Frenemies

by Nicole Blanchard

  Not a chance in hell. If he got to taste me, then I wanted to taste him. I wanted it more than anything in the world at that moment, so instead, I met his eyes, and continued to stroke him. He groaned again, his eyes rolling back. I felt him get impossibly harder in my hands, heard him moan, then tasted his release as he spilled into my mouth almost faster than I could swallow.

  When it became too much, he reached down and stilled my hands. I released him with an audible pop, and he gathered me up onto his lap as we both came down.

  I wasn’t sure where we went from here—where could we—but I was going to soak up whatever moments we had left until reality came screaming back.

  CHAPTER TEN

  DASH

  WE MUST HAVE FALLEN ASLEEP TANGLED TOGETHER, our clothes half off and me still in my shoes, because when I cracked my eyes open, I found myself in an unfamiliar room with Layla curled on my side, snoring softly. Her hair was a knotted mess spilling over my chest and her mascara was smeared under her eyes, but she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.

  I gave serious thought to waking her up and taking her right there while she was soft and sleepy. I could imagine it, how silky her skin would be under my roughened palms, how her body would wake to my touch. I’d want her on the brink before her eyes ever opened, then I’d want to push her over just as she came fully awake.

  One day, maybe, when things weren’t so complicated.

  Instead, I gently shifted her to the side and brushed her hair away. “Layla.” When she only groaned and batted me away, I smiled. “Hey, sweet cheeks, it’s time to get up and stop being lazy.”

  At that, she cracked open a bloodshot eye and glared at me, which—fucked up as it may be—was almost as satisfying as bringing her to orgasm. She winced and covered her face, then dragged at the blanket covering us to wrap around her body.

  As she sat up and stretched, I got to my feet, readjusted my pants, and zipped them. I tried not to think about how it had felt to have her hands and mouth wrapped around me, how her eyes had smoldered when she looked up at me with her mouth full of my cock. Tried and failed.

  Clearing my throat, I asked, “You mind if I use your bathroom?”

  She shook her head, her eyes wide, and I knew she was wrapping her head around what had happened the night before. I wasn’t sure what side of the fence she’d land on, but I figured it was best to give her time to adjust. I used the john, washed my hands, and threw some water on my face.

  The bathroom is where the scent of her was strongest. From the shower or the perfume bottles and lotions she had on the counter. It made me think of her naked, lathering on soap or spreading cream on her skin, and my dick decided it fucking loved that thought.

  I found her in the kitchen wearing a blue silk robe. It was thin enough I could see the material of her thong at the top of her ass showing through. I could get used to seeing her half-dressed and sleep-mussed, I decided, and ambled up behind her. She’d had enough time to adjust, and I wasn’t going to give her any more to decide it had been a mistake.

  She stiffened slightly at my touch as I wrapped my arms around her waist and pressed the growing hardness of my dick against her ass. I didn’t want to scare her, but I didn’t want her to forget what she did to me either, or what I did to her.

  “Dash,” she began, then choked on her words when I kissed her neck. Her shiver against me sent shocks throughout my own body.

  “Don’t get bashful on me now,” I said, then moved off to pour us both a mug of coffee. “We’re both adults.”

  She flipped the bacon she was crisping in the skillet. “Yeah, but you’re also my T.A. and we could both get into a whole heap of trouble. This…we…”

  Handing her mug to her, I tipped up her chin to look into her eyes. “We don’t know what this is yet, Layla. I’m not going to push you into anything before you’re ready, including a relationship, but most especially sex.”

  Layla choked on the coffee. “Relationship? You have relationships?”

  I pressed a hand to my heart. “You wound me again, sweet cheeks. Is sex all you want me for? I feel used.”

  Fighting a smile, she removed the bacon and put it on a paper towel to drain. “You know what I mean. I’ve never seen you actually date someone before. I thought you were more…”

  “Of a manwhore?” I prompted.

