Bad Friend

by Carmen Falcone

  She turned to lock the door, when she bumped into a muscly wall. She yelped.

  “Shhh…” Damian closed the door behind her.

  She stepped backward until her ass pressed against the cool granite countertop. “You’re crazy.” What are you doing here? The question burned at the tip of her tongue, but deep down she knew a different kind of fire had brought him there. Excitement arrowed in opposite directions through her body, so hard and so fast she felt lightheaded.

  “Right now, I’m crazy,” he growled, erasing the gap between them. Within a breath of her, he hooked his finger under her chin as if to make sure she read the desire in his eyes. Even with the dim lighting, she saw enough craving to weaken her knees. “Insane. A fucking lunatic.”

  She parted her lips, and a furtive moan slipped out, filling the room. He dipped his head and captured her lips with his—or perhaps she had inched closer and wrapped her arms around his head, kissing him like she was in the death row and he was her last meal. And what a meal…

  He dominated the kiss with vigorous strokes, but behind his veiled power lay an undertone of needy desperation. She matched his urgency, wrapping her legs around him, her thighs trembling, her heart galloping out of her chest. God, Damian was… he was air and light and water. He became all she needed.

  He nipped her lower lip, then slid his hand down her body and hiked up her dress. She quivered, her flesh heating under his command. When he slipped a couple of fingers into her underwear and pulled it down, she whimpered. “You’re so wet for me,” he said into her ear, his hot breath sensitizing all her nerve endings like a teasing feather.

  He lifted her onto the granite countertop and traced a path of kisses from her mouth to her neck down her chest. Even over the fabric, his tongue seared her, tightening her nipple and burning her bloodstream.

  He buried his head in between her legs, and she threw her own head back, touching the mirror. Growling, he lapped his tongue at her sex, French kissing her most intimate part and provoking a stir to shoot up her body and sizzle every cell in its path.

  She bucked her hips, eager to give him more access and multiply those ripples of excitement flooding through her. He placed his hands under her ass, and pressed his face further in, this time suckling her folds until they produced another coat of female arousal.

  If she weren’t on the granite countertop, she’d be bucking her knees and falling to the floor. He flicked his tongue over her clit, inserting three fingers into her pussy. She yelped, surprised, but within an instant pleasure replaced the shock, and she loosened her limbs.

  Relentlessly, almost as if he punished her, Damian teased her bud with the tip of his tongue while thrusting his fingers in and out of her, filling her to the hilt then retreating only to plunge inside again, curling his fingers and touching her G-spot. She sank her teeth over her lower lip to keep from shouting his name.

  She thrust her fingers into his hair, pulling chunks of his hair and then scratching his scalp, hoping to make him burn for her as she burned for him. In retaliation, he increased the tempo, and hit her magic spot once again. This time, she no longer could hold back.

  Ripples of pleasure shifted into a strong tide, riding her from top to bottom. She gripped the edge of the countertop, letting him savor every last bit of her until the waves subsided and her breathing quietened.

  He stood and glanced at her with hooded eyes. She cleared her throat, closing her legs and pulling down her dress. She came, but what about him? She blinked, reality dawning on her.

  They were… in a bathroom, and her date still waited for her at the table.

  Heat filled her cheeks and neck. “Why did you come here?” she asked Damian. His crazy excuse wouldn’t cut it this time. If he thought he would just lick her and leave her, he was dead wrong. She finger combed her hair, hoping to put the stubborn strands into place.

  “I couldn’t handle the idea of you being on a date,” he said. A touch of vulnerability flickered in his eyes. “I’ve dealt with a lot lately, but not you with another man.”

  Good. A delightful sensation expanded in her chest. “Then you better get used to it. I’m in the market for a new boyfriend,” she said, fully aware that those words could swing the door close to him forever. But damn, she had to push him, a little more, to get the answer she needed—and deep down, that he wanted. Why would he come after her if he didn’t feel anything for her? Not love, not yet, but a little twinge of hope. A step in the right direction.

