What They Don't Know (Won't Hurt Them Trilogy #1)

by O. Y. Flemming

  “Repeat after me. No avail.” I don't say anything because I'm shocked. He has my pussy in his hand.

  “Say it!” He lets out a forceful whisper yell.

  “No avail,” I whisper.

  “Remember it tonight.” He lets go of my arm. Before he removes his hand, he squeezes my sex. I inhale quickly, as I instantly see red. I excuse myself to the bathroom to calm myself from what I can only think of as my hormones taking over my body. What am I trying to accomplish by this? Why haven't I thrown either of them out yet? Subconsciously, it’s because of Bryant. I know he wants this deal. I'll let him down, as well as Mr. Wilke, if I don't agree to Cruz's agreement. Why me?

  I change clothes to clean up the small incident Cruz caused in my panties. Despicable body of mine. Bryant appears in the mirror, as I lift my head from washing my face. Of course, it scares the hell out of me.

  “You have to stop doing that.” He hugs me from behind, and I turn around. He pulls me into another hug.

  “Sorry, Bria, I really want this. Thanks for working with him for me.”

  “Yeah. Whatever.”

  “C'mon, Bree, don't do this.”

  “Do what, Bryant?” I try to push past him; he holds me in place against the sink.

  “Don't ruin this for me.”

  “Are you fucking serious? I've been behind you, even now. Even when this fidiot is being just that.”

  “What?” he questions my use of the word.

  “Fidiot, fucking idiot.”

  Bryant laughs. “Bree, is it too much to get along with him?”

  “Bryant, I'm doing what you asked of me,” I laugh. “I don't have to like it okay!”

  “Fine, Bria, you want to be the cause that ends the deal. End the fucking deal!”

  I move past him into the hall. “Can we just get through tonight? I do have work in the morning.”

  “Yeah, let's eat, Bria. I'll be out of your hair tonight.”

  “Thank goodness.”

  * * *

  We got through dinner without arguing or disagreeing, most likely, because I didn't speak at all. Cruz kept his eyes on me, and I stared at my meal, which only received half my attention. I’d lost my appetite, and just wanted the night to end. I didn't touch my wine, because I switched it with Bryant’s. We’d both left the room, when we retuned, Cruz offered to pour wine for the three of us. He claimed it was the least he could do. I thought it was BS, so I asked Bryant to get me Parmesan Reggiano from the refrigerator. Of course, Cruz saw me switch them, but did nothing to prevent me from doing so. I’m sure the sharp cutlery near me played a factor.

  The dining area needs to be cleaned. I insist I'll finish up; I just want both of them to leave. I’m no longer in the mood for homemade ice cream. Bryant insists on staying, but if Cruz knew any better, he'd get Bryant out of here. For the sake of Bryant, the deal, and my sanity, they both should leave.

  Bryant comes into the kitchen, as I’m cleaning the dishes. He wraps his arms around my chest from behind, and nudges his nose at the side of my neck.

  “Bryant, please just go home.”

  “You don't want that, Bree; we have to have make up sex.”

  “Couples have make up sex, Bry,” I say sarcastically. He freezes then turns me around. Water is dripping from my hands onto the floor.

  “What's your problem tonight?”

  “What's my problem? Let's see, you invited someone I don't like to my home without my permission. You’ve forced me to work with the jerk. You didn't side with me about him coming on to me. You're wish-washy with this.” I point to him then back to me. “Whatever the fuck this thing is, we have. Oh, you tell our business to my boss, which is awkward all together. Should I go on?” I yell. Just as I turn, I slip on the water that’s dripped on the floor, and Bryant tries to grab me. He slips in the puddle too. We both go flying, feet in the air, and land on our asses.

  He lands slightly on top of me. He laughs so hard I see tears in his eyes. I, on the other hand, think I sprained my ankle. No laughter comes from me, just pain as I hold my foot. Cruz walks in. He eyes us on the floor, mainly Bryant on top of me. He grabs paper towels to clean up the small puddle on the floor.

  “Give me your hand.” He pulls me from under Bryant and lifts me off my feet.

  “I'm fine. I can walk.”

  He lowers me to the floor and I wince because it hurts.

