by A. J. Pine
Her eyes met his in a moment of clarity, and she nodded.
“Yes, Jamie. Yes. I want this. I want you.” She clasped a hand around his wrist, directing his palm to the spot between her breasts, where the last barrier separated him from seeing her as his best friend and oh-so-much more. “You do it,” she said, and he did—flicked open that clasp and pushed the lace cups away from her skin.
Forget logic or sobriety or collecting himself because instinct and need and ten years of loving this girl took over.
He rasped out a breath as he dipped his head into the crook of her neck where he kissed and nipped. Brynn responded with a soft hum as she arched into him, pressing her breasts against his chest as his arms encircled her, and he led her to the bed.
“There are a lot of flowers in this room,” he remarked as he eyed the bedspread, the wallpaper, and even the curtains.
“Garden Cottage,” she said, pulling him down to her as she fell flat on her back.
“Noted,” he said, looming over her on all fours. “You’re perfect.”
“Jamie…”
“You’re beautiful.”
“Jamie…”
“I’m in love with you, and I just thought you should know.”
He didn’t let her respond, because he wasn’t ready to hear it either way. If she loved him, too, he supposed that would ease the tiny voice in his head that kept telling him to ask the question, like why she was heading to L.A. if that was the case. If she didn’t love him, and he knew that was a possibility, he didn’t want her to say anything she didn’t mean just to protect him. Instead he leaned down, flicked his tongue against her nipple, and then sucked. She gasped.
First her hands fisted the bedspread, but then she ran a palm up his thigh. He groaned against her as the tip of her thumb grazed his balls, aching against the denim of his jeans. She palmed his erection, and he hissed in a breath as he kissed a trail from one breast to the other, licking and nipping and sucking the left as he had the right.
Brynn’s hands worked at his button and then the zipper. She pulled the hem of his boxer briefs over his tip, swirling her finger in the wetness.
“Jesus, Brynn.” Something about all of his nicknames for her didn’t fit. Those were the endearments of a friend, but this—this wasn’t friendship. They were in undefined territory.
…
Brynn stared at the beautiful man in front of her, his blue eyes dark with need. She stroked his erection from root to tip, feeling him pulse in her palm, and she knew she loved him. This beautiful, infuriating, stubborn man who could have had her ten days ago—hell, ten years ago—if he hadn’t been so damn careful with his own heart. Didn’t he know she’d never hurt him? Didn’t he know, in one way or another, she’d loved him for more than half her life? He didn’t have to protect his heart anymore, now that he’d trusted it to her.
She was ready to tell him, the words poised to spill from her lips: I love you, too. But then he did that thing with her breast, and her brain went to mush, and she was just happy she could remember her own name. So she followed the direction of her body, letting her actions do the talking for now. There’d be time after to explain, to apologize for not knowing sooner that it was him. It was always him, and she almost let him get away.
She pushed him gently to his back and removed the rest of his clothing.
“Oh my God,” she managed, and he chuckled. “Shouldn’t you have a beer gut or something?”
She didn’t wait for an answer. Instead she sent her jeans to meet his on the floor, leaving her lace bikinis on until they were ready for that final step. She straddled him, slid up his thighs, and rubbed against his shaft until she cried out, the agony exquisite and at the same time almost too much.
Is this what sex was supposed to be like? Hadn’t she been in love before? Or was her love for Jamie what intensified the experience? The thought scared the crap out of her, but his thumb pressed on her swollenness. Her eyes rolled back, and she arched into his touch.
Jamie slipped a finger through the side of Brynn’s panties and plunged inside her. She gasped and slid to her side next to him, giving him a more advantageous angle and sending her very near to the edge.
She faced him, stroked him again, and he crushed his lips to hers. Nothing about their movements now was careful. Every touch and kiss spoke of insatiable need.
Two fingers were in her, pulsing before they slid out and around her clit. She writhed against his hand, her body begging him not to stop and at the same time lamenting that this soon would end.
“Is this really happening?” he asked in a low whisper. He entered her again, and she gasped.
“Yes,” she whimpered. “It’s real,” she added, begging him to understand what she meant, what she had yet to say. “Jamie, I…”
But he stopped her again with his mouth, the kiss deep and slow as she rode his hand until she thought she might burst at the seams.
“I’m on the pill,” she said, knowing he’d seen her swallowing the oral contraceptive last night yet never saying a word about what that meant for her intentions with Spencer. Shit. Spencer. She’d deal with that later. Right now she needed Jamie.
His fingers dove deeper, and she shuddered against him.
“Now, Jamie. For the fucking love of God, get inside me now.”
He smiled against her and slid his hand out of her panties, helping her wriggle free of them. She didn’t wait another second. Instead she straddled him and slid up his length, this time unfettered by the thin lace barrier. She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. Then she kissed him and urged him inside, buried him to the hilt, and there it was—fireworks, “I’m a Believer”—and her heart cracked wide open for the man she’d been too stupid to know she loved with every fiber of her being.
He rocked inside her, every thrust solidifying that her journey was over. She didn’t need L.A., and she wouldn’t have to adopt a litter of kittens after all.
