Friends with Benefits

by Amy Brent

  “Because you’re letting her, dude. Your ego got burned when she walked out on you, so you turned it around on her. Turnabout is fair play, and you got yours. Your mistake was calling her. You recognize it. Get over it. Learn from your mistake,” he said.

  “I just don’t get it,” I said.

  “Dude. Who the fuck cares? Quit bellyaching like a bitch and get over it,” he said.

  “Whatever.”

  “Excuse me?”

  The sweetest little country drawl came cascading down my back. At any other point in time, my cock would’ve trembled in anticipation. My skin would’ve been crawling to have her lips painting my neck in my hotel bed later tonight, but all I did was turn around and smile.

  “Depends on who’s asking,” I said, grinning.

  “Hi,” she said sweetly. “I’m Andrea.”

  “Andrea, what a lovely name. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Listen, I can most certainly understand the absolute courage it took to come over here and introduce yourself to someone like myself. Allow me to introduce you to the best man I know, Tony Thomas.”

  “Hello,” he said, grinning.

  “Oh, is this the friend you talk about in all your interviews?” she asked.

  “The one and only. You caught me at a horrendous time, but Tony here will take wonderful care of whatever it was you might’ve needed from me. I can assure you.”

  All I was met with was a giggle as I took her hand and brought it to my lips. Even as I kissed the top of her skin, there was nothing. No pull to take her to bed. No sexual want cascading through my bones. I handed her hand over to Tony, who was giving me a quizzical look. I winked at him before I slid off my seat, leaving my drink for him to pick up this time. He owed me from the last time he stuck me with the tab anyway.

  I walked back across the street and headed up to my hotel room. I pulled out my cell phone to call Sarah and was relieved when it actually started ringing. She didn’t pick up, which was pretty typical of her, but I knew if I called her back again she would.

  And like clockwork, the phone clicked alive.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  “I just want to talk. That’s all.”

  “No,” she said.

  “Sarah. What’s going on? What did I say? We agree to a fresh start, we have a conversation where we actually learn quite a bit about one another, and then you just leave. What happened? Just give me that.”

  “Do you not think your actions have consequences?” she asked.

  “I’m not following.”

  “Just a general observation. Do you think you just walk this planet without consequence because you have money?” she asked.

  “Nope. Can’t say that’s my mindset.”

  “Well, you sure as hell have a weird way of showing it.”

  “All right. Now that we’re done playing Jeopardy, mind giving me the question to this answer you’re spewing at me?” I asked.

  “Who is Emma Nelson?”

  The name froze me in my spot. My sister? She was pissed about my sister?

  “Are you pissed that I stood up my sister?” I asked.

  “No, I’m pissed that you stood up my best friend, who just happens to be your sister.”

  What? Holy fuck. Now it all made sense. Every single fucking thing about the dive bomb that was that lunch now made sense.

  “Emma Nelson is your best friend,” I said.

  “Yep.”

  “Shit. Sarah, I had no idea.”

  “Neither did I, until you said her name. And then it all clicked. With who you are and what you do to women. Do you know how many times I’ve held Emma crying because you wouldn’t take her calls?”

  “All she wanted to talk about was rekindling things with Mom. I told her if she wanted to talk about anything else, go ahead.”

  “You can’t do that if you don’t take her fucking calls, Mason. Want to know how many angry dinners I’ve had with her? Where she’s had to choke back tears just so she could eat because you kept canceling on her?” she asked.

  “I told you. I’m just not sure if I’m ready to travel that road yet,” I said.

  “You didn’t even give her the courtesy of calling her this time, Mason!” she exclaimed. “I had to watch my best friend cry into her fucking plate of food because of you.”

  I honestly didn’t know what to say. It made sense, but if she thought she was going to guilt trip me into opening a door I wasn’t ready to open, Sarah was sorely mistaken. She might have the whole of Dallas in the palm of her hand, but I wasn’t a Dallas resident. She didn’t have a bit of influence in this world outside of her dinky little talk show, and she was about to figure that shit out quickly.

  “That’s why we can’t be together,” she said. “No phone calls. No dates. Nothing. Emma wouldn’t approve, and by the way you’ve treated her, I can’t say I do, either.”

  “That’s bullshit, and you know it. All you’ve done is find an excuse to push me away before I hurt you first. You admitted it over lunch, the reason why you left after we slept together on our first date. I’ve chased you down. Come to your studio. Blown up your phone. Hell, I let you plan out the entire second date.”

  “Before you got revenge on me,” she said.

  “Looking back, not the best idea. So, we’ve both made some mistakes. But I think I’ve made it pretty clear that I can’t get you off my mind, no matter what the hell I do.”

  She went silent on the other end of the phone, and I was hoping to hell and back that didn’t mean she was about to hang up.

  “You’ve made my best friend cry. On several occasions. I can’t ignore that,” she said.

  “And I’d never expect you to. All I’m asking is for you to acknowledge the chemistry you know the two of us have.”

