by Karr, Kim
“Can you ask Tess if she used a realtor to look at Bigelow’s place or if she answered one of his ads directly?”
I twist my lip. “Yeah, I’ll try.”
“Try?”
“Try!” I hiss.
With amusement in his eyes, Hayden sits forward. “What did you do, Nick?”
I narrow my stare at him. “What makes you think I did something?”
Both of his brows pop. “Because I know you.”
“I’ll give you that,” I smirk, “But hell if I did, I have no fucking clue what.”
“What did you say that set her off? That’s always a good place to start.”
I shrug. “I don’t really recall.”
“Did you tell her you love her?”
My eyes widen. “What? Fuck no, we’re only friends.”
The smirk on his face is meant to aggravate me. “Right, and the Bulls are going to go all the way this season.”
Conceding, I admit, “We might be slightly more than friends. How the fuck do you know anyway?”
Hayden’s mouth quirks up even higher at one corner. “Come on dude, your voice goes up an octave or two when you talk about her.”
Incredulous, I respond with, “No, it doesn’t.”
“Yeah, it does, now tell me what happened?”
Ignoring the grade school boy comment, I tell Hayden a stripped down version of the story, leaving out the blowjob part. I didn’t think Tess would appreciate that.
With a shake of his head, he says, “Listen, man, I’ve been with Allie for five years, and I still fuck up all the time. But I’ve learned something you might want to know—sometimes you just have to say you’re sorry even if you have no idea why.”
I lean back in my chair. “She called me a jerk—again, and I have to be the one to apologize.”
“You are a jerk,” he laughs.
I flip him my middle finger.
“No seriously, she’s probably feeling uncertain about what’s going to happen when the two of you aren’t caring for Max anymore.”
All I can do is stare at him.
“If I were you, I’d start by discussing what’s next, and soon.”
Stunned by the fact that Hayden is giving me advice on how to deal with women, I seek council on the biggest question. “What if I don’t know what comes next?”
Hayden stands and looks right at me. “Then you better figure it out—fast.”
Great.
Just fucking great.
Tess
THINGS AREN’T EXACTLY going smoothly—in both my business and personal worlds. In fact, both are rather a mess right now.
Turns out the floorboards in the backroom of the café are rotted and need replacing. And the pipes are so old, they too need to be replaced. In addition, two coats of paint isn’t covering up the water stains on the walls from an old leak, and the painter recommends some kind of treatment be used and then he’ll need to repaint again.
All of these things require capital, a lot of capital. Unfortunately, the small business loan I applied for hasn’t been approved yet. Turns out since I wasn’t on any of the accounts that I managed at Gaspard, my credit hasn’t been established. The loan officer isn’t sure how long it will take for all the paperwork to go through. If my funds run out before the loan is approved, I will have to put the renovations of the café on hold.
That will only cost me more money.
As if all that isn’t enough, whatever this thing is I have going on with Nick will probably be over by Thursday. And oddly enough, that makes me sad. I’m not ready for it to end.
It’s after ten o’clock by the time I pull into Fiona and Ethan’s driveway. The snow had stopped falling days ago, but the temperature hasn’t warmed up at all. Fiona and Ethan’s vehicles are in the garage, and I park next to Nick’s Range Rover on the pavement. I’m not quite ready to brave the cold between my car and the back door, but because I am exhausted, I open my car door and make a run for it.
My fingers are already getting numb as I fumble with the key. When I finally turn it, I realize the door isn’t locked.
Nick.
This means Nick is still awake.
Every night he has gotten up to check all the doors, even though I have reassured him they were locked. That’s how I know he’d never go to bed without locking up.
More than likely he’s waiting for me.
In the downstairs entryway, I remove my boots, hat and coat, and slowly climb the steps. As soon as I hit the top one, I see him across the room sitting on the stairs that lead upstairs. The room is dimly lit, only a single light on over the kitchen sink, but I can see him clearly. His elbows are on his knees, and his hands under his chin.
“Nick?” I say softly.
He nods, his lips pressed firmly together. “We need to talk.” he responds getting to his feet.
He’s going to break it off with me.
I nod back, knowing this was coming, but still not ready for it. I tried to prepare myself when he hadn’t called or texted me all day. And I couldn’t believe how much I missed hearing his husky voice or reading his funny emails, his lewd innuendoes, and his dirty text messages. I’ve grown used to them over the past two weeks, especially the dirty texts. Things like:
I’m thinking tonight while I eat your pussy, you can suck my cock.
And then there are things like this sent in the middle of the day:
I’m thinking about stopping by the café before picking Max up and finger fucking you, anyone around?
At first I’d roll my eyes while reading them. But then I would wonder if he was in a meeting or on his computer when the thoughts struck him.
Was he hard?
After a while though, I’d crave the messages. I would be at the café or with Max when I received them and pause for a moment to envision his suggestion. Shivers would usually roll over me at first glance. Once I’d calmed myself, I’d answer back with something like:
Sixty-nine—I don’t think so,” or “Finger-fucking is way overrated.
