“Can’t we be friends and still hook-up?”
“Friends with benefits, you mean?”
“No strings attached.” Lauren nodded, though she couldn’t bear to think of anyone else touching Kyle. She slid her hand along his strong, broad shoulders, brushing her fingers through the short hairs at the base of his neck. She stood on her tip-toes and captured that tempting mouth, tracing his lower lip with her tongue, wringing a groan from him as he kissed her back, wild and wicked, setting her heart to pounding and blood thrumming through her veins.
He pulled her close, fisting a hand in her hair and trailing his lips down her neck, making her shiver as desire unfurled, hot and bright. He found a spot near her ear that sent thrills through her and she gasped, arching into him, gratified to feel his hardness against her belly.
She fumbled at the buttons on his shirt, needing to feel all that warm, satiny skin under her fingertips. She pushed his dress shirt off his shoulders, sliding her hands down his sides and around under the waistband of his dark jeans, pulling him against her before claiming his mouth again. They tumbled to the bed, his long, lean length heavy on top of her, both of them trying to touch each other everywhere at once. He pushed onto his elbows and stood.
“Last time, I didn’t even get my boots and jeans off. Give me a minute, here, beautiful.” He toed off his boots and opened his jeans as she reached for the hem of her velvet shirt. He stopped her by covering her hands with his own large, warm ones. “Let me. I want to undress you.”
She nodded, unable to catch her breath. His thumbs hooked into his waistband and she watched, eager to see him in the light of the studio, instead of a darkened party room. When he pushed his jeans down his hips, he unveiled a web of angry pink and white scars on his hip, like a starburst—evidence of the injuries he’d suffered and the months of therapy he’d endured to walk again. She sat up, tracing the scars. She mapped the ridges with her fingertips as he watched.
“It’s not pretty,” he said, his breathing rapid and tension in the line of his body.
“You’re beautiful, Kyle,” she whispered, looking up into his brilliant green eyes. “And so brave.”
With that she leaned forward, brushing kisses over his hip and tracing the scars with her tongue. He whimpered, his hand falling to twine into her hair. She palmed his firm ass as she kissed her way across his taut stomach, nipping kisses that wrung a low moan out of him. She ran the flat of her tongue up the underside of his cock, slow and hot, wrapping her hand around his length. He groaned when she tasted him, learning the contours of him, the way he most liked to be touched. She opened her eyes, looking up into his face, loving the sweet-salty taste of him. He cupped her cheek and pulled gently away.
“I want to undress you, beautiful.” He slipped his palms under her shirt, skimming over her ribs as he pulled the shirt over her head, to reveal her lacy black bra. He knelt next to the bed, brushing kisses over the tops of her breasts before tugging one side of the bra down to capture her nipple. Lauren cradled his head against her as he sucked and teased her, before doing the same on the other side.
Somehow, without her noticing, his clever, nimble fingers undid the clasp at the back of her bra, sliding it down her arms and tossing it aside. She reached for the buttons on her jeans but he gently pushed her hands away, cupping her sex through the denim and pressing lightly with the heel of his big palm. Instinctively, she arched up, needing more.
Kyle tugged her jeans off, leaving only her lacy black panties behind. He brushed his fingertips over the soaked fabric before bending his head to lave at her through the panties. Her thighs fell wide as he teased her, stoking her arousal to a fever pitch. He shoved the fabric aside before slipping first one finger and then another inside her, crooking them just right while his clever thumb rubbed slow circles around her favorite spot.
“Please…” Lauren begged him. “I need…please…”
“Is this what you want, honey?” Kyle leaned forward, his tongue tracing her, in time to his talented fingers inside her, thrusting in and out, hitting her just right each time. She fisted her hands in the sheets, rocking her hips, desperate for the release building, spiraling through her. Her thighs shook and trembled, braced open by his shoulders as he bent to his task, teasing her, bringing her just to the edge of bliss before leaning back.
He grabbed his jeans and produced a square foil packet. He covered himself and crawled onto the bed. She wrapped her legs around his hips, struggling to align him with her, desperate to feel him inside her once again. Finally, he slipped inside, just a few inches. Their eyes met, locked and held as he thrust deep, filling her.
