Second Best, #1

by Noelle Adams

  “You still didn’t answer the question,” he said, his fingers still wrapped around my wrist. “You do have a few daydreams, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do,” I admitted, flushing slightly but not as embarrassed as I would have thought I’d be.

  “So in these daydreams, where are you marrying the jackass?”

  I rolled my eyes since he refused to ever say John’s name, but I thought through the answer to his question. “I’m kind of traditional, so it’s usually a church.”

  “Yeah. I don’t even want to imagine what my grandmother would say if I suggested I get married anywhere but a church.” He was smiling, the way he always did when he referred to his grandmother. He must love the old lady a lot. “She thinks destination weddings are for heathens.”

  I giggled and rolled over onto my side, tugging down my top again. “I wouldn’t mind a destination wedding, I guess. It would just depend on the situation.”

  “And I guess it would also depend on the jackass’s preferences.”

  “Right.”

  “Is he still dating that woman?”

  For almost a month, John had been dating someone. It was longer than I’d ever seen him date anyone else, and it had been worrying me a lot. But at Sean’s question, I was able to smile. “No. They broke up. He told me.”

  “Ah.” Sean’s green eyes rested on my face with that same light scrutiny I saw so often—as if he were interested in what was going on in my head but didn’t have a lot invested in it. “That’s a relief then, I guess.”

  “Yes.”

  “He actually told you himself?”

  “He did. I didn’t even ask. He just brought it up himself.”

  John had been a little more chatty with me this week than he usually was. I wasn’t foolish enough to put too much stock in it—it was probably just a passing thing—but it made me happy.

  “Sounds promising.”

  I glanced over at what sounded like an edge to his voice, but there was nothing but his normal teasing smile on his face. I shrugged. “When you’re caught up in an unrequited love situation, there are a lot of ups and downs.”

  “I guess so.”

  “You’ve never felt unrequited love before, I suppose.”

  “Sure I have.”

  My eyebrows went up. “Really? Who?”

  This was a question right on the edge of breaking the clause in our contract about no talk of previous sexual relationships, but it didn’t appear to bother Sean at all. His mouth twitched. “I was desperately in love with my third grade teacher. Mrs. Haversham. Damn, she was hot.”

  I laughed. Then I noticed that Sean was rubbing his neck absently as he talked, and it made me curious. “Does your neck hurt?”

  “What?” He lowered his hand. “No, not too bad. I think I slept on it wrong last night. It’s nothing.”

  He was clearly shrugging off the discomfort, and it interested me. He evidently didn’t like to show any sort of weakness, even something as mild as a sore neck.

  I wondered if he was naturally that way or if he’d learned to put on the invulnerable front because of his business.

  “Turn over,” I said, pushing myself up to a sitting position on the bed, inspired by something I could do for him.

  “What?”

  “Turn over. I’ll rub your neck.”

  “You don’t have to rub my—”

  “I know I don’t have to. I want to. So stop whining when someone offers to do something nice for you.”

  He rolled his eyes, but he was half smiling as he turned over onto his stomach.

  I scooted over so I could reach him easily and start to massage his neck.

  I’m not any sort of expert at massage, but I’d found you could do pretty well just by searching for the tension. Sean groaned as I pushed into the tight muscles and pressure points in his neck and the base of his skull, so I must have done a pretty good job.

  “Do you get professional massages?” I asked as I worked.

  “Nah.”

  “Why not?” He had plenty of money and surely could fit in a couple of massages a week. I couldn’t think of any reason for him not to, especially since he really seemed to be enjoying even my amateur attempt.

  “Never seemed worth the time.”

  “Why not?”

  “If I want to relax, I’ll watch TV or have sex.”

  I chuckled at this as I moved my hands higher up into his head, massaging his scalp through his hair. “But you only have sex every other Wednesday.” I paused. “Right?”

  I didn’t even think about the question until the words were said, and then I immediately regretted them. I’d assumed I was the only person Sean was fucking. That was how the whole setup with the contract had made it seem.

  He was certainly the only person I was sleeping with.

  But at his silence, I was suddenly nervous. I grew very still, my fingers still tangled in his hair.

  Then finally Sean murmured hoarsely, “Yes, I only have sex every other Wednesday night. You’re not having sex with anyone else, are you?”

  “No! No, of course not!” I was flushed, but it was with pleasure as much as embarrassment now. I was so incredibly relieved to confirm that I was the only one he was seeing.

  “Then why did you ask if I was?”

  “I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t really think you were. I was just thinking that if you only have sex every other Wednesday, then that still leaves a lot of relaxing that needs to be done. So a massage now and then wouldn’t be a bad idea.” I’d started working on his neck again, pleased to feel that the tight muscles were starting to loosen.

  “Do you get massages?”

  “Yeah, occasionally. As a special treat.”

  “You’re really good at that.”

  “Thanks.” That was very nice to hear.

  He started moaning again as my hands lowered to his shoulders, and ridiculously it was starting to turn me on.

  I didn’t let it distract me though. I massaged my way down his back and then moved back up to his neck again. Eventually his whole body had loosened, and his groans were sounding a lot sexier than they had at first.

