by Lexi Ryan
She stands and stretches her arms over her head, giving me a view of her soft thighs and the black triangle of lace between her legs. I took my time kissing and touching her there last night, but I still want more.
“You keep looking at me like that, and you’re going to make me late to work.” She glances at the clock on the stove and groans. “I can’t believe it’s after seven and I still need to run home and shower.”
Not bothering to stand, I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her to me, sliding the borrowed shirt up before nuzzling my face against her stomach. “You’d like the shower here,” I say, running kisses across her abdomen. She shivers and slides her fingers into my hair. I fucking love when she does that. It reminds me of being between her legs, of the hungry whimpers and pleas as I licked and sucked. “And I need to fuck you again before I leave.”
She freezes in my arms, and her hands go slack in my hair. I’m so busy sliding my hand between her legs and feeling how slick she is there that it takes me a minute to register why.
I pull back and look up at her. “Four days in Atlanta,” I explain. “Alec’s flying in today, and we have business meetings that can’t wait.” I stroke her between her legs, and her eyes float closed. She widens her stance to make room for my hand, but instead of giving her what she wants, I tug her toward me. “Come here.”
She straddles my lap and loops her arms behind my neck. “You don’t have to explain yourself. Of course you need to work.”
“If our schedule weren’t so crazy, I’d come back every night.” I kiss her gently and groan as she rocks against me. She’s so fucking wet. I can feel her through her panties and my boxer briefs.
I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight, and stand.
Brinley squeaks in protest but wraps her legs behind my back. “What are you doing?”
I head toward the stairs and the luxury shower waiting for us up there. “I’m making you late.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Brinley
It’s been a long freaking week. And it’s only Wednesday.
My parents are still in town—not that they’re talking to me. They’re just around. Meaning there’s potential for any public outing to turn excruciating if I happen to run into them.
Cami’s having the time of her life at Disney World and sending me pictures that alternately make me smile and remind me of this missing piece of me. I never feel quite right when she’s gone. Her birthday was yesterday, and after I sang to her over FaceTime, I indulged in a private little cry over not being there with her.
Every time I get a message on my work email from anyone in the Wright family, I go tense all over, convinced the ax is about to drop.
And Marston’s still in Atlanta. He texts me between meetings, calls me at night, and generally has me so wound up that I’m likely to jump him the second he walks in the door on Friday.
When I enter my condo after work Wednesday, Julian’s keys are on the entryway table.
My stomach pitches. We haven’t spoken since he stormed out Friday night. Maybe he’s here to talk. Maybe he’s going to apologize for the way he acted and admit he played a part in how all this unfolded. I screwed up, and I can forgive him for being hurt, but he lied to me to get me to agree to this marriage and then snooped through my things. I think there are apologies owed on both sides if we’re going to maintain our friendship going forward.
I drop my purse by his keys and head toward the sound of steps in the bedroom, but when I step inside, I gasp.
The closet door’s wide open, and inside are big boxes piled full of my clothes. On the bed, more boxes with all of my belongings piled inside.
Julian’s stooped in the corner, taping shut yet another box, and when he looks up at me, his eyes narrow. “I’m done with Cami’s room. You can help me with the kitchen after this.”
I look around, taking in the boxes one at a time. “What?” I shake my head. I’m completely missing something. “What’s happening here, Julian?”
He straightens and tosses the packing tape on the bed. “I’ve let you and your kid live here for less than half rent for months while you led me on. I have a waiting list of people who will pay more than list rent for this condo. I’m done losing for you.”
“Losing what?”
“Money, time, my future, and my pride. I’ve given enough, and you’ve given me shit-all in return. Nothing but empty promises. I’m done. I need you out yesterday so I can get someone in here who isn’t going to take and take and never give back.”
That feeling in my stomach turns to a full-on twist of knots. “You’re the one who wanted me to live here,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I told you I couldn’t afford it, but you insisted.”
“I wouldn’t have done that if I’d known you were married to that asshole, though, would I?”
He’s right. I swallow back my angry retort and scramble to think of a solution. “I’ll borrow money from—” From my parents? Unlikely. And my friends don’t have it. Kace might, but he just bought a house that he’s renovating and . . . I shake my head. “I’ll borrow it from somewhere. Somehow. Let me pay full rent until I can find somewhere else.”
“Even if someone would give you the money—and I seriously doubt that—I wouldn’t take it.” He looks around my disaster of a bedroom slowly, his disgust palpable. “You can’t have everything handed to you your whole life and never expect to give something in return, Brin.”
Handed to me. That’s how he’s seen this arrangement: him spoiling the rich girl who’s never had to pull her own weight.
He said he wanted me and Cami to have a nice place to live. He said he wanted to take care of us and this was all part of being a family . . . and now my name’s not even on the lease, so I don’t have a leg to stand on. I knew better, but I told myself it’d be okay because Julian isn’t like my father. Julian’s kind. Julian cares about me.
History repeats itself. Only now, instead of finding myself at my father’s will, I’m at Julian’s.
“Where do you expect me to go?” I ask, my voice shaking.