She rocked up to meet him, their bodies slapping together as they chased their release, clutching his biceps as he bore his weight on his arms. He leaned down, kissing her with the taste of her still upon his lips, sliding his hands down her sweat-slicked sides, to cup her bottom as he pounded into her. Her release gathered under her skin, burning from the inside out as she flew over the edge, clamping down on him, his name on her lips as she came.
“You’re so beautiful, Lauren.” His green eyes turned brilliant as she shuddered and shook under him. He slid his hand between them, as the waves of her release subsided, teasing her with just the pads of his fingers, a light, gentle pressure. “Do that again.”
“I can’t…” Lauren shook her head, still rocking her hips as he thrust into her, slowly and gently. He built her arousal again, using the knowledge he’d gained of her favorite spots—behind her earlobe, the undersides of her breasts, and that sweet, slick slide together, his nimble fingers never stopping their torment. Within minutes, incredibly, arousal burned through her again, her body demanding a second release.
She clutched at his lower back, pulling him deeper with each thrust, her legs wrapped high around his waist. She was so close, nearly there, and then her second climax hit her, stronger and more intense than the first. Lauren clawed at his shoulders and back as she shuddered, gasped, and bucked beneath him. He groaned, burrowing deep and jerking his hips he emptied himself. He shifted aside, pulling her boneless body into his arms, weak from the waves of her intense release. She snuggled against his side, dropping her head to his shoulder, feeling blissful. He tucked the blanket around them, cocooning them together from the cool night air.
At midnight, the bells from the nearby church woke her. She lay facing Kyle, secure in his arms, their legs entwined on the tiny daybed, warm and cozy under the blankets. He looked younger in sleep, as most people did. His long lashes lay along his high cheekbones and his hand possessively rested on her hip. She cupped his cheek and he opened his amazing eyes, smiling when he heard the sound of the bells echoing through the room.
“Merry Christmas, Kyle.” Lauren kissed him sweetly, a chaste, gentle brush.
“Merry Christmas, Lauren.” Kyle pulled her closer.
She rolled him onto his back, straddling him, in the tiny bed. And it was a long time before either of them got back to sleep that Christmas morning.
Chapter Nine
A loud thump woke Lauren on Christmas morning. She opened her eyes to the muted gray light of a winter dawn, blinking up at the exposed rafters in consternation. Why was she asleep in her studio? She turned her head to see an indignant Kyle, glaring at her from the floor, his eyes very green in the early morning light.
“You pushed me out of bed.” Kyle complained.
“Sorry.” Lauren raised the warm blankets for him to crawl in, the cool air from the attic rushing over her skin, raising gooseflesh. She scooted aside, still sleepy and sated from their lovemaking. “I’ve never slept in the same bed as someone before.”
“Never?” Kyle stood, all his glorious, tanned skin on display. Even sated as she was, Lauren felt the slightest bit perkier at that morning view.
“Not since I was a kid.” Lauren patted the bed. “Come on back to bed, handsome. I’ll make it up to you.”
Kyle smiled at her, putting one knee on the bed before he glanced a
t the window. “Oh, look! It snowed! A white Christmas. Come see.”
He dashed to the window, unabashed by his nudity, and rubbed condensation from the pane, peeking out at the neighborhood. Lauren wrapped the blankets around her, though more for warmth in the drafty attic than out of any modesty, and pried herself out of the bed to shuffle to the window. Outside, dusting of snow covered the neighborhood like confectioners sugar on a cake, masking the dreary sepia of early winter. Fat, fluffy flakes fell still, blanketing the world in stillness, silence, and light, in the magic of a Christmas snow.
“Pretty.” Lauren was transfixed by the childlike wonder and joy on Kyle’s face, a wide, beaming smile on his lush mouth. “I’ve never seen a Christmas snow before.”
“Me, neither. Want to go on a photo walk with me?”
“What’s a photo walk?”
“Pretty much what it sounds like. Just walking around snapping shots. It’s my favorite way to relax.” Kyle put an arm around her, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “Maybe we could go downtown. I bet Boston will be pretty in the snow.”
