Bad Friend

by Carmen Falcone

  “You’ve seen me.”

  He reached for her dress, tugging at the side. “I still miss you.”

  Her lush eyelashes swept over her eyes. “Well you have me now.”

  He reached to her back, unzipping her dress until it pooled at her feet. Only a lacy, matching black underwear covered her. He took a step back, admitting the soft curves of her body, the rising and falling of her generous chest, then the roundness of her belly down the flare of her curvy hips. Every part of him woke.

  “You’re good enough to eat.”

  “That’s what you keep doing. Maybe it’s high time I did the same,” she said, then dropped to her knees until she was eye level with his cock. She unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down with his boxers, and quickly his dick sprung out, hard and tingly.

  She cupped his balls, and he groaned, nearly losing his balance.

  He reached for his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it on the floor.

  His gaze strayed to her one more time, and the vision of that sexy, curvaceous woman stroking his cock squeezed the air from his lungs. She took his cock in her mouth, and a shiver shot up from the base of his dick up his spine. Being inside her mouth was… wonderful. She rolled her fingers around his balls, teasing him, then began sucking him, salivating over his cock, then licking it dry.

  God, she was good at this. Not good, fucking amazing—like she was in everything she put her mind on. A moan escaped from her lips when she licked over his length. The sexy sound hinted she loved sucking his cock, and it added another notch of arousal to his already dangerously high heart rate.

  “Brit… you’re…” He hissed, words failing him. His head bobbed, and he had to cling to every shred of self-restraint not to let go inside her mouth. He thrust his hands in her hair needing that connection to keep his knees from buckling.

  She touched his ass, propping him further into her mouth. Fuck. He sucked in a breath, feeling her throat muscles work as she attempted to take most of him in her mouth. She then withdrew him from her, quickly tasting him again, and increasing the tempo.

  Another one of her sexy moans filled the air, sending him over the edge. If she didn’t stop, he’d finish in her mouth—and while the idea played smoothly in his mind like an old-fashioned record player, he’d save that for another time. Now, he wanted to drive himself inside her.

  Before it was too late, he swiftly disengaged himself from her and clasped her wrists, helping her stand upright. Growling, he bent her over the bed, so she splayed her hands on the mattress. Oh, yeah. He pressed his palm on her back, bringing her to the perfect position.

  He nudged her thighs apart, then slid his fingers into her pussy, feeling her slick heat. “Brit, you’re so tight,” he said, feeling her inner muscles cling to his digits. Lust stirred in his stomach, fast tracking through his entire being. She lit a candle inside him, and the more he blew, the stronger the wick became. She undulated her hips, teasing him, and he brought the tip of his cock to her entrance.

  “Damian, please, come inside me,” she said, her voice throaty.

  He removed his fingers and thrust his cock into her, in a deep plunge that had them both breathing heavily. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, and he placed his hands at the sides of her waist. Being inside her… was coming home, if home was a person. Damn, she’d become his person.

  She relaxed her shoulders, the silent warning he needed to go on, and he retreated his dick only to return again, this time deeper. She moaned, a sexy, pained, raspy sound.

  He continued the menacing rhythm, each time thrusting to the hilt, his balls heavy and full, slamming against her flesh. She rocked her hips against him, adding some of her own pace, driving him even wilder for her. At last, she let out a string of moans, her back quivering, and her limbs trembling.

  After she came, he allowed himself to let go, driving into her, and emptying his seed inside her. His suppressed a loud groan, a part of him still clinging to reality, even though it was so easy to forget.

  8

  Brit looked up at the ceiling. “You’re quite the lover, Dr. Forrest.”

  Lying next to her, with sheets covering him from the waist down, he glanced at her. How many times had they had sex? Probably three. She should fall asleep, but each time he took her, more excitement brewed inside her, taking her to a high that only eased after they started kissing again. Was this normal? She’d had good sex before him, but with him it was better than good. Splendid. Breathtaking. Deliciously naughty.

  “I’m just trying to keep up,” he said, winking at her.

