The Best Mistake of Her Life

by Aimee Carson

  And then his hand began to drift lower.

  But she burned for more than just his fingers. “I want—”

  As expected, the first second he touched her between the legs, pleasure flared. She instinctively arched, allowing him better access. The following second, his fingers skillfully began to tease her into wanting more. Which was hysterical, not to mention totally unnecessary, because on the third second she came.

  With a burst of bottle rockets, fiery sparkles of heat shot to every corner of her body, leaving little sizzles fizzling in their wake, her limbs warm and heavy and limp.

  Heart pounding, soul singing, she closed her eyes and whispered, “I told you.”

  “It might have something to do with the months trying to make do in sexual solitary confinement.”

  Talk was the last thing on her mind, especially this discussion.

  Several moments passed before Memphis spoke again. “Kate,” he murmured. When she lifted her lids, his gaze was close. “Did you think about our time together during those nights you spent satisfying yourself?”

  “Sometimes,” she said.

  Always.

  His eyes were a disturbingly burn-the-roof-of-your-mouth melted caramel. “Show me.”

  Her mind balked. “I can’t—”

  Memphis took her hand and slid it down between her legs. Fingers pressed over hers, he began to apply the same skill as before, but it was difficult to tell where she began and he ended. Warmth swamped her body and moisture flooded her center as the pleasure climbed higher, until her body screamed for a more satisfying contact.

  “Memphis,” she said, her voice breathless. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”

  Elbow propped on the floor beside her head, their laced fingers caressing her clitoris, Memphis thrust deep between her legs.

  The sensation was profound, much more than physical. For the first time in she couldn’t remember when, she didn’t feel so alone. This man knew her better than anyone—even those she loved the most.

  Their entwined fingers and locked hips began to move together, establishing an agonizingly sensual rhythm. It was impossible not to drift between the delicious memory of their night long ago, the months of fantasies and the even better here and now—his hard body, the firm plane of chest muscles shifting beautifully with his efforts. Their contact limited to their laced fingers and their rocking hips, the coordinated movements created an intensity that was clearly meant as an attempt to compensate for all the nights she’d spent trying to get by alone.

  In the end he might have wanted to draw it out, to take it slow and allow her time to savor the moment. Whether it was the cries of encouragement coming from her mouth that changed his mind, or the intensity of his own need that drove him forward, it didn’t matter. Either way, his thrusts became rough. Urgent. And deep. The desire burning so completely that each cell in her body unfurled, opened, as if spreading wide to accept every ounce of pleasure.

  And accept she did, until the heat flared so bright and hot that she came, enveloping her in a blissful blaze that ultimately consumed them both.

  The pounding slowly penetrated his consciousness, and, for a moment, Memphis thought the knocking in his head was because he’d had too much to drink. But that had to be wrong, because he could count on one hand the times he’d indulged enough to be hung over. He stirred, momentarily confused. Because if he hadn’t had too much to drink, why the aches and pains? Struggling to throw off the lasts remnants of sleep, he took in the carpet beneath him, the blanket over him, and the soft skin of a female body snuggled against him from behind.

  Kate.

  Suddenly the sore muscles made sense. Memphis sat up, and Kate stirred in her sleep. Careful not to wake her, he disentangled his legs from hers and glanced around the living room. After he’d made love to her in the bedroom, he’d set out to fulfill her wish, starting with the first floor. They’d made it through three rooms before finally slipping into an exhausted sleep. His lips curled at the memory and he glanced down at Kate, golden hair fanning across the face relaxed in slumber, the scent of lavender lingering in the air. Her lovely naked body was exposed from the waist up, the afghan covering the rest. And judging by the height of the sun at the window, they’d slept late. Memphis was about to pull the blanket away and resume where they’d left off when the pounding came again.

  Someone with a persistent hand was at the front door. Hoping the thumping wouldn’t wake Kate, Memphis located a second afghan hanging over a chair and wrapped it around his waist, knotting it in the front.