Despite my text responses, we always did as he suggested because come on, there is really nothing better than a sixty-nine, and finger-fucking is definitely not overrated.
Now all that will be over because I . . . I . . . I don’t know what. Wanted to be more than a sexual object to him? Wanted him to say something to me that wasn’t based on sex? Wanted him to—what?
That’s the question, isn’t it?
I clear my throat. “Should we sit on the couch?”
He nods.
We meet in the middle of the room and Nick places his hand on the small of my back. I swallow back my emotion. It started this way, and it will end this way. Seems rather fitting.
We both sit on the couch, not really close, but not that far apart. Nick immediately turns to me and allows his gaze to flicker over me for a few short seconds before speaking. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.
Surprised, I blink and again swallow back my emotion. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry,” I say softly. “I had no right to act like that. We’ve been fuck buddies, and that’s what fuck buddies do—talk about sex.”
Nick places his hand on my knee. “Tess,” he says in a shaky voice, “I’m not very good at the relationship thing. Sex with women is all I know.”
I give him a weak smile. “I know that, and I never should have expected more.”
He moves closer, his hand squeezing my knee tighter. “Yeah, you should have. We both know this,” he motions between the two of us, “isn’t only about sex. Don’t get me wrong, the sex is amazing, but there is more.”
Taken completely off guard by the direction this conversation is taking, I stare wide-eyed at him.
I was not expecting anything like this.
That’s when he takes my face between his hands as if wanting to reassure me that this is real. “You have to be patient with me, Tess. Saying things like, ‘I can’t wait to see you,’ is so much harder for me than saying, ‘I can’t wait to fuck you
.’ To me, they both are meant to convey the same message, but I realize you don’t know that. Hell, I don’t even think I knew that was what I wanted to say until about ten hours ago when you left me standing alone in the kitchen.”
My stomach does a little flip, and I mentally warn myself to proceed with caution. Still, I feel a pull to him that I can’t resist, and I cover his hand with mine. “I like when you tell me you want to fuck me,” I joke before admitting, “but with Fiona and Ethan returning so soon, I think I just started to mentally prepare myself for the end.”
He moves our hands down to his lap and rubs the back of mine with his thumbs. “I’m not planning on this ending after they return. I don’t know what the future holds. I can’t make any promises, but I swear I want to see where this thing we have goes. I’m not going to tell you being with me is going to be easy. I’m a dick. An asshole. A jerk,” he grins. “And that isn’t going to change overnight. I’m unsteady. In unchartered water. And I’m going to fuck up. Can you handle that?”
I bite my lip. “I can handle just about anything you throw at me, Mr. Nick Carrington.”
His brow rises. “Even if I want you to call me sir?”
With the heavy conversation over, I decide to get back to us. “I’d be happy to call you sir.”
“You would?”
“Sure. As long as I get a turn at being the dominant once in a while.”
He shakes his head. “No way. There are no turns.”
“Sure there are. You aren’t a real dom, and I’ll never be a real submissive, so if you want to play the game, you have to take turns. Max should have taught you that by now.”
He moves even closer and hovers above my lips. “Never going to happen.”
“We’ll see,” I grin.
At that he tugs me to him. “Just kiss me.”
And I do.
Soft at first.
Then hard.
Our mouths crash and teeth clash.
Starved for what we weren’t sure we would ever have again, we practically devour each other.
When we are both breathless, Nick pulls back. “Now that that is settled, do you want to make up by sitting on my face?”
Before I can answer with an absolutely, he wraps his arms tightly around me and whispers in my ear, “Just kidding, baby. How about we get you to bed? And by bed I mean sleep. You look exhausted.”
Funny how sometimes the things you wish for work out and backfire at the same time.
Nick
EVEN AT THIRTY, I’m still experiencing firsts. How crazy is that? I’ve never just slept with a woman—ever.
And up in the spare room, with Tess looking at me the way she is, I start to reconsider the whole no-sex thing.
But no, I can do this.
I need to prove to her she means more to me than just being someone to bang, or fuck, or screw.
Yeah, sex is on my mind.
Especially when I kiss her on the nose and slowly work her sweater upward.
“You don’t have to undress me,” she protests.
“I want to. Now stand still.”
She does.
I tug the sweater the rest of the way and spend a few seconds staring at her bra. Skimpy, provocative, and I think new. “Did you buy this for me?” I ask, running my finger under the strap.
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
I go to work on the fly of her jeans. “Always so sassy. That’s what makes you fucking perfect for me.”
“I don’t know if you’re the crazy one, or if I am,” she giggles.
I work her jeans down her smooth thighs and try not to stare at her sexy panties. “Those new too?” I ask, bobbing my chin in the direction of her pussy. My alternative was to lick it, but I’m trying to be good.
“Yes, they are.”
I step back and admire her. “You look incredible in them.”
“I appreciate the compliment.”
Feeling myself getting hard, I quickly pull back the sheets. “Get into bed.”