  “All right. Fine. Yes, I can admit we have chemistry,” she said.

  “Let me take you out one last time.”

  “No.”

  “Just once.”

  “No, Mason.”

  “If we go out one more time, and you don’t feel the chemistry. If you don’t feel that pull, that tug at the pit of your gut that screams for you to have just a little bit more, then I’ll walk away. For good. No phone calls, no showing up at your studio, no nothing.”

  “No nothing?” she asked.

  “All of it. Gone.”

  “Can I get this in writing?” she asked.

  “I’ll sign it in blood,” I said, grinning.

  I heard her chuckle just slightly on her end of the line, and I knew I had her. No woman could banter with me the way she could. No woman could infuriate me and settle me the way she did. Even with only three dates, I was hooked on something new. Something fierce. Something undeniably powerful.

  I needed to tread lightly, for both our sakes.

  “Okay. One more time,” she said.

  “Perfect. Thank you. Why don’t you just come over to my place Wednesday evening?”

  “You’re not going to pick me up?” she asked.

  “I figured if there’s no chemistry, you can at least have a way to get yourself home. We’ve stayed out of the cameras for now. No use risking it if this could be our last date.”

  “Makes sense,” she said. “Though I’m going to miss the wind in my hair.”

  “Trust me. If you admit to feeling what I know you do, there’ll be plenty of car rides with the top down in your future.”

  Silence descended on the conversation again, and I was praying I hadn’t overstepped a boundary. I heard her draw in a deep breath before she sighed, and I sat down on the edge of my hotel bed as I fiddled with the room key in my hand.

  “I’ll be there around seven,” she said.

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  I hung up the phone and promptly packed my things. There was no reason for me to stay here any longer, especially with the time I was spending in my Dallas home with her. I made sure to grab all my stuff before I made my way down to the front desk, and then I checked
out early before I headed to my car. I shot Tony a text message with my address, telling him that’s where I’d be for the rest of our Dallas stay if he needed me.

  Then, I got into my car and set off for the house.

  I needed to make sure I had all the ingredients I needed to cook her a wonderful meal for dinner tomorrow.

  Chapter 15

  Sarah

  Driving to Mason’s house, I felt my hands gripping hard on my steering wheel. I was nervous, and rightfully so. He was right when we talked yesterday. Our chemistry was undeniable. The pull I feel toward him and the pull he apparently feels toward me was unmistakable. Addicting. Hard to turn down. I knew I was trekking into dangerous territory, into a luring nighttime scenario that could very well end with me naked in his bed.

  I shivered with delight at the thought even as my mind chastised me.

  You can’t do this. Rein it in. He’s Emma’s brother.

  Even with the men I’d dated, I’d never experienced anything like this before, the longing my body had for his and the aching in the pit of my gut when I wasn’t around him. Did he blow up my phone incessantly? Yes. Did I enjoy every second of it? Oh, yes. The idea of bringing a rich, stuck-up playboy to his knees made me shiver to my core. It was something no other woman had been capable of. Sometimes Mason did a second date. But a third? Never.

  And this groveling? I’m sure Mason probably saw it as beneath him.

  Yet he was still doing it.

  Either way, I had to stand my ground. I had to go into this dinner, act like there wasn’t any chemistry, and leave without a second thought. No sleeping with him, no signals that showed I want to, and most certainly, no close quarter touching. His fingertips on my skin were electric, and the moment I allowed him to touch me, it was over.

  I’d be done for.

  I pulled up into his driveway and shut off my car. Some of the lights were on in his house, and I could smell the food he was cooking all the way outside. My mouth began to salivate as my stomach lurched in hunger, and I nearly forgot what I was doing. I forgot that I was trying to prove to Mason that we didn’t have any chemistry and that we couldn’t be together. I sat back in my car and inhaled the scents, smiling as I thought about what Mason would’ve looked like dancing around a kitchen.

  His strong arms flailing and his long legs carrying him about. His dexterous fingers sprinkling seasonings onto the food as his perfect pouty lower lip wrapped around a tasting spoon. I shivered as my mind drifted elsewhere. To his lips wrapping around my swollen clit. To his dexterous fingers parting my pussy folds as I lunged my hips into his face.

  Stop it, Sarah. He’s your best friend’s douchebag brother.

  I got out of my car and approached the porch. I knocked on the door, waiting for him to answer as I heard someone striding down the hallway. The door whipped open, and I smiled up at him, losing myself in his beautiful eyes as a grin crossed my cheeks.

  “I was wondering when you were getting out of that car,” he teased.

  “It smells delicious, even out there,” I said. “What in the world are you cooking?”

  “Lemon-basil chicken stuffed with brie, feta, and bacon with lemon-crusted roasted vegetables and garlic potatoes.”

  “I’m already salivating,” I said as I stepped inside.

  “I’ve set the table. If you’d like to go take a seat, I was just grabbing the wine.”