  He padded barefoot across the marble floor and pulled open the massive front door, intent on hurrying the interloper away. And then he spied the offending party.

  Kate’s brother looked as surprised to see Memphis as Memphis was to see him.

  “Brian,” Memphis said, for lack of anything intelligent to say.

  His friend blinked, taking in the rose-colored afghan wrapped around Memphis’s waist and then his hair, which was probably standing on end from the number of times Kate had threaded her fingers through it, bringing his head back to her mouth. Or her breast. Or whichever delicious body part he happened to be tending to at the time.

  The blank look on Brian’s face could have meant anything, and Memphis was beginning to wonder if Kate’s brother was going to deck him. And then Brian’s expression morphed into a mix of discomfort, doubt and a trace of humor.

  “You up for a conversation?” Brian said.

  Memphis swiped a hand over his unruly hair. “Coffee,” he said, his voice rough, awkward, like the rest of him. “As long as I get coffee first.” Though given the situation he hardly needed the extra caffeine jolt.

  “Then how about we take this discussion to the kitchen?” Brian said.

  Memphis held the door open, and his friend stepped inside. Conscious of Kate sleeping just a room away, Memphis crossed back to quietly pull the living room door closed, praying Brian hadn’t caught a glimpse of his sister sleeping on the floor.

  He needn’t have worried. Because when Memphis turned around he found Brian standing in the middle of the foyer, gazing up the staircase, a look of profound surprise on his face.

  The gazillion-thread-count shirt was still draped over the railing. A few steps higher, his pants were piled in a heap. Kate’s bra had landed on the massive foyer chandelier that hung from the second-floor ceiling, the scrap of lace dangling alongside the crystal teardrops. But the worst visual of all was the shattered picture that lay facedown on the stairs, fragments of glass littering the steps below.

  Awkward instantly upgraded to problematic, and Memphis cleared his throat. “I assume you want coffee, too.”

  “Yes.” Brian shot another glance up the stairs. “Or perhaps a tranquilizer.” He raised an eyebrow at Memphis. “Should we be calling the police about a break-in?”

  “Not necessary,” Memphis said gruffly as he headed down the foyer toward the kitchen, desperate to move past the telltale scene and into safer rooms. “I’ll get the coffee started and then go throw on some clothes.”

  “Or …” Brian leaned down and picked up the silk dress that had been tossed from the second floor. “You could put on this.” Memphis narrowed his eyes in response, but Brian didn’t have the decency to move along. Kate’s brother simply hiked a brow and said, “It couldn’t be any more demeaning than your rose-colored afghan with flowers.”

  Eyeing him warily, Memphis paused, his lips twisting. “I imagine you have more to say than critiquing my current state of attire.”

  Brian let out a soft scoff, a cross between a confirmation of the understatement and reluctant amusement. He nodded in the direction of the staircase. “Go throw on your clothes while I start the coffee.”

  Ten minutes later, and a lot more suitably dressed, Memphis entered the massive kitchen done in stainless steel and dark wood, the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the air.

  Brian set the carafe on the center island, chic, stainless-steel bar stools lin
ing either side. “I’ll get the cream and sugar,” he said. “You grab the mugs.”

  Mugs.

  Memphis stared blankly at the wall of mahogany cabinets to his left, assuming that one of them contained the requested items, but having no idea which one.

  There was another awkward pause, until Brian spoke from behind. “You know,” Brian said. “When I told you to be nice to Kate, this wasn’t what I envisioned. And I’m not sure I like the fact you spent the night with my sister but don’t have a clue where she keeps her coffee cups.”

  Memphis turned to look at Brian, who was giving him a mildly teasing look, but packed in there was a whole load of potential for seriousness.

  “I didn’t realize knowledge of the layout of a kitchen was a prerequisite for involvement with the owner of the house,” Memphis said.

  Brian’s brow furrowed. “It is when the owner of the house is my sister.” He nodded to his left. “First cabinet on the end.”