“Okay. But it’s not a date.”
“Definitely just a walk,” Kyle agreed.
“But coffee first. Maybe even breakfast.”
“Worked up an appetite, did you?” Kyle pulled her into his arms, cuddling her against his broad chest. “Well, I can cook exactly two things. Got eggs? Got bread? I can make French toast or scrambled eggs. Which would you rather?”
Lauren nodded. “Both. And coffee.”
“Not a morning person, huh?”
“Someone kept me up all night.” Heat crawled up Lauren’s face as she remembered loving him at midnight and again just as the sky lightened. She couldn’t be blushing, could she? Not her, not the girl of a thousand conquests. She snuggled close to Kyle and turned her burning face into his shoulder to hide.
“Someone kept me up all night, too.” Kyle whispered near her ear. “In more ways than one.”
“Oh, you’re a cheese ball!” Lauren laughed, shaking her head. He laughed, too, a deep, rumbling sound that she felt all through her, entwined with him as she was.
“Come on, beautiful, light’s wasting.” He twined their fingers together and tugged her toward the stairs. “How about I make French toast while you shower?”
“How about we shower together, instead?” Lauren grinned but ruined the effect as her stomach growled loudly.
“Think I better feed you first, you insatiable little thing.” Kyle pressed a brief kiss to her mouth. “Just let me get my jeans on…”
“I don’t know. You cooking naked would be a pretty Christmas picture.”
Kyle blushed adorably but pulled on his jeans. They headed down the stairs to her apartment and he nudged her toward the shower. By the time she emerged, wrapped in her fluffy yellow bathrobe that Erin called the duckling, Kyle produced a pile of only slightly burnt French toast and a steaming mug of rich coffee. She sat on the sofa as he brought the breakfast to her.
“I can’t remember the last time anyone cooked breakfast for me, other than Maybelline and Ralph,” Lauren said. “Thanks, Kyle.”
They ate in shifts as Kyle showered and Lauren dressed. She cleaned the kitchen while he dashed home to pick up his camera equipment. In just over an hour, they headed south into the city. This early on Christmas morning, traffic was nearly non-existent. They parked and headed toward the city’s neighboring parks, Boston Common and the Public Garden. In the spring and summer, the lush parks were always crowded with visitors, tourists, and families, enjoying the swan boats or the famous ducklings. But this early on Christmas morning, Boston seemed deserted, a Christmas ghost town, the sounds of the city muted by the snowfall and the holiday.
The trees shivered in the icy wind, their clacking bare branches a percussive beat underlying their footsteps through their own private winter wonderland. The sun peeked through the oyster and pearl clouds, picking out opaline glints in the snow, highlighting sparkling jewels of garnet, topaz, and peridot. He took her hand as they walked, his gloved fingers wrapped around her thick green mitten.
They entered the public garden and Kyle snapped shots, focusing on the small details—the heavy snow glittering on a tree branch or a bright red cardinal hopping along the snow in search for food. Lauren rummaged through the knapsack she carried and crumbled a cracker, tossing the crumbs to the tiny bird. He chirped his thanks to her before pecking at the crumbs. Kyle snapped the cardinal’s portrait until he flew away to enjoy his treat in peace. Kyle and Lauren strolled over the footbridge, admiring the fairy lights woven through the trees and the enormous Christmas tree decorated in blue and silver for the season.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Kyle said. She drew a deep breath of the clean, clear winter air and nodded, smiling up at the tree. He turned the camera toward her and fired off a few shots.
“Hey, I didn’t put any makeup on.”
“You don’t need it. You are beautiful.” Kyle lowered the camera and their eyes met. Lauren’s cheeks heated at the compliment, as flashes of their night together played through her mind. Kyle leaned over to brush his lips over hers before tugging her along the path by the hand. They walked along for a while, following the snow covered paths as best they could, Kyle stopping to snap shots every so often. They made their way to the famous duckling statue, commemorating Mrs. Mallard and her eight little ducklings from Make Way for Ducklings. For the winter, they wore crimson scarves, waving jauntily in the breeze.
“Do you know their names?” Lauren asked.