“I don’t give a shit where you go, Brinley. As long as it’s nowhere close to me.” He pulls out a dresser drawer and dumps it over an empty box, sending bras and panties all over the place. “Go live with that man you married. Then again, I hear he left town on Monday. Maybe he doesn’t want you, now that he knows his wife’s been fucking me for the last six years.”
I flinch. “Julian, can we just—”
“Or go to Florida and move in with your mom and dad.” He smirks and gives a condescending tilt of his head. “Wait. You can’t do that either. Guess what? No one wants to take in the spoiled bitch.”
I don’t want his words to hit home, but they feel so true that I’m nauseated. “I am sorry I screwed up,” I say. “Please listen. I—”
He holds up a hand, just like my father. “You’re lucky I didn’t send someone to get your shit out of here. I’m trying to do you a solid.”
“By kicking me out?”
“By helping you pack.”
My day was a disaster, but luckily I have the best friends in the whole world. Once I decided I’d had enough verbal abuse from Julian, I promised him I’d be out by dark and suggested he leave before my cousin Smithy arrived. That was it. One final angry glare and Julian was gone, and shortly after that, my friends were there.
Savvy, Stella, Abbi, and I moved boxes into the U-Haul I rented minutes before they closed, and Kace, Smithy, and Stella’s brother Dean loaded my furniture into it.
We took everything but a couple of suitcases of necessities to Kace’s garage for temporary storage, and now we’re all exhausted.
I jump in for a quick shower while everyone cools off with beers in Kace’s living room. Since Kace is the only one with two extra bedrooms, I’ll stay with him for the time being. I considered moving into his pool house, but it’s a studio, and as much as I love my daughter, I love occasional privacy too. Hopefully I can f
ind a place quickly that can get us in right away, but I’m exhausted just thinking about it. I feel like I’ve been beaten from the inside out.
As much as I’d like to pretend Julian and my father are both wrong about me and my decisions, the truth rang clear in so many of the cruel things they said. I’ve made a fool of myself and my family too, and now my shitty decisions are going to throw another wrench in Cami’s life.
I climb out of the shower and head to the guest bedroom to change out of my towel and into clean clothes. Stella’s sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for me. She gives me the kind of sad eyes people usually reserve for mutilated puppies. “Hey, baby girl. You okay?”
I want to be strong. I really do, but this week has been too much, so all I can do is shrug.
“I am so sorry.”
“Why do people keep apologizing to me?” I ask, my eyes filling with tears. “I’m the asshole here.”
She stands and frowns at me. “How do you figure?”
“I got drunk in Vegas, married a guy my parents hate, and then nearly committed a federal crime by accident to marry a guy I don’t even love. Then we broke up, and I conveniently forgot he’d been giving me a break on my rent.” I stretch my arms out to my sides to indicate the metaphorical disaster all around me. “And I don’t even know what’s going to happen with The Orchid.”
“Right. That.” She shrugs. “No, I’m sorry we didn’t all tell you sooner that Julian’s a big asshat and he doesn’t deserve you.”
To be fair, they did tell me. They just tried to do it nicely.
She takes my hands. “If we hadn’t let you get engaged to him, this never would’ve happened.”
“First of all, I’m a grown woman and it’s not your responsibility to keep me from making mistakes.” I blow out a breath. “Second of all . . . thank you. I’m not sure I deserve you.”
“Pssh. No one deserves me,” she says with a wink.
“I wish I had a crystal ball. I feel like I have no idea what my life is going to look like next week.”
Her eyes go big. “Or one of those fortune-teller machines! Remember the ones they had at the fair when we were kids? Brittany was obsessed with those.”
A familiar tug of loneliness pulls at my heart at the mention of my sister, and I have to swallow hard before I can speak again. “When the fair comes this summer, let’s go find one. She’d like that.”
Stella gives a sharp nod. “It’s a plan. Now get dressed and come out there to have a beer with your friends. Everyone’s worried about you.”
“I don’t know.” I look at the ceiling, willing my eyes to dry. “I’m such a fucking mess right now, Stella.”
She slings an arm around my shoulder and squeezes me tight. “Come on. You need your girls, and we need to see that you’re okay—which you are, because you’re fucking fierce and can handle anything.”
I laugh at the modified mantra I share with Cami all the time and blink away my tears. I am fierce, dammit. “Thanks.”
“Absolutely. Trust me—of all people, I get how much guys suck.”
“Once again, I feel compelled to point out that in this situation, I’m the one who sucks, and you still haven’t told me what happened in Jamaica.”
“Hmm.” Another shrug then she points at my overnight bag next to the bed. “Get to primping, baby boo. Your friends are waiting.”
I wait for her to leave and shut the door before I pull off my towel and use it to dry my hair. On the nightstand, my phone flashes with a new message, and I pick it up.
Marston: I bought you something special.
“You can’t have everything handed to you your whole life and never expect to give something in return, Brin.” Julian’s words are a living thing eating away at my confidence and sense of self.
Me: You didn’t need to buy me anything. The only gift I want is another night with you.