  Memphis fetched two mugs and returned, taking a seat across from Brian at the center island. “Kate’s a grown woman,” Memphis said as Brian poured the coffee.

  “Hell,” Brian said as he set the pot down. “I know that.”

  Memphis sipped the black coffee, eyeing Brian over the rim of his mug.

  “And it’s not like we’re strangers,” Memphis went on. He wasn’t ashamed of his actions, and he sure didn’t feel the need to explain himself. But Brian was his friend and Kate’s brother, and as such the man deserved the courtesy of being allowed to voice his concerns. “We’ve known each other since I was thirteen.”

  “Dude,” Brian said, his mug suspended in midair, halfway to his mouth. “I was there, remember?” Brian held his gaze for a moment before he said, “That’s not what’s bothering me.”

  “So what is?”

  Brian heaved out a breath. “Honestly? I think it’s fairly obvious. She’s at a really vulnerable time in her life, and I’m worried she’ll get hurt,” he said.

  Memphis struggled to suppress his amusement at the irony. Ultimately, if anyone was at risk of coming up on the losing end, it was him. He pushed aside the disturbing thought and sipped his coffee as Brian went on.

  “She’s already been through the wringer, Memphis. Dalton and Kate had had their ups and downs but things seemed to improve for a while.” Brian’s brow lowered. “And then the bastard dumped her right after the election.”

  Memphis choked on his coffee, his coughing fit filling the air as he struggled to rein in his surprise. After finally recovering, he carefully set his mug down. That Kate hadn’t come clean about her night with Memphis all those years ago wasn’t a shock. That she’d kept the truth about her marriage from her family was.

  Why hadn’t she told Brian about the extended separation?

  “She keeps saying the sudden decision was mutual, but I think she’s just protecting Dalton,” Brian said. “And if you hurt her I’ll feel obligated to throw you off of an eighty-story building, Memphis. Minus the cable,” he added pointedly. “With no air bag.”

  “Brian—”

  “You’re not around as much as I’d like,” Brian went on, and the familiar guilt lurched in Memphis’s chest. “But you’re still my best friend. And I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

  “Well,” Memphis said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I don’t want you throwing me off an eighty-story building, either.”

  “Good,” Brian said. “So we’re both in agreement.”

  “One hundred percent.” He held Brian’s gaze, and the message he saw there left him uneasy. “What exactly did we just agree on?”

  Brian’s forehead crinkled with vague amusement. “That Kate isn’t ready for another relationship yet,” Brian said. “And she definitely isn’t ready for one with a man who’s just blowing through town.” He lifted both eyebrows. “And don’t even get me started on the problem with my parents.”

  Inside, Memphis flinched from the hit that knocked him harder than a one-hundred-foot fall.

  Brian shook his head softly. “You know how I feel about you, bro.”

  “Yeah,” Memphis said gruffly. He did. Guilt rolled through him, because he didn’t deserve the man’s dedication. Not after the accident, and not for remaining silent about his sister’s marriage. But Kate’s story wasn’t his to tell. He cleared his throat. “I feel the same way about you.”

  “My relationship with my parents has improved over the years,” Brian said. “But their opinion of you hasn’t changed. And Kate’s still their favorite child.” He leaned forward, his gaze one part apology and one part warning. “She won’t be disappointing them.”

  Memphis gripped his coffee mug, the muscle in his jaw clenching hard. “Well,” he said, forcing his fingers to release the handle. He never would have gotten entangled with the woman if she hadn’t shown signs of maturing beyond the dutiful daughter who had been too obedient to stand up for herself. “I think I’ll let Kate make her own decisions.”

  He just hoped to hell he hadn’t overestimated how much Kate Anderson had changed.

  The tantalizing smell of coffee lured Kate from the living room, but the sound of voices coming from the kitchen stopped her in her tracks.

  Memphis.

  Brian.

  Good God. She clutched the blanket tighter around her shoulders, stumped as to what to do next. Her hair was a knotted mass of tangles, and the fabulous night with Memphis had left the faint residue of physical exertion on her skin. She needed a quick shower, some clean clothes and to regain some semblance of dignity before facing the two men in her kitchen.