  She flushed. Leave it to him to make her feel like some insatiable nymph. Sighing, she stretched her legs like a lazy cat after a nap. “I should go home. I don’t want the kids to see me when they wake up and get the wrong impression,” she said. The idea of waking up next to him did crazy tingly things to her insides, but she had to be fair. Hurting his kids was not part of the plan, and if she ever slept over and they saw her in the morning, they had to be ready. Damn, he had to be ready.

  He touched her elbow, the slightest brush that had the power of reducing her to a silly, hopeful teenager. “Don’t go yet.”

  Don’t go yet, she repeated inwardly, as if those words unlocked a part of her that had been slamming the door to get out. When he’d agreed to keep his mind open about their relationship, she’d been glad, but this—the undertone of need in his voice, the way he clasped her wrist, and she felt his fingers tremble against her skin—made her heart sing.

  She sat on the bed, and he disengaged from her wrist, but followed suit, sitting next to her. “Okay. Maybe a little while longer. But I can’t do anything, otherwise I won’t be able to walk or sit tomorrow.” Or drive. Libby had asked to sleep at grandma’s, a request she’d been pleased to fulfill to have the night free for Damian. Most of the night, anyway.

  “Lucky you, you know a doctor who makes house calls.”

  “Lucky me.”

  The expression on his face shifted, and he touched his beard. “Hey. Before I forget… I wanted your opinion on something.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Candi O’Donnell visited my office today.”

  Moisture evaporated from her throat, and she brought her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. What if Bill had been right about his suspicions and his wife, in fact, was interested in Damian? She chewed her lip. A strand of jealousy bolted through her, heating her veins. Don’t be ridiculous, Brit. He wouldn’t be sharing this bed with her unless he wanted nothing to do with Candi. “And?”

  “She told me she might divorce him and wants to see the plans for the investment to see if she’ll agree to it.”

  His words rang in her ears. No wonder Bill had asked her to keep an eye on Damian. The shrewd old man probably wanted her help to gather evidence leading up to his divorce. Her heart skipped a beat. And when she’d refused, he’d come up with that crazy idea to have her work alongside Damian in the project. One way or another, he wanted to twist Brit’s arm to get a set of eyes on Damian. “What? How is her divorce related to the investment he’s making?”

  “She wanted to give me the heads up. He hasn’t signed the investment contract yet, and if he doesn’t, he will probably have other priorities if they get divorced suddenly.”

  Holy shit. She let her arms fall to her sides. She’d seen the happiness in Damian’s eyes when he’d moved the needle one notch closer to securing the deal. Taking it away from him would crush him—he’d lost his wife, had to adapt to a completely new routine with his kids, then this. She even considered joining the team like Bill had wanted, if that meant securing the investment. Bill. Details of the conversation she had shared with Bill at his party popped in her mind, and she gasped.

  “What?”

  She rubbed her forehead. Shit. Go on and say it. “Maybe they are having problems. He asked me to keep an eye on you and tell him if you get involved with his wife.”

  “What?” He turned his face to her.

/>   “I know, it’s so silly. He even offered me money.”

  “When was this?”

  “During the party at their place.”

  He angled his head, studying her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was embarrassed he even asked me to spy on you. I said no, so I didn’t think it’d be a big deal anyway. I’d never betray your trust like that.” Besides, what good would it do? Perhaps Bill had drank one scotch too many and made the silly proposal. “Also, then you kissed me and well, I had other priorities on my mind.”

  He scratched his chin. “He can’t think I’m involved with his wife.”

  She reached for his hand. “You’re not.”

  “Yes, but he must suspect it, otherwise wouldn’t have made this offer to you.”

  She squeezed his hand. Any man in his right mind should be worried if his wife seemed too friendly with Damian—especially if he were less attractive and two decades older than his wife. “Yeah. I guess. That’s probably why he wanted me to work with you guys in the project, too. Maybe he hoped he could change my mind in helping him spy on you. Who knows?”