  After a long time, he turned over without warning, and I discovered the reason for the sexiness of his groans.

  He was hard.

  Despite my own arousal, I tsked my tongue and said, “Are you serious? You get turned on by an innocent backrub? No wonder you don’t want to get massages regularly. That would be pretty embarrassing.”

  He chuckled and pulled me over him so I was straddling his hips. “It would only happen if you were the one giving me the backrub.”

  “Uh-huh.” I tried to sound lofty and skeptical, but I was having trouble not rubbing myself against him.

  “Take off your top,” he told me.

  I stared at him.

  “Take it off,” he instructed. “I want to see you.”

  I did as he said, wondering why his words were turning me on even more. As I tossed the top onto the floor, Sean’s eyes raked over my bare breasts and tight nipples. My breasts jiggled with my motion, and his nostrils flared slightly.

  “Now the pants,” he murmured.

  This was a little more awkward since I had to lift up my legs to get the pants off over my feet, but I managed it eventually, hoping I hadn’t looked too unsexy.

  Sean didn’t seem to think so. He was leering at me quite nakedly.

  “Do you want to ride me?” he asked.

  I did. God help me, I did.

  I reached over to the nightstand for another condom, and then I pulled down his pants enough to free his erection and roll it on. Then he helped to position me above him, and I lowered myself onto his hard length.

  Being on top is usually not my favorite position. It makes me self-conscious, and I’m never quite sure how I should move. But I loved the way he was gazing at me so hotly, and I was so turned on that I didn’t even debate with myself the most attractive way to get going.

  I roc
ked over him, slowly at first but then with more urgency. He held on to my bottom possessively, helping to hold me in place, and his eyes roamed from my face to my shaking breasts to where he was pumping in and out of me.

  It didn’t take me very long to come, and then he told me to keep going, so I rode him until I came again.

  Then he rolled us both over so he could take control, and I reached up to hold on to the headboard for purchase. It was all feeling so incredibly good that I came again as he did, my body nearly flying apart as I banged the headboard against the wall.

  As I came down, my throat hurt and my lungs hurt, and I was sore between the legs. But it felt like every sliver of tension in my body had been deliciously released.

  When I could move again, I went to the bathroom to clean up and splashed water onto my face. Then I pulled my pajamas back on and went back into the bedroom.

  Sean was still sprawled out where he’d collapsed earlier. His skin was damp, and his face was flushed and sated.

  He reached out to take my hand and drag me back into the bed beside him.

  “You’ve got to be crazy if you think we’re going to have more sex,” I told him.

  “No more sex,” he agreed. “It’s going to be a while before I can get it up again.”

  I chuckled.

  He let go of my hand, and I pulled the covers up over us since I was starting to feel a little chilly.

  I’d rest a little before I left. A rest would be nice.

  I closed my eyes.

  It was a long time before I opened them again.

  WHEN I WOKE UP, I WAS confused and disoriented. It wasn’t dark in the room since lights were on in the bathroom and entryway, but everything felt strange and foreign.

  I’d slept hard and really well. I hadn’t dreamed or woken up or anything. And the bed was comfortable and cozy. But something was wrong. Something was definitely wrong.

  I blinked a few times and lifted my head, discovering that Sean was sound asleep beside me, the covers pushed down to his waist and his arm slung over toward me.

  Then I focused on the clock and discovered it was five twenty-two.

  In the morning.

  Five twenty-two in the morning.

  I’d slept all night in bed with Sean instead of leaving like I was supposed to.

  I sat up with a jerk and breathed until my mind was clear. Then I swung my legs over the side and started to get up.

  Sean reached out and grabbed my pajama top to stop me. “Where... going?”

  “I’ve got to leave.”

  “Don’t leave... yet.” He was clearly half-asleep, not conscious of what he was saying.

  “It’s almost five thirty in the morning, Sean. I’ve got to get home so I can get ready to go to work.”

  “Stay... with me.” He still wasn’t awake.

  “I can’t. I’ve got to go.” I pulled my top out of his grip and made myself stand up, pulling my clothes on hastily

  My heart was fluttering uncomfortably as I looked back at Sean in the bed. He’d rolled over onto his side and was breathing slow and even again.

  He looked almost vulnerable, which Sean Doyle never was. And also strangely lonely in the bed all by himself.

  I wasn’t even sure why.

  But I could hardly get back into bed with him. I had to drive home, shower and dress, and then get back into the city for work. I had an eight o’clock meeting this morning, and I needed at least twenty minutes to prepare beforehand.

  So I left.

  The night before would have to tide me over for two more weeks.

  And Sean would have to get himself up whenever he really awakened.

  I’d see him again in two more weeks.

  That was the deal, and it was a good one.

  It couldn’t last forever. Sean and I weren’t in love, and one day that was what I really wanted. Maybe even a wedding of my own—the kind I did sometimes daydream about.

  As I rode down the elevator, an image came to me of myself in a beautiful wedding dress, walking down the aisle of an old church to a handsome, waiting groom.

  This groom was nearly always John Cooper.

  For just a moment, however, the image flickered, and I saw Sean in a tuxedo at the end of the aisle, gazing at me with awe in his eyes and with a quirk of that sexy mouth.