  Her cheeks burned and she distracted herself by cracking a couple eggs into the grease. “No, more casual, I guess. You seemed to like to play the field in high school.”

  “Maybe that’s because the one person I was interested in couldn’t seem to stand being around me.”

  She spun around. “Don’t tease. I’m trying to be honest with you.”

  I shrugged. “Whose teasing?”

  Her mouth dropped open and she gaped. “You can’t be serious!”

  “For someone who claims to be so smart, you sure can be dense sometimes.”

  At that, she returned her focus back to the food and was silent as she turned the eggs, then plated them with bacon and toast. I allowed her to stew a little, and finished my coffee as I sat on a stool at the little island bar and watched her. Every now and again, she’d glance back as though to reassure herself I was there, then turn back to her cooking.

  When she set a plate in front of me, she said, “What do you want from me?”

  “To the point then, huh?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t like playing games. And you’re very good at playing them. This is one area where I’d let you win—because I don’t like to gamble—and we’ve both got a lot to lose.”

  I considered her as I forked some eggs into my mouth. She ate like she did everything else, purposefully, no doubt with a plan and a checklist. As she carefully cut her eggs into neat little sections, I recalled what it had been like to watch her come apart, to taste her release on my tongue, and know she could break apart because of me.

  I wanted that again. Wanted to be inside her when she did and feel her grip me tight as she came. I’d be lying if I wasn’t hesitant at the thought of being her first, but at the same time, I wanted to take her and make her mine.

  “You’re talking about the class?” I said when I could speak again.

  She nodded, sipped her coffee. “It’s a requirement for me to graduate for the business side of my double major. If we got caught, I’m not sure what the consequences are, but the one thing I am sure of is that it wouldn’t be pretty—for either of us.”

  “I get that. You’re not wrong to be cautious. I didn’t intend for any of this to happen, but that doesn’t mean I regret it either.”

  “Then we’re in agreement that whatever this is, stops now,” she said primly and bit into a piece of bacon.

  I almost laughed and I could hear it in my voice as I said, “Not a chance.”

  Her eyes bulged. “Dash, as fun as it was, we both could be damaged by the fallout. You could lose your job. My major. Do you really think some orgasms are worth the risk?”

  I polished off the rest of my eggs and bacon, then got to my feet and pressed a kiss to her surprised lips. “No, I don’t. But I think you are.” When she simply stared in shock, I smiled. “I’ll see myself out.”

  Before I could leave, there was a knock at the door. Eyes wide, Layla bolted to press her eye to the peephole. She spun around with a hand pressed to her stomach. Whoever was on the other side, Layla didn’t look happy to see them.

  Her face drained of color, she said, “It’s my mother.”

  She didn’t need to explain for me to understand. I recalled all too well the way her mother had treated her at graduation. And that had only been one slice of one day of Layla’s life. Who knew how she’d been treated behind closed doors?

  “Get me a ziplock bag full of coffee grounds,” I instructed, as her face showed increasing panic.

  “What? How can you want coffee right now? If she sees you here, she’s going to go ballistic.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

 
Layla shook her head, but she was too distraught to argue for once. “I don’t see how coffee grounds are going to take care of it, but I’m willing to do anything. She can’t know about us. Not that I’m ashamed or whatever, but—”

  I came up behind her as she measured out coffee. “I’m aware of what your mother is like, Layla. I’m not afraid of her, but if you need more time, I’ll give it to you. Now give me a kiss.”

  Before she could argue, I took her mouth and kissed her breathless, kissed her boneless. When all the tension had eked from her system, I ran my hands up her back, then down to palm her ass. She moaned against my lips and I eased myself away, leaving her breathing heavily.

  “That should relax you enough to deal with her, but don’t let her bulldoze you over. Pretend she’s me,” I added with a wicked grin. “You don’t seem to have any problem handling me, do you, sweet cheeks?”

  She ran a hand through her mussed hair. “I can’t seem to figure you out anymore,” she said.