The second thought made her laugh quietly.
“What?” he asked, his voice hoarse in her ear.
“You’re perfect,” she said.
“Brynn…”
“You’re beautiful,” she added and watched his eyes widen with recognition of what was coming next. He didn’t stop her this time. “And I’m in love with you and just thought you should know.”
She let him kiss her then, surrendered to him as he rolled her to her back, all the while keeping himself deep inside her. He plunged in and out, slow and achingly sweet, his eyes on her until they both were so close. Jamie’s movements picked up momentum, and with his thumb circling her just above where their bodies joined, he made sure she came apart both inside and out. And if the other B&B patrons had any doubt as to their supposed newlywed status, all of it was wiped away as Brynn let out one last cry, and Jamie hissed her name before collapsing against her.
He twitched inside her, and she drew in a breath. Then he brushed a curl off her cheek and pressed his lips to her forehead. All she could think was Thank the stars for crashing weddings and October rain in Amarillo.
“Fine,” Brynn finally said when she’d regained the ability to form coherent speech. “It was a lucky bouquet.”
And they both began to laugh.
Chapter Nineteen
After slipping back into his almost-dry jeans, Jamie dragged their bags in from the hallway. He’d insisted that Brynn have the first shower. With an hour before they had to show up for their “newlywed” dinner, he wanted her to take her time. Not that he hadn’t thought about joining her, but he needed some time to think.
She loved him. There was a sobering thought. She’d made her choice, and he was still wrapping his brain around the fact that it was him.
He tried to free her from the obligation of those words, only wanting her to know he wasn’t entering this situation lightly, that he’d never let happen what just happened—and, holy shit, did something happen—if he wasn’t sure how he felt about her.
He could f
orgive himself for being a scared teenager, watching what he thought was his parents’ perfect marriage dissolve in front of him and not wanting to see him and Brynn go down that road. What he couldn’t forgive was holding on to that fear for so long, doubting that he could have meant something to her then—that he meant something to her now.
Neither of his brothers had it easy on the other side. Ben and Theresa separated for six months but were trying to make it work. His mom let it slip that Denny and his wife were in counseling. He got it. Marriage was hard. But he and Brynn were only pretend married. Otherwise, what were they? What did this all mean, this loving each other at the strangest possible time? He wanted to rationalize that it would be easier for them because they were Jamie and Brynn. She was his ridiculous Sleepy Jean, belting Monkees tunes from the shower as he sat on the edge of the bed trying to make sense of it all.
His phone buzzed on the nightstand, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to spill the news to Annie if she was texting to goad him again. But when he looked at the screen, he realized it was Brynn’s phone he grabbed instead. The screen woke, and though it was locked, he could still see the first line of the text and who it was from.
Spencer: If you make it by Friday, our room is booked…
He dropped the phone back on the dresser, face down. This was way out of line. Thinking it was his phone was one thing, but reading any further was definitely another. Obviously she’d been talking to Spencer since the reunion. He couldn’t fault her for that.
He tried to swallow back a bitterness rising in his throat. But she was, after all, on her way to him. To Spencer. Who had a room booked for the two of them. Together. And Brynn was on the pill.
He shook his head and groaned.
She said she loved you, asshole.
He had to give her—them—the benefit of the doubt. She could have said what she said because of the whole about-to-orgasm thing. Shit. That would suck. But Jamie knew how he felt. If she really did love him, that text would prompt her to tell Jamie she was calling things off with Spencer and staying with him for the remainder of the trip. And then they’d go home, together, where they’d figure out the rest.
He flopped back on the bed and closed his eyes, ready to surrender to the utter physical and mental exhaustion that was this trip. When he heard the bathroom door open, he left his eyes closed, not ready to enter reality.
The bed dipped next to him, and he knew she was sitting there, but he waited. Soft lips brushed his collarbone, and he sighed, letting the tension out of his shoulders.
“This is totally weird, right?” Brynn asked, but she didn’t wait for him to answer. She just kept kissing his skin, and he thanked himself for not throwing on his shirt. “I mean, I never would have thought I’d be in Amarillo, Texas, doing what we just did…” She was kissing across his chest now, her lips and tongue pausing to pay special attention to a nipple that never saw it coming. Jamie groaned and buried a hand in her wet hair. “And wanting to do it again.”
Jamie’s eyes flew open.
“Again?”
Brynn lifted her head, her eyes meeting his. She bit her lip, smiled, and raised her brows.
“We have to be downstairs in, like, twenty minutes.”
She pressed a firm palm against his zipper. “Are you saying you don’t want to?”
Jamie glanced at her hand. “I think it’s pretty obvious I want to. But B, I haven’t even showered yet.” He couldn’t believe he was arguing the point, but these people were giving them a free room for a lie they weren’t correcting.
She stood then and untied her robe, letting it fall to the floor. Well, then. If this was how she wanted to play, he could get used to these rules.
He got up from the bed, cupped her cheeks in his hands, and teased her with a sweet kiss. Then he skimmed down the length of her body, lowering to his knees as he did.
