by Noelle Adams
He hadn’t slept very well. He’d texted Carol twice and hadn’t received an answer, so he stayed awake brooding about it most of the night.
He needed to talk to her. And he needed to do it now—as soon as possible—or he’d never be able to think about anything else.
He would have walked over right at seven when they opened, but he knew Carol was busy baking for the first few hours every morning, and he didn’t want to try to talk to her when she was busy.
He wanted her full attention, and he didn’t want her to have an excuse not to see him.
As soon as he walked in the front door, he sensed something was different, although he couldn’t immediately tell what it was. The air smelled like coffee and spices as it normally did, and a normal number of customers were sitting around at the tables for a weekend morning.
He walked to the counter. As he reached it, Ginny came out of the back room. She smiled when she saw him. “Hey, Patrick. You’re here early.”
“Yeah. Is Carol back there?”
She shook her head. “You must have done a number on her on your shopping trip yesterday.”
Patrick blinked. “What do you mean?”
Ginny didn’t look angry or accusatory. She looked a little confused by his reaction, but she answered easily enough. “She has a bad headache this morning, so she didn’t come in. Rachel’s covering the baking—at least the bare minimum.”
Patrick knew immediately that Carol didn’t have a headache. Or if she did, it was probably because she was still upset.
She hadn’t come in today.
She’d stayed at home instead.
She was likely trying to avoid him.
Ginny added, “I think she wanted to take some pills and make sure she was feeling better for tonight.”
“Tonight?”
With a frown, Ginny replied, “Her date tonight? You know? That’s what the outfit you were shopping for yesterday is for.”
“Oh. Right.”
Damn it all to hell.
Carol was upset with him. And she was going out with some other guy this evening.
In the sexy clothes she’d bought yesterday.
Patrick hated the idea of it. He hated it so much he gritted his teeth.
“Is something wrong?” Ginny asked. She looked completely innocent, which convinced Patrick that Carol had told her nothing about what had happened last night. “If you need to talk to Carol, just give her a call. But maybe wait a few hours so her headache can go away.”
“Okay. I will.”
“You want some coffee?”
Patrick was torn.
He didn’t want to sit down, drink coffee, and work on his laptop until the others strolled in, which was what he normally did on Sunday mornings. He wanted to go see Carol right now. He wanted to make sure she was okay. He wanted her to talk to him.
But he could hardly barge over there so early if she really had a headache. It would look insensitive—at the very least.
Plus if he walked out now, Ginny would realize something was up. She’d suspect that talking to Carol was important enough for him to change his habits.
If Ginny wanted to know something, nothing in the world could hold her back. She’d find out. Then everyone would find out.
He would have done exactly what he’d grumbled at Noah and Ryan for doing—risking their circle of friends because they couldn’t control themselves.
Patrick could control himself. He wasn’t going to put his friendships in jeopardy because he’d been momentarily stupid.
“Yeah, I’ll have some. Thanks.” He gave Ginny a casual smile.
He would talk to Carol in a few hours. He was strong enough to wait that long.
***
He made it until eleven, pretending to work on his laptop and mostly tuning out the conversation as the others joined him.
They teased him about his shopping trip, which he dutifully ignored. They asked him why he was in such a bad mood this morning, to which he replied with just a grumble.
Patrick was often distracted with work, so the others didn’t seem to recognize that something else was holding his attention this morning.
When he’d finally made it to eleven, he closed his laptop and slid it into his bag.
“You taking off?” Ryan asked. He was leaning back in a chair that was far too small for his big frame, and he was holding Ginny’s hand, fiddling with her engagement ring.
“Yeah.” Patrick stood up, conscious that everyone was staring at him curiously. “I’ve got some stuff to do.”
“Like what?” Emma asked.
Reassuring himself that they had absolutely no idea what had happened between him and Carol yesterday, he muttered, “Just stuff. I’ll see you all later.”
They said goodbye to him and watched as he left the shop. He felt self-conscious at their stares and was relieved when the door closed behind him.
He headed back to his apartment building and went around to the back where he parked his car. Then he drove over to Carol’s.
He was ridiculously nervous as he walked up the sidewalk and then took the stairs to her unit. She wasn’t going to want to see him, to talk to him, to make things right between them.
She hadn’t even come into work this morning.
She must be really upset.
He couldn’t stand the thought of it, and that concern propelled him to knock on the door.
When there wasn’t an answer after a minute, he knocked again, louder this time.
He listened carefully and finally heard movement from inside the apartment. She must be looking out the peephole at him.
“Damn it, Patrick!” Her voice was muffled by the closed door.
“Please let me in.”
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
It wasn’t at all like Carol to avoid people or shut them down. She was always so generous and empathetic. She must be really upset. “You have to talk to me eventually.”
“Why?”
“Because your brother is one of my best friends, and I thought we were friends as well.”
“I thought we were.” Her voice broke slightly.
