” she murmurs. “After the way we left things, I worried you wouldn’t show up for days.”
I shake my head, fighting to find words as she gives my length another heated stroke. “Need you too much.”
“Condom?” she asks.
Fuck. “In my suitcase.”
“Mine are on the other side of the house. Can you wait?”
I know the practical, responsible answer. But… “No.”
Surprisingly, her lips curl up in a smile. Then she gives my chest a little shove and hops off the counter, onto her feet.
Instant denial flares through me as I grab her wrist. “Don’t go.”
If she leaves me, even for thirty seconds, I won’t make it. It sounds ridiculously melodramatic, but my breath is heaving, my heart thudding. It’s as if my whole body is a live wire. More electrical pulses are frying my brain and melting my defenses. I need Nia to take the surge and ground me before I overload.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she promises as she brushes a kiss across my mouth.
Then she drops to her knees.
I barely have time to gape and process the new charge to my revving heart before Nia’s tongue flicks around the head of my cock, then she slips my crest between her lips.
The hot velvet of her mouth has me groaning in an instant. I stiffen and try to process all the pleasure she’s giving me. Before I can, her lips purse tighter around me and she sucks me deeper. It’s a scalding, silken paradise.
Then I feel my tip at the back of her throat and her tongue cradling my shaft. She hums, digging her nails into my ass. When did she shove my pants around m
y ankles? I don’t know. I don’t care. All I know is that, as she glides her pretty, pouty mouth up my length, my only imperative is to nudge her back down until she takes all of me.
I slip my hands in her hair, grabbing tight fistfuls at the crown, and push. She doesn’t panic or protest or cry. Not Nia. She complies with a hearty moan and engulfs even more of my cock in her mouth, then swallows slowly when I bottom out.
“Jesus…” I mutter, feeling conscious control slip away in a matter of seconds.
Around me, she whimpers, the sound becoming a crescendo as I start ruthlessly fucking the back of her throat.
The sensations are a revelation, like the videos of those color-blind people wearing specialized glasses for the first time that allow them to truly see. Feeling Nia take every wild pump of my hips as my dick shuttles past her lips, over her tongue, and deeper than I imagined is completely blowing my mind…and unraveling my body. I both love and hate that she knows exactly what to do to dismantle my composure and drive me to climax.
Her firm hand wraps around the base of my shaft, sliding up and down with her mouth. Her tongue wraps all around me. The gentle nip of teeth slides over my sensitive crest before she takes me deep enough to feel her swallow again.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
“Oh, we will. Eventually,” she taunts before she cups my balls and licks the underside of my shaft before taking me impossibly deeper.
I grip the edge of the sink, my body pulsing with energy. My toes grip the tile floor. I’m trying like hell to stay upright. My knees feel like melted butter. The higher my pleasure climbs, the more my head spins. When her cheeks hollow out, blood pounds through my veins. My heartbeat hammers like I’m a drummer on speed. My skin feels too tight. I’m going up in flames, burning to death. And I don’t give two shits. As long as Nia doesn’t stop…
Her breathing turns harsh. I can feel her willing my ecstasy as she digs her nails deeper into me with one hand and gently tugs on my testicles with the other. As those sensations rack up, she nips at me again, then sucks me deep and performs some maneuver where I swear I feel the head of my cock slip past her throat and…
Holy hell. I’m done for. I can’t stop bellowing for breath, can’t stop the electricity from boiling my blood, liquefying my veins, lighting up every nerve ending in my body. I tense. My balls feel tight and heavy. I swell. I turn atomic.