  “Good, that’ll keep you nice and off-balance. Just the way I like you.”

  Shaking her head, she led me to the door. Bag of coffee in hand, I pulled it open and found Layla’s mother on the other side. The look of surprise was worth the entire experience. To Layla, I said, “Thanks for letting me borrow some coffee. I wouldn’t have been able to start my day without it. Hi there, Mrs. Tate. Your daughter is a lifesaver.”

  Blinking owlishly, Mrs. Tate said, “Is she?” with a little wrinkle between her brows that said she didn’t quite understand what was going on.

  “Nice to see you, ma’am,” I told her, then winked at Layla over her shoulder. “Thanks again for the coffee, Ms. Tate.”

  “Mom?” I heard Layla say as I made my way down the hall to the elevator. “What are you doing here?”

  Layla hustled her mother inside, no doubt to keep her from ogling me and putting two and two together. I wasn’t as worried.

  The look Mrs. Tate had given me was one I well recognized. First there was shock. Her gaze had shifted between Layla and me. From my powers of observation, I deduced she was surprised as hell to find Layla with company over on a weekend, let alone male company. When she’d realized who I was in particular, a Hampton, her eyes had glazed over with a look I knew all too well.

  It was a combination of greed, envy, and appreciation that made me want to duck and cover. No doubt there wasn’t much fooling going on as far as why I was in her daughter’s apartment, but I didn’t want to give her any excuse to make Layla’s day harder than it had to be. It probably didn’t help too much, and I cursed Mrs. Tate for her terrible timing.

  All the progress I made was about to be undone, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  LAYLA

  I WAS at Einstein’s the following Monday, trying to pretend like everything was normal. But no amount of cream cheese or cappuccinos could erase the memory of the night with Dash from my mind. And I wasn’t sure I wanted it to.

  My phone rang and I answered it out of habit, not giving a thought to who could be on the other line.

  “What were you doing with Dash Hampton Sunday morning?” my mother asked without preamble. Like she’d been asking ever since she ran into him at my apartment.

  So much for carbs cheering me up. I paid the cashier and juggled the paperback with my bagel and the to-go cup of sustenance. “He lives in the building and wanted to borrow some coffee. He’d just moved in. Remember?” If it wasn’t in Mom’s sphere or directly related to her agenda, it was unlikely she paid any attention to it. I had to tell her two and three times before she remembered anything she didn’t consider important.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to associate with him. His family is influential of course, but he’ll just distract you from your schoolwork and the position at Kragen’s next summer. Just like your father did with me.” No doubt she’d given thought to marrying me off like this was some Victorian era deal to be capitalized on. Her distaste for men after my father left her must have soured her on the thought of the Hampton name.

  I pulled the phone away from my ear and wondered if I’d fallen into an alternate universe. Putting it back to my ear, I said, “Who I spend my time with is none of your business. Besides, I can’t completely avoid him, he’s a T.A. for one of my classes. I literally have to see him three times a week. Not to mention he lives in the same building. I can’t use the stairs forever.”

  Her sigh filled the line. That sigh characterized my childhood. It said, ‘You’ll always disappoint me.’ “Then drop the class. He’s bad news, Layla.”

  “If I drop the class, I won’t have enough credits to graduate with the business degree, Mom, so unless you want me to lose the opportunity at Kragen’s, you’ll drop it.”

  Then, I did something I’ve never done in my whole life, I hung up on her. She called back three times on my way across campus to Dash’s class alone, but for once, I wasn’t overcome by anxiety because of it. I had bigger things to worry about.

  I pushed into the lecture hall and then the nerves made themselves known. How was I supposed to be in the same room with him after what we’d done, let alone along with thirty or so other students?

  Dash was waiting at the front of the room, bent over his laptop, a crease between his brows. He wore a thin navy-blue sweater and dark wash jeans. I’d always known he was attractive, you’d have to be dead not to notice, but now I knew what it was like to feel that body underneath my hands, pressed against my own. It only took looking at him and I was flushed with heat and want.