  He flipped over her hand and made an invisible pattern on her palm, as if he read her fortune with his fingers. The touch seared her palm, and she had to will the brewing desire away to keep from giving in once again. “Hmmm… I need to get him to sign those papers before she files for divorce.”

  “Yes. And show him that you’re definitely not interested in his wife.”

  “I’m not. And neither would she be in me, if she saw my daily life.”

  “That’s it. She has to see your daily life. And the kids.” An idea almost made her jump out of the bed, and she squealed. Hadn’t Damian mentioned that Bill inquired about sailing and his boat? “We’re going sailing.”

  Sailing. Damian looked at the marina in Dafield, a small beachy town where he kept his sailboat. Hadn’t been a bad idea after all. A day at the sea would give him enough time to secure the deal, and prove to Bill he was trustworthy and to Candi he was including her in whatever activity he took her husband on. A neutral offering to both. Best thing, his kids would do the heavy lifting.

  He watched Amanda fix Brit’s hair while Libby read a book to little Trevor. The image brought a jolt of happiness to him. Could they be happy, the five of them? Would Amanda accept Brit as his girlfriend? She loved her now, when Aunt Brit didn’t represent any threat or didn’t at any moment to take Violet’s place. Perhaps once Brit had a title, that would change.

  You overthink everything. And if they don’t fall on your idea of perfection, you get irritated. Violet’s words echoed in his ears. When he’d married her, he thought a lovely, demure woman coming from a traditional family from the East Coast would be the perfect partner in life and raising a family. Had he been too demanding? Had his idea of perfection, like she’d said, helped drive her away? He’d only wanted to be a good man, unlike his father.

  “Daddy, what do you think?” Amanda asked, pointing at the short braids she’d made on either side of Brit’s hair.

  “Good job,” he said.

  “Brit taught me how to braid.”

  “She has all kinds of talents.”

  Amanda chuckled. “She does.”

  He looked away, avoiding staring in Brit’s gaze and get lost. Today, he’d need to focus. A daytrip to a nearby small island would guarantee he spend the day with Bill to solidify their rapport, and Brit’s presence would put an end to any ideas he or Candi might entertain.

  “They’re coming,” Libby said.

  He turned in the direction of the entrance of the boat and spotted Bill and Candi strolling side by side down the deck. He had on shorts and a polo shirt, and she, a long cover-up dress hinting at a bikini underneath. “Ahoy,” Bill said. “She’s a beauty.”

  “Thank you. So glad you both could make it,” he said, stretching his hand to help them aboard.

  “It’s nice to be here.” Candi flashed him a smile.

  When he’d send out the email inviting them, he hadn’t heard back from her. Maybe she’d looked at it as a way for him to extend an olive branch and show her that from now on he’d build rapport with both of them. He’d hate for her to feel excluded and avenge him by messing up his deal.

  “Well, you already know Brit,” he said, gesturing at her. “She’s joined us with her daughter Libby, and those two rascals are mine: Amanda and Trevor.”

  “Hi, Brit,” Bill said, shaking her hand. “Seems like we’ll have a full crew today, huh?” He glanced at the children.

  “What a cute trio,” Candi said. “I wasn’t expecting to meet these little sailors. What a treat.”

  “Hope it’s okay,” Damian said. “Such a beautiful day today.”

  “Oh, it’s quite all right,” Bill said, waving him off. “My own children are grown, and I have no grandkids yet so it’s nice to spend time with other people’s children.”

  Candi’s energy shifted, and she crossed her arms over her chest. Damian couldn’t detect why she seemed upset, but she stepped a few feet away from them, inspecting the buffet of pastries and fruits Brit had put out for them. Something about the way she walked but didn’t really focus on anything made Damian wonder if she was frustrated. But why? She’d just arrived.

  “What would you like to drink? Champagne, beer? Or I can whip up a cocktail?” Brit asked, looking at a Bill.

  “A beer will do.”

  “Perfect. Easy man. I like that.” She turned in Candi’s direction. “What would you like?”

  Candi touched the pendant in her necklace, fiddling with it. “Water for now. I’ll have champagne later.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Brit said, heading to the small built-in refrigerator.

