The Play Mate

by Kendall Ryan

  He hadn’t invited me in. Just stood there, watching me like he wasn’t sure what to do with me.

  “If my being here is an issue, I have no problem turning my ass around and going home.” I had a pint of salted-caramel ice cream in my freezer, and the series I’d been bingeing on lately had just released a new season. “You asked me to come, remember?”

  He dropped his hands to his sides, then shoved them into his pockets. “I don’t want you to leave. Sorry about my text.”

  “What’s going on, Smith?”

  “Come inside. I’ll explain.”

  He stepped back from the doorway and headed inside, assuming I’d follow. And of course, I did.

  I hadn’t been inside his apartment in a couple of years. The last time I’d been here had been when I was hanging out with my brother and we’d stopped by briefly. The place looked exactly as I remembered it—spacious for a Chicago apartment, neat and masculine. Buffed wood floors and dark wood furniture. Black-and-white photographs of his family and the city he loved hung on the walls.

  Smith stopped in the dining room, placing his hands in his hair.

  I should just leave now. Say fuck this and tell him to take his silent treatment and shove it up his ass. But I knew I wouldn’t do that.

  I knew I’d said I just wanted to have one orgasm that wasn’t supplied by me, but that wasn’t exactly true. Because Smith had given me one. One amazing, earth-shattering, bed-clawing orgasm—with his mouth—and I still tingled at the memory, but now I wanted more. I wanted the full experience, and I was stubborn that way. Once I had it in my head that I wanted something, I didn’t stop until I got it.

  As I’d dressed and readied myself for my not-a-date, I couldn’t help but let hope bloom in my chest. Knowing Smith, he probably wanted to razz me about my failed seduction attempt in person, just to watch my face flame and hear my voice tremble.

  Well, fuck that. I wasn’t going to beat myself up or turn into a babbling idiot when he asked me to explain myself tonight.

  The fragrant scent of chicken and roasted vegetables came from the kitchen, making my stomach grumble.

  He cooked?

  “If you don’t start talking soon, I’m out of here,” I blurted.

  My pride had already suffered too much where this man was concerned. I might have been kicked out of his bed once already, and if he didn’t want me here, he wouldn’t have to say anything. The moment I felt uncomfortable or unwelcome, I would say peace, out and hightail it out of here.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Please don’t leave.”

  The words were out before I could stop them, despite the fact that I knew I should just let her go. No matter how much that might save my sanity, though, I couldn’t stand seeing the hurt in Evie’s eyes. I had invited her over. She’d done nothing to deserve my shitty attitude besides accept my invitation.

  Not to mention she had clearly been anticipating this as much as I had before I got Cullen’s texts, because she was dressed to the nines and looking dead sexy. Her black wrap dress accentuated every sleek curve, and my palms were itching to touch her.

  She stared back at me, the indecision clear on her face. “You don’t really seem to be in the mood for company . . .”

  “I’m a dick sometimes. Surely we’ve known each other long enough that we can both admit it,” I said with a sheepish grin. “But I promise,” I held up three fingers in a solemn vow, “for the rest of the night, I’ll be on my best behavior. So could you please stay? It would mean a lot to me.”

  I didn’t realize how true those words were until she nodded slowly and a sense of relief washed over me.

  “Okay. If you’re sure.”

  “I am.”

  I wasn’t. In fact, I was almost one hundred percent positive that this was the wrong move, long term. This whole struggle was only going to get worse. If things went great, I’d only want her more.

  I had to bite back a laugh at the very idea that could even be possible. She was like sap on my skin, stuck tight, and there wasn’t shit I could do to shake her except let whatever this was run its course. But if things went badly, the alternative wasn’t any better.

  In the face of her disappointment, though, I realized a few things. I cared about Evie, and I was going to make sure we enjoyed this night. Surely, tomorrow would be soon enough to rake myself over the fucking coals again.

  “You forgive me for being such a jerk?” I asked softly.