  “Shit!”

  “Are you okay?” both ask.

  “Yeah, I'm good. You guys go! Please, I'll get this cleaned up in a bit.”

  “Your ankle looks swollen, Bria; you need medical attention,” Cruz says.

  “It does, Bree. I'm sorry I tried catching you. Looks like I made it worse.”

  “Yeah, you probably should have just let her fall. You falling on top of her didn't help any.”

  With Cruz’s tone, his statement comes off kind of harsh, even Bryant notices it.

  “Man, I said I attempted to catch her.”

  “But you didn't, now did you?”

  “Dude, what's up?”

  “Nothing, man, she's hurt that's all I'm saying, and she needs medical attention.”

  “I'm fine. Really, I am.”

  “Bria. How are you fine? Can you even stand on your foot? Huh, tell me that?”

  Ahh, Cruz seems upset. A little part of me feels something for him. It's sweet he's upset about my injury. Ugh…

  “Dude, I'll take her to emergency.”

  “Don't bother, I'll do it. Don't call me dude again, Bryant; that shit's annoying.”

  Bryant laughs. “What's up with you?”

  “I told you; she’s hurt, and you’re acting like it’s nothing.”

  “Cruz, this is my best friend. She’s tougher than you think. Most men don't have the balls she has.”

  Cruz turns to face Bryant. “I'm taking her to the hospital. You can ride if you like. Otherwise, stop acting like a total ass.”

  “Okay, guys, seriously.”

  They're staring each other down; it's making me nervous.

  “She doesn't even like you,” Bryant sneers.

  “Doesn't matter what she likes. She’s going to the hospital to get checked out,” Cruz demands.

  “Does it matter what I want?” I ask. Cruz turns to meet my eyes and shakes his head. “I'm fine, really. I'll be okay.”

  “Walk, Bria,” he says harshly. As silly as it is, I try to walk. On the first step, I almost take a tumble. Bryant catches one arm and Cruz has the other.

  Okay, fine, emergency it is.

  * * *

  I’m exhausted when Cruz and I leave the emergency room, two hours later.

  “Are you going to work tomorrow?” he asks, holding me up. Cruz hands me the crutches. I'm worse on these things. They tend to cripple me more than help. Thankfully, I have no sprain or break. My ankle is only twisted; I'll be fine by Thursday or Friday.

  “Work tomorrow isn't looking good,” I say to him. “Thanks for bringing me.”

  “No problem, I’m sorry for being impatient back at the hospital and at your house. I kind of lost it with Bryant.”

  “Yeah, I noticed that. Can I ask why?”

  “You can ask anything,” Cruz laughs. “I'm not obligated to answer.”

  “And there goes the Cruz King I know,” I say very loud.

  “What? You thought I was a nice guy because I gave you a ride to the hospital?”

  “Yeah, I actually thought you were thoughtful.”

  “Oh, hell no, I need to slap you on your ass, or spit in public.”

  “You’re disgusting.”

  “Yeah, I wouldn't spit in public.”

  We both laugh, and I see for the first time a hint of amusement on his face. Not the sarcastic, dominant perv from earlier. Finally making it to his car, Cruz opens the door to help me in.

  “Not sure where these are going.” I hand him the crutches.

  “We'll work it out,” he says, as he walks around to the driver’s side. Cruz strategicall
y places the crutches in the rear of the car, so they are barely angled into the front of the car, out of our way. As we begin to pull away from the hospital, Cruz looks over at me; his smile breaks the tension. His smile also says something wicked. This man is a temptation I need nothing to do with.

  “So you were checking out my car, huh?”

  “I was and still am.”

  “It's nothing really.”

  “What? Are you kidding me? You have customized parts on this car no one would have thought to do.”

  “Wow. You notice that stuff?” He looks at me as if I'm strange for noticing.

  “What? Don't look at me like that.”

  “But you're so feminine.”

  “So, what does femininity have to do with anything?”

  “I can't see you bent over, working on a— Wait a minute scratch that. I'd love to see you bent over working on a car, in a tight tank and some short shorts. Mmmm,” he says. I smack his arm.

  “Perv.”