“Fuzzy, Buzzy…” Kyle guessed.
“Jack, Kack, Lack, Mack, Nack, Ouack, Pack, and Quack. But my favorite is Nack here.” Lauren dusted off the fifth duckling statue. Unlike his siblings, he stood tall, perpetually quacking toward the sky, marching to the beat of his own drummer.
“How’d you know that?”
“We did a wedding here in the spring. I memorized their names to keep the kiddos entertained. Though one little boy absolutely insisted that the last duckling here was named Gracie and kept trying to feed her pretzels. Finally, we decided that Gracie could be Mrs. Mallard’s name.” She patted Mrs. Mallard’s head, dusting the snow off her back. “I loved this story as a kid about the Mallard family making their way to safety. I’ve always loved children’s books. I thought for a while I might be an illustrator.”
Lauren straightened, surprised she’d just blurted out one of her most guarded secrets. Even Erin didn’t know that. She hadn’t thought of it herself in ages. She swallowed hard, bracing for Kyle’s derision.
“You’d be awesome at that!” Kyle said, a wide grin on his face. “One of my buddies wives wrote a children’s book, to explain to the kids why daddy was away in the military. She really struggled to find a good illustrator. I can put you in touch with her, if you’d like.”
“Maybe.” Lauren said, smiling, afraid to get her hopes up too much.
“No maybe about it. I saw your work last night. You’re very talented.”
“Thanks.” Lauren shrugged, her gaze falling to her toes.
“How come you didn’t pursue it before?” Kyle asked, his head cocked to the side. He didn’t seem judgmental, merely curious.
Lauren chewed on her lower lip, trying to think how to explain it to him. “I’ve always been out of sync with my peers. Always. I was the quirky kid, dressed funny, in too bright colors, and offbeat. I wanted to go to art school but I just followed the crowd, trying to fit in like these little ducklings, here, and, instead, always standing out. And now, I’m still floating around like some misfit butterfly.”
“Maybe that’s because the crowd’s path isn’t for you.”
Lauren glanced around the quiet park before contemplating the frosty bronze ducklings, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Kyle waited for her to sort out her thoughts, his green eyes intense on her face, his camera loose in his hands.
“Erin insisted on going to our high school reunion back in the spring. Ten years. And they were
all so different and yet so unchanged. They were all becoming their parents in one way or another. Got through college, graduate school, marriage, some had kids. Like they were just checking things off on their life to-do list. And I had none of that.”
“Erin doesn’t have that, either.” Kyle pointed out.
“True, but she’s got the business. And now Matthew.”
“I bet those other kids didn’t have it all together at all. They’re just pretending they do,” Kyle said. “Half of them are probably going to divorce, statistically speaking. Maybe they feel like they’ve spent their twenties married to the wrong person. Or maybe they felt like they didn’t get the chance to experience life because they were early parents. And even if they are all gloriously happy pod people, a whole class of Stepford spouses, so what? That wouldn’t have made you happy, right?”
“No, that’s true.” Lauren nodded, feeling somewhat cheered by the conversation.
With a last pat for Mrs. Mallard’s head, they walked on, crossing Charles Street and entering Boston Common. They made their way through the park, watching squirrels dance merrily over the snow and laughing at a chattering chipmunk.
“You mentioned the other night that you sell your paintings in an online store,” Kyle said, thoughtfully. “So, doesn’t that mean that you have your own business, too?”
Lauren shrugged and then smiled. “I guess you’re right. Maybe I do have something to show the pod people.”
“Actually, I wanted to ask you a favor.” Kyle rubbed the back of his neck, glancing up at the sky nervously. “Would you help me set up a store to sell my photos? If it wouldn’t be too much trouble?”
“Sure.” Lauren said as he took her hand again. They wandered over to the Frog Pond, now an ice skating rink but closed for the holiday. They found a bench near the empty rink and sipped coffee from the thermos Lauren carried, snacking on Christmas cookies that Lauren’s landlady made. Kyle snapped a few idle shots but mostly, they just enjoyed the bright sunshine, after the storm ended.
Once a Bridesmaid Page 7