  She nodded and chewed on her bottom lip, which made me zero in on that mouth. Acting on instinct, I tugged her into my arms and held her tight against me for a long moment.

  As she looped her arms around my neck and our bodies lined up, all I could think of was how right it felt. Like a key fitting into a lock. The last of the darkness faded away, and the loneliness that had become the norm for me lifted, leaving behind a happiness I hadn’t felt in years. I had to fight the urge to clamp onto her even tighter and kiss her senseless. When she pressed closer to me, her breasts branding my chests as her nipples peaked, I guessed she must be feeling it too.

  Fuck.

  I clenched my jaw to hold back a groan as my dick pulsed to life and my blood ran hot. My fingers tightened almost reflexively, clamping over her waist, drawing a choked gasp from Evie that sent a pulse of electricity through me.

  I pulled away first, fully aware that if I didn’t do it now, I never would.

  “I can’t wait for you to try what I made for dinner,” I said, praying to the boner gods to give me ten minutes of relief. “It’s roasted chicken with skillet cornbread and stuffing.”

  Her cheeks were pink, and the hurt expression on her face had made way for a grin. “Sounds awesome.”

  I led her back into the dining room and motioned for her to take a seat. “You want to pour the wine while I get dinner on the table?”

  “Will do.”

  I headed into the kitchen and prepped our plates. It only took a couple of minutes, but by the time I got back, the wine was poured and she’d moved some things around on the table.

  “Okay, what’s different?” I asked with a chuckle.

  “Knives on the right,” she said with a saucy wink. “And they call it a centerpiece for a reason. It goes in the middle. But I’ve got to tell you, Mr. Hamilton, I’m so impressed. All this for me?”

  I shrugged and set down the plates. “Who better for than a friend I’ve known forever and care about, right?”

  The light in her eyes dimmed a little as she took her seat again. “Exactly. Friends. And, um, thanks. It looks great.”

  For a smart guy, I could be such a fucking idiot sometimes. In my effort to make her feel special, I’d just decreed that this wasn’t a date after all. It came out all wrong, and so far, my attempts at making tonight perfect were a major fail.

  “Try the chicken,” I said, hoping that maybe if the food was good enough, she’d forget about what an asshole I was.

  She cut off a morsel and tucked it into her mouth. I didn’t realize how important her reaction was until she made a low moan deep in her throat.

  “Holy crap, that’s good. So moist and juicy,” she murmured.

  A thrill shot through me, and I forked up a bite myself just to make sure she wasn’t bullshitting me. “You’re right. Not bad, if I do say so myself. Pam gave me the recipe.”

  We worked our way around the plate, trying bites of everything at the same time and comparing notes. The meal went by without any more foot-in-mouth action, thank God, and when it was over, we were stuffed to the gills.

  “How about I cook for you next time? I have this amazing lamb dish that—” She blinked and stopped short. “Not that there will be a next time, but . . .”

  When she started toying with her napkin, I reached out and took her hand. “Evie, you don’t have to tiptoe around me. I like spending time with you, and this was my idea, after all. I’d love to do it again.”

  She threaded her fingers with mine and held my gaze. “Then why did you tr
y to break our date? And why were you in such a miserable mood at first? Did I do something wrong?”

  I pushed my plate away with my free hand and leaned closer. It was time for a truth bomb. “Nope. Not a thing. In fact, I was looking forward to it all day. Your brother texted me. He asked if I wanted to hang out tonight, and I had to lie. I hate lying to him.”

  Guilt clouded her eyes and she nodded slowly. “Me too. But what’s the alternative? We can’t hang out, or . . . maybe we could just tell him?”

  I shook my head grimly. “We don’t even know what this is yet, Evie. If we tell him and things never progress beyond what they are, then we’ve either got him pissed that I slept with his baby sister when that didn’t even technically happen,” yet, my brain supplied, “or he mentally marries us off when we both want this to be casual.”