  He watched Brit move around his boat with ease, and he’d asked himself how many times he’d taken it out in the past few years. Violet never enjoyed the water much, and with his work and the kids, he’d ended up paying for the fees and maintenance as a pathetic reminder his boat would be there. Not because he was so passionate about sailing, but it represented a part of him he’d one day reclaim. Why did he even need a hope? Had his marriage been so bad, or gotten so steadily mediocre, that he needed to promise himself a way out?

  All those times I blamed her for leaving… but what if I checked out too, perhaps earlier, and lied to myself and to her? His gaze strayed to Brit again, and the warm feeling he’d become addicted to whenever he thought of her washed over him. Something deep inside told him with Brit, he wouldn’t have to pretend, ever. He wouldn’t need a boat, or another car, or a vacation home. She’d be all he needed, which filled him with hope and apprehension. Was he ready to give himself fully to another woman again? Or perhaps, truly, for the first time in his life?

  9

  Brit sucked in a breath. She’d chosen a fifties pin-up style one-piece red and white polka dot swimsuit. When she’d first seen herself, she’d settled for cute. But now, at the sight of a two-piece string bikini and cellulite-free Candi, Brit wished she had swam with the cover-up on herself.

  Damn. Slim and fit, Candi had the type of biceps that would make an average personal trainer’s seem flabby. Brit hoped the tan would at least hide the stretch marks on her back, a nice memento she inherited from her pregnancy. She sighed, then looked at Damian’s imposing form.

  He had the good sense to keep a rash guard shirt on, but the white fabric clung to his wet skin, and that along with the dark blue swim trunks showcased the delicious and muscly body that could have been sculpted by a Renaissance artist. A hot wave spread across her cheeks, because she’d seen what he looked like naked. Seen and felt him inside her. She quivered. Down girl.

  She took the glass of champagne to her lips, enjoying a niece moment of relaxation. They’d sailed smoothly until Damian had found a nice place to drop the anchor, near an area with a couple of coves. Not too close to shore. Damian mentioned the small island not too far from them belonged to a patient of his. With calm waters and a nice breeze, the day
was picture perfect.

  Trevor slept in the portable crib inside, in the covered area and if he woke up, the camera would alert Damian’s phone. Amanda had just gotten out of the water and played with her dolls, brushing their hair. If that little girl didn’t grow up to be a fierce hairstylist or work in fashion, Brit would change her name.

  When she looked for Libby, she found her sitting near the ladder, glancing at her feet. She walked up to her daughter, knowing it always took her longer to get acquainted in the water than the other kids. Once, a couple years earlier, she jumped in a public pool without her floaties, and thank goodness, nothing had happened but the quick event had been enough to instill fear in her little one.

  Before she made it to her side, she heard Damian’s footsteps as he climbed up the ladder and sat next to her.

  “Hey Libby. Let’s go swim.”

  Libby shrugged. “I suck at it.”

  “Libby, language,” Brit said, making herself a mental note not to use inappropriate words in front of her daughter. One of these days, she’d use them at school and get in trouble.

  Damian flashed her a mischievous grin. “It sucks when you’re not good at it,” he said to Libby. “But it doesn’t have to.”

  “What do you mean?” Libby asked.

  He stretched out his hand. “Come with me. I’ll show you a couple tricks I’ve learned.”

  Libby glanced at his hand, then her gaze darted to Brit. The unsureness in her eyes squeezed Brit’s heart. Her daughter didn’t like to show vulnerability and, not having a father or grandfather in her life, wasn’t used to accepting help from male figures.

  “Try it, honey,” she said to her daughter.

  “Okay.” Libby took his hand in hers and stood, and followed him down the metal ladder.

  “You can do it, Libby,” Amanda shouted from the background.

  Brit fought the urge to dip into the water and stood against the railing, watching Damian patiently teach her daughter to swim. It’s not that she didn’t know how; she needed to build her confidence again to do it on her own. Damian made her touch the boat then swim back to him, and at first she hesitated, then kicked her legs.