  I shook the visual away immediately since it was ridiculous.

  Sean wasn’t groom material, and he never could be. He’d closed that door when his fiancée died, and he wasn’t going to open it again.

  I didn’t even want him to.

  I had with Sean exactly what I wanted. For now.

  Sure, it wasn’t my daydreams come to life, but second best could still be pretty damn good.

  Four

  TWO WEEKS LATER, I knocked on the door to the same hotel room with a strange twisting below my belly.

  I was nervous, and I had no idea why.

  I’d done this same thing six times before—come to this hotel after work to meet Sean on every other Wednesday—and I knew what to expect now. There was nothing new or different about this evening.

  I was still talking myself into this piece of common sense when the door opened and Sean stood in front of me.

  He wore an expensive suit and a red-and-gray tie. His five-o’clock shadow was thicker than normal, and his hair was slightly damp at the edges—like he’d been sweating or he’d splashed water onto his face.

  I wondered which one it was.

  When I just stood there staring, he arched his eyebrows. “Are you debating whether to come in or not?”

  “No, no.” I felt silly—for both my nerves and for my momentary distraction—so I smiled at him self-deprecatingly. “Just admiring your manly physique.”

  I’d thought the ironic compliment would make him chuckle, but he didn’t even smile. He stepped aside to let me in, his eyes focused on me but not even a trace of his lip quirk in his expression.

  Something was different.

  Something was wrong.

  “What?” he demanded softly when I studied him, trying to figure out his mood.

  “Nothing.” I gave him a blithe smile and walked over to the wine, mostly for something to do. I poured some into each of the two glasses and handed one to him.

  He took it and then sipped, his green eyes still resting on my face. He still hadn’t smiled.

  He hadn’t smiled.

  It felt deeply significant, and it made my stomach twist even more. I sat down in one of the chairs at the table and drank my wine, trying to figure out Sean’s mood from the posture of his back and the tension of his jaw.

  I simply couldn’t read his mind, so the only way for me to find out was to ask. “Did you have a bad day?” I asked lightly, hoping it would come off as casual conversation.

  Sean had walked over to the big window and was staring out at downtown Boston. But at my question, he lowered his glass from his lips and glanced over at me. “No. Why?”

  An edge to his tone made me wish I hadn’t voiced the question. “I don’t know. Just asking.”

  I sat in silence, searching my mind for something that would explain his strange, tense mood.

  I’d been a little uncomfortable emotionally after the last time we were together. There was no rational explanation for it, but that previous evening had left me feeling... jittery. Maybe just because we’d fallen asleep together, and we’d never done that before.

  Maybe Sean felt something similar. He’d come up with this whole sex contract on purpose to avoid any sort of intimacy or emotional entanglements. Maybe he thought lines had been crossed last time, and so he was taking a dramatic step backward tonight.

  Maybe.

  That didn’t feel right though.

  When the silence had stretched out longer than I was comfortable with, I put down my glass. This was ridiculous. I wasn’t going to sit here and feel awkward and uncertain. That wasn’t what our relationship was supposed to be about. “Do you want to do this tonight?�
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  His eyebrows went up again as he turned to look at me. Still no trace of a smile. “What?”

  I stood up. “I asked if you’re up to this tonight. Because if you’re not, it’s really fine. I can just—”

  He moved over so he was in front of me. “You want to leave?”

  “I don’t want to leave. I was asking if you wanted me to. You seem...” I made a vague gesture with my hand, hoping it would encompass all the tension I was sensing in him.

  “I seem what?” he asked in that same soft, hoarse voice. His expression was almost a challenge, as if he were daring me to insult him.

  I didn’t want to insult him. I didn’t want to do anything like that. I gave a little shrug. “I don’t know. You seem like... you’ve had a bad day.”

  I’d circled back to the only explanation that made sense to me.

  Everyone had bad days now and then. Even Sean Doyle.

  “My day has been fine,” he gritted out.

  “All right then.”

  “Are you going to leave?”

  “No, I’m not going to leave if you don’t want me to.”

  “Good.”

  “Good.”

  We stared at each other for a moment. Then Sean put down his wineglass and took my head in his hand, pulling me into a hard kiss.

  After that, things went the way you’d expect them to go. We kissed for a minute or two before it got too intense to stay on our feet. Then we ended up on the bed together. Sean rolled over on top of me, his hands busy as he continued to kiss me.

  I was wearing a pantsuit today—I’d bought a few skirts in the past couple of months, but I hadn’t had enough energy to wear one that morning. (I wasn’t sure why, but wearing a skirt always took more energy than wearing pants did for me.) Sean got rid of my jacket quickly and unbuttoned my vintage-looking blouse without even breaking the kiss.

  He was good at multitasking.

  I kicked off my shoes and unbuttoned and unzipped my trousers, and then Sean was able to push them off over my legs. Then his kissing moved down from my mouth.

  His hands slid up to my shoulders and then along the lines of my arms, his fingers wrapping around my wrists. He moved my hands up above my head and held them in place for a moment, as if he wanted me to keep them there.