  I didn’t even know if I felt that way anymore. Casual was such a fleeting word. But, damn it, I couldn’t deny that my heart was racing, and it wasn’t just from anticipation at the thought of spending more time with Evie.

  It was fear.

  The thought of admitting my own loneliness—and the way Evie made me feel—scared the piss out of me. Luckily for me, she didn’t seem to notice, because she nodded in agreement.

  “Casual. I’m in. And you’re right. I hadn’t thought of it that way, but we can’t tell him. Ever. My brother can be overprotective and traditional like that. One sort-of date and he’ll be asking when you’re going to make an honest woman out of me. We’ve got to work together every day, and that kind of pressure will ruin any chance we have of juggling it all effectively.”

  “So, now I answered your question. We can’t tell Cullen. Maybe you can finally answer mine,” I said, tracing my thumb absently over her palm. “Why did you come in my room that night? Are you really so hung up on the virginity thing that you just wanted to get rid of it?”

  “What?” she asked, suddenly blinking at me.

  “I’m not doing this. I’m not going to be your first.”

  “You’re not. I mean, you weren’t,” she said tentatively.

  “Wait, what?” The knowledge there had been someone before me sent ice water through my veins. I wanted to kill the motherfucker, beat him within an inch of his life, and I didn’t even know who the guy was.

  “It was stupid. A guy I went out with last year. And it was horrible, as first times go.”

  A knot formed inside my gut. “Meaning what? You didn’t enjoy yourself?”

  Evie shook her head. “Not even a little. I wanted a do-over.”

  “A do-over?” That wasn’t a thing. She knew that, right?

  She shrugged. “My friend Maggie seemed to think it made sense.”

  There was no sense in explaining to Evie that you could only have your first time once. It was clear that she was set on her goal of having a satisfying sexual experience, and damn if I didn’t respect the hell out of her for it.

  She hesitated, but I could see her pulse jumping in her neck. “And I don’t know. I thought it would be good . . . with you.”

  The tension in the air ratcheted up to the point that her hand started trembling in mine, and my dick went stiff. I’d asked for it by posing the question, so I had no one to blame but myself.

  “So you still want that? With me?”

  She opened her mouth to speak and then closed it before tipping her head in the affirmative.

  Blood rushed in my ears as I tried to get a grip. So, what Evie was saying was that, right now, if I wanted to sweep these plates off the table, hoist her up on it, and fuck her brains out, she’d be in.

  And I, a lowly male, was supposed to keep it casual and hold to the idiotic vow I’d made only an hour before not to sleep with her?

  Yeah, talk about a fucking idiot.

  Sex would surely complicate things, and we had both just agreed to simple. Easy. Casual.

  I leaned in and cupped her face. What could be more casual than a kiss? We’d stop after just one . . .

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lightning. That’s what it felt like, kissing Evie.

  The shock of adrenaline coursed through my veins, every cell coming to life at once. Her lips were so soft, I fought the urge to clamp my teeth on that bottom one, hard.

  She, on the other hand, wasn’t holding back. One second, we were both seated at the table, and the next, she’d slid from her chair half onto mine as she pressed herself tightly against me.

  My hands made their way up to tangle in her silky hair, and she whimpered. The sound traveled straight to my cock, making it swell even more. I wondered briefly if the science of having literally all the blood in my body draining to my cock would kill me, but then she hitched one leg over my chair to straddle me, and I no longer gave a shit.

  If I dropped dead right now, it would be with a smile on my lips.

  I forced myself to release her hair, but only so I could free up my hands and push us back from the table. The maneuver opened up a whole new world of real estate, and I cupped Evie’s round ass in both hands. She gasped into my mouth, which only encouraged me to tighten my grip.

  She pulled back a few inches. “Smith,” she murmured, running the tip of her finger over my mouth before crushing her lips to mine again.

  Every muscle in my body was tense, primed, and ready to stand with her in my arms and carry her to my bedroom, but I still had one working brain cell, and it was bleating outraged commands.

  Retreat!

  Don’t go even one step further.

