Fetching: A Frenemies to Lovers Romantic Comedy (Unleashed Romance, Book 1)

by Kylie Gilmore

  I look to Snowball sound asleep in her bed by the fire. She won’t bother us. Still, I’d better take her out for one last whiz. I tamp down the last of the sparks in the fire, letting it die out.

  A few minutes later, I’m outside freezing my ass off while Snowball stands on the snow, glaring at me.

  “The faster you do your business, the faster you’ll be back in bed.”

  She turns her back on me.

  I’m not wearing my coat because I was in a hurry. I can feel my balls shriveling. “Do your business,” I order.

  She sniffs around and then gazes out to the woods, her ears perking up.

  “Come on.” I turn my back on an icy wind and turn back to her. “Yes, there’s deer and other critters. You want your bed, right? Do your business.”

  Finally, she pees.

  “Good girl! Good, good, good.” I scoop her up and rush back inside. A full body shiver goes through me at the change in temperature. I set her back in her bed, grab the blanket off the sofa, and wrap it around me. The things I do for that dog.

  I hear female laughter overhead. It’s good they’re getting along. I could never date someone my sisters hated. The family tension would be unbearable. My sisters wouldn’t hesitate to share their opinion. Loudly.

  I pace for a bit, keyed up, and then I arrange the pillow and blanket on the sofa for seduction under cover. One false move, and we’ll roll right off. Hamstring pull is a distinct possibility. There’s a few positions that would work, but it’s not ideal. I’m used to having a king-size bed to work with. Too bad it’s in storage.

  A short while later, Sydney returns wearing my old gray Princeton T-shirt that hangs past her hips with a pair of Kayla’s sweats that end at her calves. I normally sleep in my boxer briefs, so I don’t have any sweats of my own to give her. She looks frigging adorable.

  I walk over to her, checking her out. “The top half of you looks like you shrunk, and the bottom half looks like you’re a giant. Very weird optical illusion going on here.”

  “Thank you,” she says dryly. “Your turn in the bathroom.”

  “Sure.” I lean close to whisper in her ear, “And then we’ll finally be alone.”

  She backs up a step. “Uh, yeah, that’s not happening.”

  I’m immediately suspicious of the female laughter I heard upstairs earlier. “Did Kayla say something about me?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is there something I should know?”

  “No.” Other than Julia wrecked me and I haven’t taken anyone seriously since. Besides, we already shared our war stories of horrible exes that claim to love you and then don’t.

  She narrows her eyes suspiciously.

  I lift my palms. “Innocent.”

  “Hmm, I suppose if you had any dark secrets, you wouldn’t confide them in your little sister. You coddle her.”

  “No, I take care of her.”

  “She’s a full-grown woman.”

  “She’s just going through a rough time. She needs me.”

  She tilts her head. “Tell me again why she gets your bed and you cram your six-foot-plus frame onto a sofa that she could easily fit on?”

  “I told you she’s having a hard time—” I gesture toward upstairs “—with the crying and everything. Anyone would be upset if their fiancé left them at the altar.”

  “Okay, but she says she’s been here more than two weeks.” She shrugs and fiddles with the bottom of my Princeton shirt. “Maybe you guys could switch places while she recovers, that’s all.”

  A light goes on, and I read between the lines. She’s saying sex is back on if we’re together in my bed and Kayla’s down here. But if I kick Kayla out for sex, then she won’t want to go back to my room ever, and she’ll be on the sofa for who knows how long. It’s not ideal with the construction and all. I don’t want her alone down here with a bunch of strange men working nearby. Yes, I’m overprotective. More so with her, she’s the baby of the family.

  “Goodnight, Wyatt,” Sydney says pointedly.

  I must’ve hesitated too long. “I got you.” I turn and jog out of the room, heading upstairs.

  “I have no idea what that means!” she calls out.

  “Hold on!” I love the way she tangles with me. Most women go out of their way to agree with whatever I say—all soft tones—and I know it’s because they’re not in it for anything but themselves. What I can give to them.

  I head to the bathroom to do the whole getting-ready ritual before going to my room. I knock.