“So let me in so we can fix this!” He’d been trying to hold on to his patience, but a burst of frustration was audible in the last words.
“I’m not going to let you in if you’re going to yell at me. I have a headache.”
“Damn it! I’m not going to yell at you!”
“You’re yelling right now.”
He took three deep breaths in a row. “I’m not yelling now,” he finally said in a more controlled voice.
The door opened a crack, and she peeked out at him.
“Please, Carol,” he said hoarsely, hating that she was so hesitant with him, that he’d made her so. “I know I was an ass, but we need to fix this.”
She opened the door all the way, looking at him soberly. Her face was too pale, and her hair was a tousled mess. She wore an oversized sweatshirt, black leggings, and thick purple socks.
She looked tired and messy and beautiful and hurt. “What do you want?” she demanded.
He had absolutely no idea what to say, and he was still standing outside since she was blocking the entrance. “Can I come in?”
She stepped aside, letting him enter, and he went over to the sofa to sit down.
She sat in a chair across from it, crossing her arms over her stomach.
He waited to see what she would say, but she didn’t say anything. She stared at him silently, obviously waiting for him to start.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m really sorry.”
“You’ve already said that.”
“Well, I’m going to say it again because you’re obviously still upset.”
“Yes, I’m upset.” Her eyes were big and looked silver in the dim lighting. “Do you even know why?”
He’d been thinking about why since he’d been kicked out yesterday evening. “I… I think so.”
“Then tell me.�
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He started with the easy part. “You’re upset because I said you were practicing dating on me.”
Her lashes lowered slightly, narrowing her eyes. “That’s really your answer?”
He let out a rough sigh. “I shouldn’t have said that. It was… it was really stupid.”
“If that’s what you really thought, then it was fine for you to say it.” Her words were clipped, reined in. The tone and her tense posture weren’t anything like her typical, genuine self.
“I don’t even know if I really thought it or not.”
“You did think it. You did mean it. You thought it was utterly impossible that I was acting that way for real—with you.” She wasn’t even looking at him now. She was staring at a spot just over his right shoulder.
He wanted her to really see him. He wanted her to meet his gaze. He tilted his head in an attempt to catch her eye.
She narrowed her eyes even more and gave him a cool glare. “You might as well just admit it. I know exactly what happened.”
He groaned softly. “All right. Fine. I couldn’t believe you’d be acting like… like that.”
“Like what?”
She was making this as hard as possible for him, and he couldn’t even blame her. “Like you… liked me.” It sounded ridiculous, immature, but he couldn’t think of any other way to put it.
“And you really can’t believe that I do?”
He wanted to be anywhere but here, put on the spot like this. He wanted to get up and leave, somehow escape everything he was feeling.
But if he did, that would be it. He’d never have Carol in his life again. He might have messed this up completely, but he wasn’t prepared to lose her for good. So he told her the truth. “No. I really can’t.”
“Why the hell not?”
Carol almost never used to rough language—even something as mild as “hell.” It seemed to emphasize how upset she really was.
“I… I don’t even know.”
She stared at him for a full minute. He could see her chest rise and fall with her heavy breathing. Then she finally got up, muttering, “You’re a real idiot sometimes. You know that, right?” She went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.
He hauled himself to his feet and followed her. “I know I’m an idiot. I know that. But I’m still here, trying to fix things.”
She was staring into her open refrigerator like she’d forgotten what she’d come here for.
“Carol,” he said, touching her shoulder gently. She looked so hurt and wounded. He couldn’t believe he was important enough to her to make her feel this way.
She whirled around to face him. “Why shouldn’t I like you?” she demanded.
He blinked. “Because… because it seems pretty obvious that it’s just because the others have gotten together.”
“What does that even mean?”
“I mean Emma and Noah got together, and then Ginny and Ryan got together. So now we’re the only two left. I get it. I do. It would make sense for us to get paired up in the same way. But that doesn’t mean it’s… it’s real.”
She made a loud, throaty sound of naked frustration.
Patrick contorted his face as he was washed with self-consciousness and confusion. “I’m trying to be honest here.”
“I know you are. I know you are!”
She closed the refrigerator, having taken nothing out. “Why wouldn’t we be good together?”
“We’re totally different. If I wasn’t the last guy left in our little group, you’d choose someone totally different.” He knew that much for sure. He’d been rehearsing it over and over again—for months now—reminding himself that any soft looks she’d given him had been based on something other than real attraction.
“How do you know that?”
“Carol, please. I know I act stupid sometimes, but I do have a functioning mind. And neither one of us deserves to be stuck with… whoever happens to be left.”
She gaped at him. Literally gaped. Then her cheeks paled even more. “You think I’m… just whoever happens to be left.”
“Not you,” he gasped, shocked that she’d ever even imagine he felt that way. “Not you. Me. I’m whoever is left.”
“You… you… you…” She was panting, couldn’t even get the words out.