  As though he could sense me, he looked up and I caught him smiling before he smothered it.

  Oh, boy, I was in trouble.

  “Excuse me,” said a petite freshman as she tried to navigate around me.

  Ignoring Dash’s grin, I took my usual seat in the back of the hall. It used to be because I couldn’t stand being so close to Dash for fifty minutes, but now it was because I didn’t want to be sitting around any of my classmates while I ogled him and remembered what it felt like when he was hard, hot, and in my hands.

  I could barely concentrate as he began his lecture. I was grateful he didn’t feel the need to call on me to answer any questions. I couldn’t have formed a coherent sentence if I tried. Besides, I didn’t want to draw any attention my way. I was already terrified someone could tell things were different between us, even though it had only been one night. I felt different. We hadn’t even had sex, yet I felt like he was already a part of me, down to my bones.

  “Ms. Tate,” he called toward the end of class. The way he said my name made my heart flutter.

  Then, I smiled a little. Good girl Layla Tate was feeling very bad indeed. “Yes, Mr. Hampton?”

  Dash had been leaning across the podium and when his name rolled off my lips, he straightened. There was a lengthy pause and I imagined he was breathing a little harder. I knew exactly how it would sound.

  “Can you pass out these assignments for me, please?” I couldn’t be imagining the rough edge to his voice, and I could feel his eyes on me as I distributed the papers along the rows of students.

  At the end of class, I took my time packing up my stuff and wasn’t disappointed when Dash met me at my seat. He leaned over casually, like he was going to talk about the assignment. With heated eyes roaming over me, he said, “I think you need another lesson, Ms. Tate.”

  I was sure my eyes were sparkling. “Is that so, Mr. Hampton?”

  “When’s your last class?” he asked.

  “Cancelled. I’m free the rest of the day. You?”

  “Office hours. But I could make myself busy.”

  I had a feeling I knew how busy he’d like to be. “I’d hate to be the one to interrupt your schedule. Why don’t you come over after?”

  His smile faded. “Are you sure about that?”

  Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I said, “I guess you’ll see when you get there.”

  “ARE you su
re you know what you’re doing?” Ember asked, as I scurried around my apartment wondering how I could accumulate so much clutter in less than twenty-four hours.

  “What are you talking about?” I was nearly out of breath from sweeping and scrubbing down counters.

  “I saw the way you and Dash were looking at each other when you were at my place. I’m assuming he’s who you’re cleaning for.”

  I stopped scrubbing the island countertops. “What are you talking about?”

  “C’mon, Layla, I’m not an idiot.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s your T.A. though. Isn’t that like against the rules?”

  “Even if something was happening which it’s not, I’d be careful.”

  “Layla!” Ember said in a chiding tone. “I’m shocked. I’m all for you losing your V-card, but is Dash really the one you want to lose it to?”

  I began to wipe down the counters again, but my mind was preoccupied. It warred between memories of Dash and his near-constant insults throughout school and how it had felt being in his arms.

  Ember whistled low and long. “Girl, you don’t even have to answer that question. I can practically read it on your face. He must have been a good kisser.” My face flamed and split with a wide smile. At that, Ember laughed. “Oh my God, I wish you could see your face right now. He must have done better than kiss you. I want all the dirty details.”

  I folded over and beat my head against the counter. “Ember, I don’t know what I’m doing. Part of me still hates him for, you know, everything he’s ever done to me. Trust me, he’s been an absolute dick sometimes, but then, I don’t know, there’s another side to him. One I can’t seem to stop thinking about.”

  “Is that side located in his pants?” Ember asked, her voice colored with laughter.

  “Don’t joke. This is serious. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  Ember padded to the kitchen and pulled me upright. Tucking hair behind my ears, she said, “Honestly, Chris and I have been together a long time and sometimes I think I still don’t know anything about love or relationships.”