I stare at my phone after I send the message, realizing how complicated nights together are going to be once Cami gets home.
Marston: I want that too. I’m doing everything I can to make sure it happens.
I frown as I reread his message half a dozen times. Everything he can? Does that mean he might not be coming back? Even the possibility of that makes me feel too heavy. Please come back. Please don’t make me say goodbye yet.
Julian’s words gnaw at me again. “I’ve given enough, and you’ve given me shit-all in return.”
I can’t ask Marston to stay forever. He has a life on the other side of the country, a house, friends, and a business to run. I type, I’m not asking you to stay forever, then delete it. Then I type, I don’t want you sacrificing anything for me, then delete that too. Finally, I manage a message I don’t have to overanalyze.
Me: Cami’s home Saturday, but Friday night is yours.
Marston: Just Friday? That’s a start, but you know me better than to think that’ll be enough.
I swallow hard. Because I do.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Brinley
Friday morning, after my staff meeting and just as I’ve sat down to fire up my computer, Marston stalks into my office in jeans and a fitted T-shirt, looking so good I want to eat him up.
“I didn’t think I’d see you until later,” I say, grinning.
He shuts the door behind him. Locks it. The heavy click echoes off my office walls, and I feel it between my legs—a clench, a vibration, a promise. “This morning’s meeting got canceled last minute, so I canceled my lunch meeting because I was sick of waiting to see you.” He stalks around to my side of the desk, eyes dark, intense. “How are you this morning?”
“I’m okay.” I stand and smooth down my black-and-white wrap dress. I put it on this morning thinking of him, imagining what it would be like when I finally got him alone tonight and he untied the bow and . . . I’m too full of nerves to sit, but now that I’m out of my chair, I don’t know what to do with my hands. “I’ve missed you,” I whisper.
He trails his gaze over me and leaves shivers in his wake. My nipples tighten against the lace of my bra as I anticipate the feel of his mouth on mine. “You sleep okay?”
No. Kace’s house creaks in ways I’m not used to and I just feel . . . weird staying there. “Not bad.” I was up half the night thinking about him. Wanting him. The other half, I was worrying—about Cami and how our sudden move is going to affect her, and about what I’m doing with Marston. Can we make this work? Am I asking for heartache if I even try?
His nostrils flare as he takes in my heels—my Vegas heels—because of course I couldn’t spend all night thinking about him and not wear these shoes today. “I didn’t,” he says, as his hand slides behind my neck.
“I’m sorry. Didn’t wha—” His mouth crushes down on mine and his hands slide up my sides to my ribs, his thumbs skimming my breasts.
I kiss him back hard and tug his shirt from his pants, considering and dismissing the unlikely possibility of someone seeing us through the picture window. I’ve wanted this since that first time he walked into my office, and now that I can take it, I don’t let rational thought deter me.
He tears his mouth from mine and kisses his way to my ear. “I went to sleep wanting you. I woke up wanting you.”
I palm him through his jeans, and he thrusts his hips forward, pressing into my touch. “Same,” I whisper.
He unties the bow on my dress but parts the fabric slowly, kissing his way down each additional inch of exposed skin. His mouth is open, wet, and hot—between my breasts, over the swell of each, across each nipple. When he reaches my waist, he circles my navel with his tongue and the dress falls to the floor. The muscles between my legs clench in anticipation.
He drops to his knees and his gaze zeroes in on my sex, covered only in the sheer white material of my panties. He licks his lips and hooks a finger at each hip before guiding them down my thighs.
He cups me with a firm palm between my thighs, and my legs shake as I step apart to keep my balance. “On the desk.” His
voice is gruff, thick with lust, and I don’t dare ignore the command. I don’t want to.
I push a pile of paperwork to the side and hoist myself onto the big walnut desk and reach for him, but he shakes his head and takes a seat in my chair. He parts my thighs with his hands. “This is mine today. I’m not waiting another minute to taste you again.”
With the first stroke of his tongue over me, I have to bite back a moan, and a little whimper escapes instead.
Turning his head, he presses a firm kiss to the inside of my thigh. “Can you be quiet for me, baby? Let me have this?”
“Yes,” I whisper, then I have to bite my lip again because he’s sweeping his tongue over my clit, and I’m so sensitive that I tremble beneath his mouth, my hips making jerky little thrusts I can’t quite control.
“Stop holding back,” he growls. “I want to feel you unleashed.” This time when he lowers his mouth back down, he slides a finger inside me. He moves in and out, adding another finger and fucking me with his hand as he sucks and licks my clit and the tender skin all around where his fingers are buried inside me.
I’m right on the edge, so close to coming when he lifts his head and withdraws his fingers.
“Not yet, baby. Hold on.” Standing, he unbuckles his belt. He reaches for his back pocket, grabs a condom, and tears the wrapper. I shove down his jeans, freeing his cock, my mouth watering, my body desperate.
Sitting, I stare down at where he’s sliding the latex over his shaft. I hook a foot behind each of his powerful thighs and tug him closer. I’ve never needed anything as much as I need him inside me.