  I shrugged my coat off and he helped it down my arms. Already I could feel the heat from his skin cascading down my back, and I took a step away from him. I dropped my purse to the floor, and he picked it up, his eyes never leaving mine as he hooked both of my items up onto his coat rack.

  “You look stunning, Sarah,” he said.

  “Oh, this old thing? It was stuffed in the back of my closet,” I said.

  “Some of the best things in life are stuffed,” he said, grinning.

  I held my breath as my mind conjured an image of him plunging his cock between my legs.

  “Like my chicken,” he said, chuckling. “Let me go get our wine.”

  “Like your chicken, indeed,” I said, murmuring.

  “What was that, beautiful?” he asked.

  “I said I bet I’m going to like your chicken,” I called back.

  I slowly made my way to his dining room table and sat at one of the place settings. Suddenly, a glass was sat in front of me before his arm extended around my neck. He slowly poured the white wine, filling the glass as his cologne filled my nose. I could feel my body giving way to him, even at the dinner table as I leaned my cheek onto his clothed bicep.

  He stopped pouring the wine and stood there for a second, allowing me to soak him up before he moved.

  “So,” he said as he poured his wine and sat down. “How was the drive over?”

  “Not too bad,” I said as I put my napkin in my lap. “Not as fun as your convertible, but it was pleasant.”

  “Well, maybe I could take you on a drive later and let you fly your hair in the wind like you adore so much,” he said.

  I watched him take a bite of his vegetables, his lips curling around his fork. The way he moaned, rolling his eyes at his own food, it reminded me of a pride that was there. A pride that was both infuriating and sensual. He was confident in his capabilities, not overly critical when it didn’t matter. His strong jaw chewed his food, savoring the tastes as my eyes cascaded down his body. The candlelight on the table cast sharp shadows around his entire body, and for a moment, all I could do was sit back and take in the beauty of him.

  I hadn’t realized how long I was staring until his chuckle graced my ears.

  “Enjoying the view?” he asked.

  “Sorry. Sorry,” I said as I speared some food. “Just distracted.”

  “I can tell,” he said, smirking.

  “Oh, my gosh,” I said, moaning. “These vegetables are incredible. Who in the world taught you how to cook like this?”

  “My father. He’s a wonderful cook in the kitchen. It was something my mother didn’t know how to do well, so he took it over.”

  “Well, it’s incredible. If this technology company goes belly-up, you’ve got a career in food,” I said.

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I enjoy cooking, and I hear many a chef complaining about how they don’t enjoy personally cooking at home anymore because of their career choice. I enjoy cooking for others. I enjoy watching the happiness it brings to their faces. Even when people are at their worst, they always seem to be able to set it aside for good food.”

  “Isn’t that the truth.”

  I took a bite of the chicken and practically melted into my chair. I didn’t care how ridiculous I looked, this was the best dinner I’d ever had in my life. Better than any restaurant in Dallas I’d ever visited, and that was saying something. We ate in relative silence as we both hummed over the luscious foods, but then I felt something underneath the table.

  Mason’s foot slowly scooting toward mine.

  All of this was so romantic and so wonderfully cooked that I had completely forgotten about the purpose of this dinner. Mason was trying to show me we had chemistry, and I was trying to show him we didn’t.

  And the flush creeping up into my cheeks wasn’t doing my argument any favors.

  “Care for some more wine?” he asked.

  “If I have any more wine, I’m going to have to camp out on your couch,” I said, giggling.

  “I would most certainly not allow you to sleep on my couch,” he said. “You would sleep in my bed.”

  “Yeah, with you right next to me.”

  “Oh, that would most certainly be the plan, yes.”

  I looked up into his shining eyes, those eyes that whispered of mischief and magic. I was looking back into the demon’s eyes. His tempting muscles and his long neck were begging for my teeth. My fingernails. My marks as I writhed against his skin. I watched him pour me another glass of wine as the skin on my arms began to prickle. The heat his body was emitting drenched me i
n his presence, and I shivered physically as he backed away and sat down.

  “Feeling cold?” he asked.

  “Not at all,” I said as I grabbed the wine glass.

  “How were your interviews this week?” he asked. “Anything interesting?”

  “You mean any of them as interesting as yours?” I asked.

  “Actually, no, believe it or not. Were any of them interesting to you?”

  I looked up at him in surprise. Was he serious? Was he actually wondering how work was going for me so far this week?

  “Well, um. Yeah. Yeah, I take an interest in all my interviews. The firemen one was especially important to me because I think that business and building owners are becoming lackadaisical in their responsibilities to their tenants.”

  “I actually watched that interview, and I agree with you. It’s despicable that the fire could’ve been completely prevented had they updated the wiring. Priced out roughly, it would’ve only cost them around one-hundred and fifty-thousand dollars. For the whole building. If you’re budgeting your business right, and even if that is the only building they own, they should’ve had more than enough money to do it.”

  “Exactly. I mean, downtown Dallas is full of apartments. That’s all it is. How many more of those buildings aren’t up to code? How many people’s lives are in—wait. Did you say you watched the interview?” I asked.