  “I can’t tell my kids—”

  “I’m not asking you to tell them,” she said honestly. Hell, she loved his children and didn’t want them to feel neglected or hate her. Amanda, anyway. Trevor wasn’t old enough to understand. “All I want is for you to keep an open mind about us. Take me on dates without being scared of people seeing us. We’ll take as long as you need to break the news to Amanda.” Or maybe they wouldn’t have to do it. Maybe they wouldn’t make it that far—but she didn’t want to see him under utter secrecy. “What do you say?”

  Damian twirled the pen between his fingers. Damn it. He should have said no.

  Saying yes hours ago had been easy, effortless. He’d agreed to keeping an open mind about them, about not burdening her with the concerns poking him. Now, in his office after a couple of quick routine surgeries, he looked at the words from a different place flashing on his screen like a distant lighthouse. He rubbed his temple, sighing.

  He couldn’t lose her. With the pressure of being a single father, work and the hospital, he had too much on his plate to deny himself the immense indulgence that Brit represented.

  A delicious morsel of paradise.

  “Dr. Forrest,” Adriana’s voice filtered through the intercom.

  “Yes?”

  “Candi O’Donnell wants to speak with you.”

  What could Candi possibly want? Invite him for a party or a fundraising event? He drummed his fingers on his desk. Those things could be easily done via email. “Hmmm… pass her through,” he said. Best to get it over with.

  “She’s here,” his assistant said in a clipped tone.

  He swallowed. A visit in person. An unexpected visit. “Let her in.”

  When she entered, he rose to his feet and approached her to shake her hands like he would a new patient. “Candi. Nice to see you. What brings you here?”

  Dressed in an all-white pantsuit ensemble, she smiled. “Thanks so much for seeing me. I expected to wait a lot longer than I did.”

  “No problem. Have a seat.” He gestured at her. “What can I help you with?”

  She sat quietly, her gaze darting around his office and the endless number of certificates and diplomas. He sat in front of her. Once done with the quick inventory of his office, she focused her attention on him again. “I came here because I’d like to see your plans for the project you want us to invest in.”

  Us? Not once had Bill mentioned she’d have any say in this, otherwise Damian would have included her from the beginning. He squared his shoulders. “I’ll be happy to share them with you. May I ask you what in particular interested you about the project?”

  “Damian, I’ll be honest with you… I’m considering divorcing my husband, therefore I need to know what he’s spending our money on.”

  “I’m sorry to hear,” he said. Apprehension trickled down his spine, forming a sheen of sweat on his forehead. Shit. Did she have the power to pull the plug on his dream? He glanced at her, wondering what kind of prenup agreement they’d made. He doubted a man like Bill wouldn’t have iron clad clauses to defend his own business and money.

  She glanced down, clutching her bag. “Yeah, me too.”

  “Well, where do I come in?”

  “I haven’t filed for it yet. I’m considering the divorce, but not fully sold on it. Still, I’ve met a couple of lawyers to get ready. I wanted to see if I approve of your idea, and if I do, I’ll wait until he signs the papers to divorce him.”

  “That seems awfully generous of you to co
nsider me like that.”

  “You seem like a nice man, so I’m giving you a chance.”

  “Okay. I’ll gather all my stuff and email it to you,” he said, to buy himself some time. The last thing he wanted was to get in the middle of a marital war.

  She tossed her hair to the side. “My husband gets an in-person pitch and I don’t?”

  “Point taken.” Damian cleared his throat, hating the position a possible divorce would put him in. From the looks of it, it wouldn’t be amical. “I’m uncomfortable knowing what will happen being that your husband believed in my idea. I don’t stab people in the back.”

  “You’re not. You’re just guaranteeing your idea will go through. Trust me, when the divorce comes out, the last thing in his mind will be helping others. Unless, of course, it’s already been signed and sealed.”

  “Of course. Let me think on it,” he said. Agreeing too quickly would show how much he wanted it and give her even more leverage if what she said was true.