“Me what?”
“You idiot!”
He was processing her uncontrolled outburst, and so he wasn’t prepared for what she did next.
What she did was launch herself at him, grabbing his head and pulling it down into a kiss.
Since he wasn’t prepared, he couldn’t control his response. And he’d been wanting her too much, for too long, and not letting himself act on that desire.
So he didn’t stop it, even though he knew he should.
He didn’t push her away gently and explain that it couldn’t happen.
He kissed her back.
The feel of her lips on his, her soft body against his, combined with all the emotion he’d been trying to hold back since last night. His hands came up of their own accord, cupping around the back of her head so he could hold her still and press against her mouth even harder.
She was rubbing herself against the length of his body, like she couldn’t hold herself back, as he slipped his tongue into her mouth.
Everything about her was soft and warm and full and utterly sweet. He wanted to feel her more—so much more, so he pushed her backward against the counter. Her thick sweatshirt was a frustrating barrier, so he grabbed the hem and tugged it up over her head and arms. She had a thin tank top on beneath it. She wasn’t wearing a bra.
He stared down at her chest, the sweatshirt still in his hands, his whole body rocked by the sight of her large, rounded breasts, unrestrained beneath the thin fabric. Her nipples were tight, poking out deliciously. Her breasts bounced slightly as she tugged the sweatshirt from his grip and tossed it on the floor.
He groaned helplessly at the sight, an erection rock hard in his pants.
Then he took her head in his hands again and pulled her into another kiss. She kissed him back, clawing at his clothes and wrapping one leg around him so she could grind against him.
It felt so good—her soft, eager body, her complete lack of restraint—that arousal throbbed so intensely he was briefly afraid he might come.
He hadn’t had nearly enough of her yet. He pulled away from the kiss so he could yank off her tank top.
He wanted to see her breasts. He wanted to touch them. He wanted her to be completely naked.
As he pulled the top off over her head, her breasts jiggled deliciously. He groaned again and took them both in his hands.
She arched her back with a pretty moan, pressing herself into his palms.
He tried to say something—tell her how much he wanted her, tell her nothing in the world had ever felt as good as she did. But he couldn’t make his throat work. Instead, he tugged down her leggings and underwear, pulling them off over her feet.
She was completely naked then, and his whole body was pulsing with desire. She was fumbling with the button on his jeans, and he exhaled with relief when she was able to push them down and finally free his erection.
She rubbed and squeezed him until he was choking on the pleasure, bracing himself on the counter behind her.
When his vision briefly whited out, he pulled her hands away. He was about to take her right there—right then—when the slightest sliver of practicality pierced his heated mind. “Condom,” he gasped.
“I’ve got some,” she said breathlessly, pushing him back so she could get out of the prison of his arms. “Hold on.”
He was glad she was the one moving since he was so aroused he was incapable of taking even a step at the moment.
She was back in just a moment, carrying a foil packet. He grabbed it, tore it open with his teeth, and then rolled the condom on. Then he moved her back to position against the counter. He was only a few inches taller than her, so the height wasn’t right. So
he swung her around and backed her up against the kitchen table, which was lower.
This worked perfectly. He propped her up on the edge, and she opened her thighs for him. Then he was edging himself inside her, surrounded by her sweet, wet heat. She was tight. Tight and absolutely perfect.
She moaned loudly as he moved inside her, wrapping her legs around him.
He couldn’t be careful. He couldn’t go slow. And she didn’t seem to want him to. He rocked his hips fast and hard, leaning over to brace himself on the table for more leverage.
“Patrick,” she gasped, trying to move with him, although her motion was limited by her position.
He loved how she said his name—like it was almost a prayer. He let himself go, taking her exactly as he wanted, as he’d wanted for longer than he could even admit to himself.
“Patrick,” she said again, her fingernails clawing at his back under the shirt he still wore.
Her body was shaking, the soft flesh of her breasts and thighs jiggling against him in a way that was nakedly erotic. Her muscles were starting to tighten, her nails gouging his back more deeply.
“Patrick!” Her voice was loud now, hoarse, right in his ear. “I’m… I’m… almost… there… Patrick!”
On the last word, her body seemed to shatter as she came with a ragged sob.
He kept thrusting against the clenching of her body, almost blinded by his need, his emotions, his bone-deep hunger for her.
She was gasping out his name, over and over again, as he finally fell over the edge himself. He let out a roar—no way he could hold it back—as the pleasure slammed into him in wave after wave.
He was still clinging to her when he finally started to come down. His breathing was loud and hoarse. Her body was the sweetest thing he’d ever held.
But she was Carol.
And one thing he knew for sure.
He wasn’t allowed to take her like this.
He just wasn’t strong enough to resist.
Five
Carol was overwhelmed with emotion and sensation—so many good feels swirling together in her mind and body, making her excited and relaxed at exactly the same time.
She’d just had sex with Patrick.