  “Come in,” Kayla says. She’s already tucked in bed, looking so young and fragile.

  Okay, so I can’t kick her out. Just look at her. On to plan B, seducing the pants off Sydney so she doesn’t even notice we’re on a sofa. Or maybe against the wall. That could work.

  “Hey, just need to get something.” I crouch down to my duffel bag in the corner and retrieve a strip of condoms from the box. Three is optimistic, but you never know.

  “Wyatt!”

  I toss the condoms back guiltily. “What?”

  She sits up. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing. Go to sleep.”

  “I know what a condom looks like.”

  I grab them again, tuck them in my back pocket, and stand. “Well, uh, goodnight.”

  “Sydney says you’re not together.”

  “Not yet. She wants to be.”

  “How do you know?”

  She argued profusely for privacy. She wants me bad. “I just know.”

  She shakes her head. “Mom always said sex is better when you love someone.”

  I suppress my smart-ass response because I’d like her to believe that. “Mom’s a smart lady.”

  Kayla’s eyes are wide and earnest. “Do you love her?”

  I point toward the door. “I really need to go. Do you have everything you need?”

  She pats the bed. “Come here. Stop trying to race out the door. I’m worried about you. You’ve had nothing but terrible relationships for as long as I can remember.”

  I hang my head, knowing she’s not going to let this go. Sisters can talk you to death. I sit on the edge of the mattress. “Don’t worry. Sydney’s Snowball approved.” I think about Sydney’s strong and feisty nature, how devoted she is to preserving her family legacy, and that reminds me to be wary. I don’t know how far she’ll go to save her restaurant.

  “Have you been on a real date?”

  “A few.” If you count me showing up at her restaurant for months, and us bantering for hours. The way she slapped her ass at me was one of my favorite times.

  “Okay, that’s a good start. I do think Mom is right. That’s why I’m waiting for marriage.”

  I blink. She’s waiting for marriage. A twenty-four-year-old virgin. My mind immediately goes to the guy who left her at the altar. I bet he wanted to marry her so he could finally have sex, but then couldn’t go through with getting shackled. Crap. I can’t say any of that.

  “Wyatt?”

  “Good for you.”

  She grips her hands tightly together and says in a small voice, “I think, in hindsight, that might be why Rob was so eager to marry me.”

  Rob. I’ve finally got a first name. PhD. Same university. Now I can narrow it down, track him, and kick his ass. “If that’s the reason, you’re better off without him.” That was definitely the reason. Why else would he want to marry her so quick and then bail?

  She sighs. “I know.”

  I stand. “Okay. I’m going to—”

  “I’m thinking it’s a mistake to wait. Do you think I screwed up?”

  I consider my words carefully. I don’t want her to feel any worse than she already does. “You should just do what feels right for you. If that’s waiting for marriage, then that’s what you should do.”

  She twists her lips to the side. “I guess not waiting hasn’t worked out any better for you.”

  “Sex and love don’t always go toget
her. For me they don’t.”

  She slowly shakes her head. “Maybe you should take Mom’s advice and wait for love, and I should do the opposite, so men aren’t dying to marry me just to get some.”

  I open my mouth and shut it again. I’m out of my league with the frank little-sister sex talk, and the last thing I want is to give her bad advice. “Think on it some more. Maybe check in with Paige or Brooke.” Sisterly advice would be much better in this situation.

  She frowns. “They don’t believe in waiting. They say Mom doesn’t know what she’s talking about because she married young, and I’m missing out.”

  “Hmm, really? Huh.” I’m drowning in deep awkward water. Mom’s the one who handled the sex talk. I don’t even like to think about my sisters having sex, or not having sex, but still talking about it. Can I go now?

  Kayla continues. “They say Mom only said that so we wouldn’t end up pregnant and drop out of school.”

  Probably true. Our mom is smart like that. For me, she put a box of condoms in my room when I got my first girlfriend in high school, Tara, and told me to keep it covered. Which I did. Never once did Mom mention sex and love in the same sentence. That seems like a double standard. Maybe she thought I was in love. I was mostly in love with sex, though I did like Tara. A lot. She let me have sex with her.

  I pat Kayla on the head, which she hates. “Good talk. Night.”