  “I didn't say short-ass shorts.”

  “What's the difference?” I question.

  “Short shorts, doesn't show ass cheeks.”

  “Oh, that makes it better,” I scoff.

  He laughs, but quickly turns serious. “It does make it better, but I don't think I could take someone seeing your ass cheeks.” I stare at him, as he stares at the road ahead. “Why do you allow Bryant to treat you that way?”

  “I'm not sure what you mean, Cruz.”

  “He treats you as if you're one of the guys until he needs something from you.”

  “Needs something from me?”

  “Yeah. Sex in particular.”

  I fidget in my seat because I don't want to talk to Cruz about Bryant.

  “It's not that way.”

  “Then how is it? From what I've observed, he fucks you when he feels like it. No emotions involved.”

  “What's wrong with that?”

  He shrugs. “I guess nothing if that's all you want. Shit's not healthy, that's for sure,” he adds.

  I just roll my eyes and shake my head. I'm silent the rest of the way home. I don't see Bryant's car when Cruz and I pull up.

  “Shit, how am I going to get up those stairs?”

  “C'mon, let’s get you in.

  “Okay.”

  I don’t bother to argue. It will just be useless. Cruz rounds his car to open the door for me. He helps me to my feet, and grabs the crutches from the back seat.

  “Hold these,” Cruz says, giving me the crutches.

  “I would have assumed so. I have to walk on them,” I sarcastically respond.

  “No, you don't.”

  “Please put me down, Cruz,” I squeal as he picks me up.

  “We'll get there quicker this way.” Before I can contest, he has me at my front door. He hasn't lowered me yet, so I pull the keys from my pocket to open the door as he holds me close.

  “Bryant!” I call out.

  “He's gone,” Cruz says.

  “How do you know?”

  “I texted him and told him to go home.” He lowers me to my feet to stand on the crutches. I feel heavier since he’s put me down.

  “Look Cruz, I agreed to your demands. You don't have to keep Bryant away from me.”

  He laughs. “I trust Bryant. It's you I don't trust.”

  “Why in the hell don't you trust me?”

  “Bryant's a man; he can jerk off and be happy when you turn him down. You on the other hand,” he says as he moves in close to me. He brushes my hair from the side of my face. “You have needs; a vibrator or your own touch will satisfy. I know women pretty well. They thrive from a man's touch. Especially when there's fire within them. You, Bria, you have fire and it only blazes temporarily with Bryant. Temporarily is good for you, with him.”

  I shake my head. “You don't know me.” He looks into my eyes, and I think he sees past me.

  “I know you're into your career. I know you're not into Bryant Morgan, and I know how wet your pussy gets with just the thought of me.”

  I inhale hard and hold my breath. I exhale as he takes my lips. I melt at his feet. His kiss is hard, gentle, and demanding at the same time. I drop the crutches to run my fingers through his short, tapered hair. His tongue finds mine; his minty taste drives me insane. Cruz strokes my tongue with his until I pull away.

  “Please, I can't.”

  “Oh, but you can and you will, Bria. Just not tonight, I need your mind and body at 100 percent.”

  I look at him curiously.

  “Honey, I'm going to fuck your mind and then your body. You'll need to recover from that before I repeat.” Cruz carries me to my bedroom. It makes me curious to know how he knows where it is. He pushes the door open with his foot, I look up, and he senses my anxiety. Cruz lays me on the bed. He sits beside me before he speaks.

  “Do you need anything?”

  “Yes, Bryant.”

  Cruz frowns, it’s a cute frown, but I don't think he meant for it to be.

  “What can he do, that I can't?”

  I look away because my best friend is just that, my best friend. At the end of the day, he's what I need. I can't believe he left me.

  “Hey,” he says in a softer tone. “What is it that you need from Bryant?”

  “Him, just him,” I barely speak. “I need…”

  “What? What do you need, Bria?”

  I turn my head away from Cruz as I continue to speak.

  “I just need Bryant to lie with me tonight.”

  I take a quick glance in Cruz’s direction; he's wincing with his eyes closed.

  “I'll call him for you when I get to my car.”

  “Okay,” I say.