  As she turned to head upstairs she spied the shattered picture frame and her dangling bra. Groaning, she came to a stop, a heated flush of embarrassment washing over her. The blatant evidence of her assertive behavior was bad enough, but the bright light of day made it even worse.

  Memphis would never let her live this down.

  All she wanted was a cup of coffee and a few minutes alone to recover from the huge step she’d taken last night. Unfortunately, the two men chatting in her kitchen prevented both. As if the messy morning after wasn’t awkward enough, she had to endure it with an audience.

  Flustered, she cleaned the mess as best she could, frustrated she couldn’t retrieve the bra from the chandelier without getting the ladder from the garage. And there was no way she could do that without drawing the attention of the men, so she was forced to leave the undergarment dangling like a banner broadcasting just how hard she’d come undone.

  Fifteen minutes later, blessedly clean from her shower and dressed in crop pants and a tailored crepe de chine blouse, Kate entered the kitchen as coolly as she could. As if wild abandoned sex with the world’s hottest man happened every day. Maybe she’d get lucky and no one would comment.

  “Good to see you, Kate,” her brother said dryly. “Sleep well?”

  “About time you woke up,” Memphis said, his voice a sexy rumble that should have been illegal, even without her brother’s presence.

  Warmth seeping into her every cell, she smoothed her hand down her blouse and rounded the center island to kiss her brother on the cheek. “Nice of you to drop by, Brian.” She cast an awkward glance at Memphis and caught the amused light in his eyes. A kiss-on-the-cheek greeting for him would have been ludicrous at this point. Feeling a need to keep her hands busy, and her back to the two men, she loaded the few items from the sink into the dishwasher. “What’s the occasion, big brother?”

  He was older than her by two minutes, and normally she loved Brian’s company, but today, hurrying him out was the best way to go. She needed to have a discussion with Memphis, and it was the kind her brother really shouldn’t be around for. Why was Brian here?

  And even more importantly … how long would it take to get him to leave?

  “I stopped by because I didn’t want you to hear the bad news from someone else,” Brian said.

  Bad news.

  Kate’s chest tightened a touch, making her heart w
ork a little bit harder. Her gaze zeroed in on her brother, and she could sense Memphis’s sudden attention as well as he sat up higher in his seat.

  Struggling to remain calm, she picked up the spoon Brian had used to stir his coffee and placed it in the dishwasher. “Which bad news would that be?” Kate said, holding her breath.

  Brian pursed his lips. “It might be easier to show you.”

  As if preparing for the event, Kate’s heart shifted lower in her chest as Brian crossed to her laptop on the kitchen counter. He carried it over, setting it on the marble-topped center island.

  Brian tapped a few keys on the keyboard, and the high-school-reunion website came into view. Kate’s heart sank a little lower.

  She had a feeling she knew what would come next. “If this is about—”

  The high-school picture of her and Dalton popped onto the page, cutting off her words. Kate stared at the image of her in the ridiculous tiara next to Dalton in his matching crown. His and hers coronets. The smiles on their faces were brilliant, despite the silly headgear, and for a moment the feelings rolled through her. It had, without a doubt, been the happiest moment of her life. Even on the day of her wedding she’d had a vague feeling of unease. But she’d passed that off as prenuptial jitters.

  And how sad was it that her life had peaked in high school?

  She sucked in a breath. Dear God, let it not be a continual downhill slide from here. “I already heard about the picture, Brian.”

  “But have you seen the comments?” her brother said.

  Comments.

  Kate pressed her thumb and forefinger to her forehead, hoping the hints at a pounding headache weren’t a promise of things to come. The stupid website, a maneuver she’d considered a necessary addition to the reunion preparations, was beginning to be the bane of her existence. The committee had considered it a fabulous move. Mostly the site was fabulous at being a meeting place for those community members who’d wished to carry on a discussion about her and Dalton, usually precipitated by the tabloid headlines.