  Kayla gets out of bed and rips off the blanket. Sheets come off next. Awesome. She’s giving me the bed. She tosses the blanket back and grabs a pillow, tucking the sheets under one arm.

  “I’ll take the sofa,” she says. “Go ahead and make the bed with your stuff. Sydney and I will have a sleepover. We can both fit on the sofa, sleeping head to toe.” She heads for the door.

  “Or…”

  She grins at me over her shoulder. “I’ll give her the option.”

  Sydney

  I settle on the sofa, using Wyatt’s pillow and blanket, watching Snowball curled up in her cozy bed. I left the overhead dining room light on dim so Wyatt could find his way back. I just know I’m going to end up crammed on this sofa with him because I can’t resist the pull. I’ve had a taste of him, and I’ve been aching with desire ever since. I never knew I could ache for someone. I know I said it’s not happening, but my body says differently despite his sister upstairs, this room with no door, and us cramming onto a sofa. Once we get the lust out of our system, I’ll have to sleep on top of him to fit, or kick him off the sofa entirely. I run a hand through my hair. The things I think about when I’m blindsided by lust.

  “Hi.”

  I scramble to sit up on the sofa, surprised to see Kayla. Thank God I didn’t get naked! She’s holding a pillow and sheets. Did he send his sister downstairs to sleep with me? I thought Wyatt was just as caught up in lust as I was. “Where’s Wyatt?”

  “I gave him back his bed. I felt bad he was on the floor down here.”

  I’m ridiculously disappointed. “Oh.”

  She smiles. “I thought we could have a sleepover.” She perches on the arm of the sofa. “I could take the floor, or we could sleep head to toe on the sofa. Neither of us is that big, so I think it would work. We could stay up late for girl talk like I do with my sisters.”

  “Girl talk,” I echo. It’s not like I never had sleepovers with my girl friends, but, dammit, I thought Wyatt wanted to be with me. He sends his sister without even a goodnight kiss! Unacceptable.

  I get off the sofa. “Thanks, but you can have the sofa. I need to go talk to your brother.”

  She nods. “Okay. Just one thing. He’s had a lot of crappy relationships. You should only be with him if you care for him. You don’t have to love him yet, but think about it, okay? He’s worth it.”

  I blink a few times, not sure what to say. I’ve been driven by my lust, and now she’s bringing it into emotional territory. I can’t imagine Wyatt and I working out long term the way we push each other’s buttons. And, while I don’t normally go for casual flings, I’m here and I need this.

  “Got it,” I finally say.

  “Goodnight.”

  “Night.”

  I go upstairs and peek in the open door of Wyatt’s room. He’s smoothing out a blue plaid blanket on top of the bed. He turns, a slow smile spreading across his face. “You chose me.”

  I shut the door behind me. “Versus a sleepover with your sister?”

  “Yeah. She said she’d give you the option to sleep with me or her.”

  I shake my head. “You guys are so weird. I came up here because you didn’t even say goodnight.” I gesture toward downstairs. “Just left me with your sister.”

  He smirks. “Are you cross with me again, Cindy?” I suddenly realize it’s his way of being funny—the smirk, the old-fashioned word cross, calling me the wrong name.

  I play along, lifting my chin like I really am angry when all I want is to tangle up close and personal. “Yes.”

  He walks toward me, a predatory look in his eyes. A rush of lust makes my entire body heat in anticipation of impact.

  13

  He boxes me in against the door, his palms on either side of my head. “And you came up here to read me the riot act on good manners?”

  “Yeah.” My voice comes out breathy.

  He smirks, leaning in close, his words running hot over my lips. “You want me.”

  “Yes.”

  His lips meet mine in a scorching kiss, reminding me exactly what I came here for—passion. The thing I’ve been missing out on my whole life and never knew it, until him. He tastes minty, smells woodsy fresh, and feels wonderful, his hard body pressing against mine. He kisses me like he has all night. And we do, here in this timeless place with the storm trapping us overnight and late tomorrow. Tomorrow.

  I break the kiss. “How’s this going to go afterward?”