  I have a feeling I'm not quite sure what it is. Maybe, it’s because I was hoping Cruz wasn't an actual ass. I was hoping he would be the one to comfort me tonight. Bryant will do though; he's my comfort zone. However, tonight, I saw a side of Cruz I thought wasn’t possible for such an arrogant asshole. He had compassion. I'm not sure if it was the fact it was me, or because I'm a woman. Surely, not because I'm helpless. Anyone who knows me will laugh with the words helpless and Bria in the same sentence. I don't know; he struck something in me. Maybe he can be a decent man when you get past the intimidating arrogance. I'll keep my distance, but I'll observe.

  The pain medication is beginning to work; sleep is overtaking me.

  CHAPTER 10

  I'm not going to work this morning; the decision was made when my alarm screamed into my ear at seven. Last night’s events came to mind. The arguments, the injury, and the inappropriate way Cruz touched me. Oh hell, this ache between my thighs needs to be rectified. Bryant isn't here to rectify it; why didn't he come back? I force myself up to go to the bathroom. I grab a crutch because the slight pinch of pain I felt when my foot hit the floor, tells me that assistance is needed. When I get into the bathroom, I notice my bedroom door is open. I seriously have to go, so I don't even bother to hobble over to close it. No one is here but me. Before the thought leaves my mind, I hear movement and I look up to see Mr. Pool Guy. Cruz is standing in my bathroom staring. No, scratch that, gawking at me while I'm on the toilet.

  “Oh, my God! Get out!” I grab the nearest thing, which happens to be a roll of toilet paper, and launch it at him. He catches it and laughs.

  “Nice arm, honey.”

  “Get out, Cruz!”

  “Okay, but are you good to get up?”

  “I got down here! Get out!”

  He turns his back, while he's laughing. I'm sitting there pulling at the T-shirt I have on, which catches my attention. How did I get out of my clothes last night?

  He peeks his head around the corner again.

  “Hey, are you working from home this morning?”

  “Yes! Please, can I have some privacy?”

  “Do you mind if I make breakfast? You really need to eat. You didn't eat much last night and the medicine you're taking requires food.”

  “Go ahead, Cruz. I don't rea
lly care. Just give me some privacy.” I’m irritated, he's not looking in at me, but I know he's still here.

  “Cruz!”

  “Yeah?”

  “Why are you still standing there?” He pops his head back in and stares at me.

  “I don’t think I can find you sexier than right now.”

  “Ugh, get out!”

  He laughs; it’s kind of an infectious one. I cover my face with my palms, as I let out a giggle. “Ass,” I say quietly.

  I hobble back to my bedroom to grab the other crutch. I make my way to the kitchen area. “Can I help with anything?”

  Cruz looks me up and down, and then shakes his head.

  “Are you sure? I can crack eggs or something.”

  “Yes, or something, stay off that foot,” he says in a low tone. I hobble to the island where Bryant forced his mouth on me a few nights ago. The thought of that moment is doing nothing for me right now. Usually, I get a little warm thinking of Bryant and my sex-sessions. Wow, the brain usually stimulates the body to react to such a thing. Psychology 101.

  “Shit!” I yelp. Cruz turns quickly to assess what I'm doing. He walks over, takes one of the crutches to help me sit on the stool. Something so simple has rendered me… Oh no. There it is; I'm helpless. The thought quickly diminishes when I feel how gentle his touch is. I hold on to his arm, so I don't take a dive again. This man is large; he's standing at six feet looking down on me with an irritated, but concerned look in his eye.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. I'm fine now, thanks.” Cruz’s arms look well sculpted up close; he's a well-built man. Remembering him in the pool melts me into one. I still hold on to him as he stares at me with those devious eyes.

  “Are you sure you're okay?”

  “Uh, yeah.” I snap out of whatever it was I was in. “I don't take medicine often.”

  “Yeah, why?” He walks back into the kitchen to whatever he's cooking.

  “It alters your habits and thinking.”

  “You read that somewhere?” He turns and asks holding the spatula in his hand. All I can think about is the Naked Cook. OH MY GOD, why am I thinking about this man naked? I've already seen parts of him, which stick out in my mind... Figuratively speaking.