Her breath hitched. “I was going to say we could kill two birds with one stone if you let me shower with you.”
Jamie wrapped his hands around her thighs and looked up at her startled expression.
“Oh, I’m going to let you do all sorts of things to me in the shower, but first…”
He spun her so her back was to the bed, hoping she wouldn’t be able to stand much longer. When he leaned forward and swirled his tongue around her clit, he felt her knees buckle as she fell to the mattress. Mission accomplished.
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to taste you?” he asked before his tongue plunged deep in her folds, and she writhed against him.
“Oh my God. Jamie.”
Oh my God was right. In some way he knew no other woman would measure up to what he tried not to want with her. But now that it was a reality, forget it. He was a ruined man, and he would go down in one hell of a blaze of glory as long as it was Brynn setting the fire.
And yeah, they were going to be late for dinner.
…
Thankfully, Texas time worked much differently than Chicago time. Brynn and Jamie made it to the dining room at twenty after seven, and no one was even sitting yet. As soon as he saw him, Frank handed Jamie a bottle of Shiner White Wing, and Jamie beamed at the man.
“You just made a friend for life,” Brynn said, laying a hand on Jamie’s chest. “My guy here is a brewer.”
Frank immediately stole Jamie away to talk beer, admitting to dabbling in home brewing himself, and Brynn had to collect herself after the whirlwind that took her from kissing her best friend, to the last couple hours in the Garden Cottage, to the words my guy falling from her lips like it was the most natural thing to say.
“You got the look, honey.”
Dora was next to her now, and Brynn realized she hadn’t taken her eyes off Jamie as he walked away with Frank. She turned to the woman next to her.
“What look?” Brynn asked. Maybe Dora could explain to her what she was feeling and how to take in this surge of emotion that was ten years in the making.
“Like you believe he’d lasso the moon for you if you asked him to.”
That was the thing. Even before today, she kinda believed he would.
“I probably wouldn’t even have to ask,” she said, a lump rising in her throat. If a stupid, lucky bouquet hadn’t brought them to this house, to strangers insisting that they kiss, would Jamie have done it otherwise? Would she?
As the realization of her feelings settled in, so had something else—something that had wrestled at the back of her thoughts, masked by tequila, adrenaline, lust, and—well—love.
It was guilt. Jamie was in a relationship. Oh my God, she thought. I’m the other woman.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she excused herself to the hallway to check who it was. Holly. But when she unlocked her screen she saw she had more than one text waiting. Holly was just checking in, but the one before had come from Spencer. She looked at the time of the text and knew that he’d sent it while she was in the shower. Had Jamie heard the notification?
Spencer: If you make it by Friday, our room is booked at the Sunset Tower, close to the bookstore where we’re doing the launch. If you don’t get in until Saturday, I’d love you to stay at my place. Looking forward to reconnecting, Brynn.
“Trying to ditch me already?”
She jumped at the sound of his voice as her phone dropped to the floor. Jamie bent to grab it, but, being lower to the ground already, she beat him. Thank God.
“Everything okay?” he asked as he offered her a hand and pulled her up.
“Yeah. Fine. Everything’s fine.” She waved her phone, an exaggerated gesture that almost sent the thing sailing to the floor again, but this time she caught it. “Just Holly checking in. I’m gonna text her back to let her know we’re headed out tomorrow. Right?”
Jamie eyed her warily and nodded. “Yep. Holbrook, Arizona, tomorrow. Second to last stop before L.A.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Are you sure everything’s okay? You know you can tell me anything, don’t you?”
“Of cours
e,” she said.
There was that lump in her throat again. And the guilt? It blanketed her now. Because not only had she turned Jamie into a cheating man and let alcohol cloud her moral judgment, but she just lied to him, and why? They were in uncharted waters here, and the one person she could talk to about anything was suddenly the person she feared talking to most.
Jamie loved her? If that was how he felt, what was he even doing with someone else? And what the hell was he doing taking her to Spencer? She had fantasized about Spencer Matthews since the beginning of their senior year of high school, and now he had a room for them at what was sure to be some swanky boutique hotel. All she had to do was text him and tell him she wouldn’t be making it to L.A. after all, but there should be some sort of discussion with Jamie first. They would have to have the talk, the one that used the word relationship and future. How could you cheat on the nice doctor who stitched up your chin? And, holy shit, she needed a minute.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, and rose on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss.
Something in his expression fell, but he masked it just as quickly. Not before she noticed, though.
“I’ll save you a seat,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Then he turned back toward the dining room.
“Jamie?”
When he turned to face her, eyes expectant, she wanted to tell him everything, to put it all out there—how amazing the day had been and how scared she was for what it meant. She wanted to tell him that Spencer texted and ask him what she should tell him. What should she say to Holly? What would he say to Liz? Was this just the magic of the trip, and Jamie would return to his life when they got home?
What are we now, Jamie?
But fear got the best of her.
“Grab me a beer? I’ll be there in a minute.”
Not that she needed any more alcohol. She wanted to think clearly now, but it was something natural for her to ask and something he would be happy to do. If anything, it bought her time.