  His hand comes up to cup my jaw, stroking my cheek. I lean into it, loving his touch, not too soft, just right, firm and sure. “What do you mean?”

  I put my hand on his, pulling it down from my cheek so I can focus. “I can’t deal with an awkward morning after. I’m not sure how long I’ll be stuck here. It could be late afternoon.” It’s both a warning and a worry. If it’s casual, I’d normally want to leave as soon as possible.

  He nuzzles my neck, working his way up to my ear. “Poor Sydney. You might actually have to face your lover in the morning.”

  “And his sister.”

  He lifts his head, his whiskey eyes meeting mine intently. “We’ll have sex in the morning too. That way it’s not awkward. And when I finally finish with you, you’ll be limp and barely able to lift a finger, let alone utter a peep of discontentment.”

  My breath shudders out. “That’s a big promise.”

  He locks the door behind me, the snick of the lock signaling it’s on. “I can deliver. And if my sister asks, tell her you care for me. She’s sentimental about these things.”

  I stare at him. We’re so close we’re breathing the same air. That must be why I’m light-headed. Then I realize he told me that to warn me it’s just casual. He’s not sentimental about sex is what he’s really saying. Looks like we’re in agreement—long term we’d end up killing each other.

  “Just casual sex.” My voice comes out louder than I meant it to. “Good.”

  He nips my lower lip. “So let’s get to the good stuff.” He moves so quick I don’t have time to react, scooping me up, cradled in his arms. He sets me down on the bed and covers me with his body, a ghost of a smile crossing his lips before his mouth crashes down over mine. Gone is the slow, all-night kisses, and this, this rough plundering is exactly what I need. I widen my legs, welcoming him in close. Desire floods me as we fit together, the ache returning, needing him to fill me.

  I slide my hand through his thick hair, loving the feel of it, loving the weight and heat of him on top of me. He holds my jaw as his mouth claims mine, his soft beard rubbing against me. The kiss goes on and on, urgent and wild, my hips roc
king mindlessly under him, silently asking for more.

  He sits back on his heels and pulls his shirt off. I immediately sit up to explore, roaming my hands all over him.

  “Hold up,” he says, out of breath. He pulls his phone from his pocket and taps it a few times. “I have the feeling you’re going to be loud.” A moment later, a slow sexy song plays. He sets the phone on top of a cardboard box that seems to serve as a nightstand.

  I purse my lips. “Let me guess, your sex playlist.”

  “I hit shuffle.” He curls his hand around the back of my neck and kisses me long and deep. “Your turn.” He pulls my shirt off and undoes the front clasp of the bra. “Beautiful,” he says reverently, pushing me back onto the mattress.

  I sigh as he kisses a hot trail from my collarbone to my breast, stopping to nibble and taste on his way. His beard rubs against me, adding to the sensation. He kisses round and round my breast before drawing my nipple into his mouth. My breath stutters out at the firm wet tug, a direct line of pleasure to my sex. I throb against my jeans, my fingers tangling in his hair. Sensation coils inside me, tight and hot.

  “Wyatt,” I gasp out, “I need the jeans off. Everything.”

  He releases my nipple with a lingering taste and looks up at me. “All in good time.” Then he kisses my other breast, making his slow way round and round. I’m about to protest I need him too much for slow when his hand slides down to undo my jeans button and zipper. Yes! His fingers slip under my panties, and I nearly cry with relief.

  “You’re so wet,” he says, sliding his hand out of my panties and putting his finger in his mouth to taste.

  My breath catches, and then suddenly I’m wild with need. I push him off me enough to yank my jeans and panties down over my hips. I struggle to get them off, but I can’t do it with him hovering over me. “Off,” I order.

  He smirks. “Me or the jeans?”

  “Wyatt!”

  “Someone is demanding. Ten months must feel like a really long time to go without.”

  I clamp my mouth shut. It probably hasn’t been that long for him.

  He pulls my jeans and panties all the way off and tosses them on the floor. I reach for him, but he stays just out of reach, kneeling at my feet. He strokes up my calves, sliding slowly up my legs. “Why’d you wait so long, Sydney? You’re beautiful, smart, fiery. Any guy would want you.”