  She stood. “Don’t think too long.”

  “All right.”

  “I’ll see myself out.”

  When she closed the door behind her, he sighed loudly. What the hell. This was a power play for her, no doubt. The display of generosity didn’t come cheap. His mind spun. He glanced at the phone. Should he warn Bill that his ex-wife wanted to divorce him? Hmmm… dangerous move. Also, not my business.

  Telling him about it might give Damian the misleading sense of proactiveness, but his loyalty to Bill wouldn’t mean jack if she found out and hated him for it. A smart woman, Candi would find a way, a loophole to squash the investment—which still wasn’t on paper. Besides, knowing his wife would leave him would perhaps distract Bill from investing.

  Damian swiveled his chair. Maybe Brit would know what to do—confiding in her would be a perk of keeping his mind open about their relationship. He flicked the sleek intercom, dialing his assistant. He hadn’t seen her around ever since leaving surgery, and didn’t remember if she would come back to work for him or at her job at the mall. “Adriana, is Brit in the building?”

  “No, doctor, she’s not. Actually, she left a message for you.”

  “Yes?”

  “School called when you were in surgery, and she went to pick up Amanda.”

  His stomach hardened. “What do you mean?”

  “Amanda got in trouble, it seems, and she went to pick her up.”

  His daughter in trouble? His gut clenched, and stupid ideas populated in his mind. What if someone had hurt his daughter and she fought back? What if she needed him, and he was nowhere near her? Frustration filled his chest like a balloon about to burst. I’m all she has. “How come no one told me about this?”

  “You were in surgery, then when you came, Mrs. O’Donnell appeared unannounced and I haven’t had a chance. I’m sorry, Dr. Forrest.”

  7

  “Daddy will be so mad at me,” Amanda said, wiping the tears from her face.

  Brit glanced at the girl, eyes still reddened from her quiet crying session from the school to the park near Damian’s house. Brit still had her own kid to pick up from school later, but she’d deal with this small crisis now.

  “Honey, I’ll talk to him okay?” She caressed her cheek. “I’m sure he’ll understand.”

  When she got a call from school earlier that day, she thought it’d maybe be about Libby. Maybe her daughter had spiked a fever or caught lice; but she’d been wrong about the student and the reason. Mrs. Laurel, the principal, had informed her that Amanda had punched a fellow student.

  She had offered to go pick her up for the day. In other circumstances, Mrs. Laurel had said Amanda would have been suspended, but since she knew about the Violet situation, she had decided to spare the kindergartener from more trouble.

  “Why did you punch your friend?”

  “Becky has been braiding her hair, and I asked her how to do it.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Then she told me her mom did it every morning. And she asked me if I knew when my mom was coming,” Amanda said, her voice wavering. “I didn’t say anything and Cynthia, this other girl, said my mom would never come back.”

  “And that’s why you punched Cynthia?” she asked.

  Amanda glanced down, blushing. “And Becky.”

  Brit cleared her throat. Damn. “And Becky,” she repeated. Could she be mad at the girl for taking her emotions on someone? When she’d been bullied at elementary school for not having a father attend any of her events, she’d slapped the boys who had teased her. “I’m so sorry, honey,” she said, taking a lock of hair from Amanda’s face and tucking behind her ear.

  “Why are you sorry?” Amanda squared her shoulders and tilted her head.

  “Because you shouldn’t have to face this. Kids can be mean sometimes.”

  “Aunt Brit?”

  She stroked Amanda’s cheek. “Yes?”

  “Do you believe my mom will ever come back?”

  Brit’s lungs tightened. She’d give anything, especially now, for Violet to be back, healthy and good, to be the one consoling her daughter. “I think your mom will come back, my angel, but not knowing when is what’s hard. I miss her too. She’ll come back.”

  “Did your father ever come back?”

  More like a sperm donor, but she didn’t need to get into the logistics of biology with Amanda. Besides, she couldn’t miss what she’d never had. “No, but my father wasn’t a good person. Your mom is a wonderful person going through a really bad phase. She preferred to be away from you while she gets back to a good phase again, when she can be the best mother she can be.”