  You made a vow.

  But that vow seemed so far away, blurred by the havoc Evie Reed was wreaking in my lap. I sucked in a breath through my nose, trying to work up the discipline to pull back, when she swept her tongue along mine and simultaneously ground her pussy against my cock.

  I gripped her ass tighter, working her over my shaft again until she started moving on her own, writhing against me, making desperate little whimpering sounds that tugged at the last of my self-control.

  The friction we were creating sucked the air from me, and for a second, all I could hear was the pounding of my heartbeat.

  “Smith. Please,” she murmured into my mouth, the break in her voice filling me with hot lust.

  Vows were meant to be broken. Besides, no one could be expected to turn down an offer like this one. The woman I’d been fantasizing about for two weeks was rubbing all up on me, hot, wet, and ready for my cock.

  And she’s your best friend’s sister.

  The thought of Cullen—the lies I’d already told him, the lies I would continue to tell—had me freezing in place. It took Evie a second to realize I was no longer kissing her back and my questing hands had stilled, but when she did, she groaned.

  “Nooo,” she muttered as she pulled away. “Smith, don’t think about him. I’m not a child anymore. I’m a grown woman, and I get to live my own life and make my own choices.” As if to prove it, she leaned in and plastered her magnificent tits against my chest.

  I met her gaze and bit back my own groan of frustration. Her face was flushed with unquenched need, her hair mussed from my fingers, her lips plump and damp. I’d never wanted to fuck like I did right now. My blood sang with it. Every instinct was urging me to finish the job I’d started. To drive inside that sweet little cunt until she screamed my name and I exploded inside her.

  But until I knew what this was between us? Until I knew I could offer Evie more than I’d ever managed to give a woman before? Until then, I had to resist, because sharing a dinner and a kiss with your best friend’s sister was bad. But knowingly taking her to bed without having any idea of what was going to happen after that? That was unforgivable.

  In fact, if I were in Cullen’s shoes and Evie was Pam? I’d have cut Cullen’s balls off for even thinking about it.

  My cock pulsed once and wept a single tear as I patted her ass lightly and slid her from my lap to stand.

  “I’d love for you to stay a while longer. Have dessert. Watch a movie. But we can’t sleep
together, Evie. Not now. Not yet. Once we cross that line, there’s no going back, and I need to make sure I’m worthy of the gift you want to give me.” And that the fallout will be something we can both live with.

  I kept that last part to myself, though, because I didn’t want her blaming Cullen’s overprotectiveness for me backing away. The fact was, there was a part of me that needed time outside her circle of hotness to think straight. Not any part below the waist, of course, but somewhere in my cranium, I knew that Cullen was only part of the problem. My fucked-up childhood—moving from foster home to foster home before being adopted—had left a space inside me where trust used to live. Too many times, I’d let myself be lulled by a warm hug and a soft heart. I let hope in, and then just when I thought things would be all right, I’d been ripped away again. New family. New problems.

  After a while, it had become more than clear that hope was the enemy. Expect the least, and you’ll never be disappointed. The Smith Hamilton human-relationships credo.

  So it had been easy enough to keep a distance between myself and the women I slept with. If they opted out after a few weeks, it was fine because I’d never really opted in.

  With Evie, that wasn’t an option.

  I was either in or out, because I cared. A lot. A lot more than I ever expected to. And the last thing I wanted to do was hurt her.

  “You’re a great guy, Smith. I’m not asking for a proposal, you know. I just want you to be my first real lover, is all,” she said softly.

  The word “first” implied there would be more after me, and the thought sent a hot knife of jealousy straight through me. It was all I could do not to say fuck it and take her right there. Make her forget that any other man even existed.

  That inclination alone was enough to sober me and get my mind right.

  “I want to hang out with you, Evie. I want us to spend more time together, but until we’ve got some idea of what exactly this is, we have to keep it in the friend zone. Can we do that?” I asked, watching her face for clues as to whether I was asking for too much.