Her eyes wide, she slides in.
After turning the light off, I pull my shirt off and shove my pants down, and then slide in beside her.
“Nick,” she whispers.
“Yeah,” I whisper back.
“When I was seventeen, I did something that changed my life.”
I move her hair from her eyes and snuggle closer. “Sounds serious.”
“It was very serious at the time. I’d met this boy . . .”
Tess tells me the story about her boyfriend and his twin brother, and she tells me about how her parents caught them and thought something was wrong with her, so they sent her away.
“Baby,” I whisper, “you were seventeen and curious. Nothing was wrong or different about you, I promise. Sex is different for everyone. The couple that lives to the right might like to do it in the shower every morning, and the couple that lives to the left might only like to get it on once a month in the dark. But if you mixed them, who knows, the new couple might like to do it in public places, or on the kitchen table.”
She laughs. “You have such a way, but I get what you mean. And I know all that, now. Back then though, it really messed with me. And sometimes I go back to that dark place, and think, “There is something wrong with me. I am different.”
I throw my leg over hers. “I’ll take your different every day of the week, and twice on Sunday. It works great with mine.”
She laughs even harder, and then turns to face me. “Are you serious about the no sex thing tonight?”
“Dead serious,” I tell her, waffling now that she asked, but trying my best to go through with it.
She turns around and settles her head on her pillow.
I adjust my head to be closer to hers. “About the box I gave you earlier,” I whisper in her ear, “I’ve never done that, and I thought it would be something we could experience for the first time together.”
She flips back toward me again. “You haven’t?”
I shake my head.
“Really?”
“Really,” I grin.
“We’ll have to change that, won’t we.” At that she twists back around and a few minutes later I can hear the soft sound of her breathing.
She’s fallen asleep.
I lean over and whisper, “Goodnight, Tess,” and then I hold her tightly.
Something inside me feels different.
Something I haven’t felt for a woman since I was ten years old.
Something that feels an awful lot like love.
Tess
I AWAKE TO a hard male body wrapped solidly around me. The clock on the table beside me glows four fifty-eight.
Not time to get up yet.
I close my eyes tight and try to go back to sleep.
I can’t.
My mind is thinking about what Nick said, and the dirty thing, not the words of wisdom. “Now that that is settled, do you want to make up by sitting on my face?”
Such a dirty, dirty boy.
And I already established that I’m a dirty, dirty, girl, so of course, I dreamt about what he said. The dream was so real that my clit aches right now. He proved his point—sex isn’t the only thing on his mind.
And I believe him.
That doesn’t mean I don’t want to have it, though.
With my ex, sex was always on the fly, squeezed in here or there. I was young when we met, and still worried that I was too promiscuous, so I held back. Not that it mattered, most of the time we were like two ships that passed in the night. He came to bed when I got up.
With Nick, it’s different. I like the routine he and I have created. The time we have carved out to be together in both the morning and the night.
It’s nice.
Makes me feel wanted.
Horny, I push myself back, rubbing my ass against his groin. In response, he squeezes me harder, but doesn’t say anything. I do it again, and then one more time.
The stubble of his jaw slides over my shoulder and then his hot
mouth is in my ear. “Good morning.”
I push myself back again and feel the hardness of his cock against me. “Good morning,” I respond.
“What are you doing?” he asks, nipping at my ear.
“You’re a smart man, I think you can figure that out.”
He peers over my shoulder toward the clock. “It’s early. Go back to sleep for another hour.”
I push myself back against him again. “I can’t.”
He rests his head on my shoulder. “Why not?”
I twist around to look at him. “I can’t stop thinking about what you said last night, and I keep dreaming about it.”
His sleepy eyes blink a few times. “About seeing where things go?”
I shake my head. “No, about the way you wanted to make up with me.”
A gorgeous smile spreads across his full lips.
“But if you’re too tired, I can just take care of myself.”
In a beat, he has me on my back, my arms pinned over my head, and he’s hovering over me. “There will be no masturbating without me present to watch.”
I look at him incredulously. “I don’t think so.”
He presses his growing erection into me. “I mean it. I want to know if I’m not satisfying you.”
I stare up. “Sometimes it has nothing to do with that. Sometimes the itch just arises.”
“Then if we’re not together, call me.”
I consider this. “If I can’t masturbate on my own, then neither can you.”
He lets go of my arms and both his brows lift. “Tess, a man’s needs are different.”
I rise slightly. “That is so not true.”
“It is. I usually have one in the shower every morning if,” he pauses, “you know?”
“If you haven’t gotten laid the night before.”
“Yeah,” he says sheepishly.
“I guess you’ll just have to change your morning routine then. Go for a longer run. Do a couple hundred push-ups. Whatever it takes to scratch the itch.”
He stares down at me. “You really are a little vixen.”
“Call me whatever you want,” I say, “but what is fair is fair.”
“Fine,” he mutters.
“Good, now that that is settled, should I take care of myself, or would you like to help a girl out?”