  “I hope so. I miss Mommy.”

  “She misses you too, honey.”

  Amanda launched herself in Brit’s arms and hugged her tight. “I love you, Aunt Brit.”

  Brit held her firmly. “And I love you, sweet Amanda. I’m not mad at you for lashing out at your friends, but from now on let’s try to find other ways to show we’re upset.”

  “I heard Daddy say god damn it before.”

  “Yeah, let’s try something else.”

  She chuckled. “Okay.”

  Brit’s phone buzz, and she fished it out of her pocket. “Why don’t you go play for a little before we go?” she said to Amanda.

  Amanda dashed to the slides, and Brit accepted the call. “Hey,” she said, recognizing his face on the ID. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you. Figured you were busy.”

  “That’s okay. Where are you?”

  “I stopped at the park at Green Trail to talk to her.”

  “What happened?”

  “Some girls asked about her mother, and she got defensive and punched them.”

  He sighed into the phone.

  “I think maybe she should talk to a child’s therapist if this escalates. Just to have a safe place to deal with her emotions. She was very attached to her mother,” she said. “Is,” she corrected herself.

  “I’m heading over there.”

  “Well, I need to pick up Libby and—”

  “What if I pick up Libby from school and Trevor from preschool and we can all have dinner together?” he suggested.

  “That sounds good.”

  “Can I have more pizza, please?” Libby asked.

  They’d gone to a neighborhood Italian bistro with a nice outdoor play area. For the past hour, a silly part of her enjoyed every moment of this misleading blended family vibe. Trevor kept playing with the dough the waitress had given him for that purpose, and Libby and Amanda took turns using a fun app on Brit’s cell phone that added special effects and makeup to their selfies.

  “Of course,” Damian said, serving her another slice. Then he lifted the Hawaiian tray and gestured at Brit’s plate. “More?”

  Brit moved her hand in refusal. “No, thanks.”

  “My mom once told me she doesn’t eat a lot on dates,” Libby said, before grabbing a drink of her Sprite. Brit made a mental note to downgrade her drink to water next time. Cl
early, the sugar had gotten to her head. How the hell could her daughter say that?

  “Honey, this isn’t—” Brit started, happy that Amanda continued playing with the phone and didn’t seem to hear anything.

  “Well, I meant when men are around,” Libby continued. “I heard you tell Aunt Lara on the phone.”

  Fuck. Brit rolled her eyes at Libby, who thank god took the clue and joined Amanda in playing with the phone. She glanced at Damian and caught him gaping at her, amusement gleaming in his eyes. “What she was trying to say was—” she started, unsure how to save face and make her cheeks less red.

  “I think you shouldn’t worry about that. You have a great figure,” he said, his tone casual, but the amusement from his eyes dissipated and, in its place, male approval.

  “Thanks.”

  He took her plate and added another piece of Hawaiian pizza, and when he returned it to her, an expression of desire washed over his face. She would have turned into a puddle right there and then, had Libby’s sound of slurping her soda had not pulled her from her thoughts.

  “Libby, manners,” she said to her daughter, inwardly grateful for the change of subject.

  “She’s fine,” Damian said, ruffling her daughter’s hair. “I like Libby because she keeps it real.”

  “Like my mom,” Libby said.

  “Yes,” Damian said, slanting another look at Brit. “Just like your mom.”

  “Are they asleep?” Brit asked when Damian closed the door behind him.

  She’d chosen to sleep on the guest room, and he hadn’t minded. It would be strange for her to sleep on the same bed he’d shared with Violet. He snatched her into his arms, catching a whiff of her delicious scent. He’d dreamed of doing this ever since he saw her at that restaurant with that man.

  Eating her out hadn’t been enough. He needed to be deep inside her, feeling his cock throb against her inner walls. The image sent a rush of blood through him. “I miss you.”