by C. C. Piper
I shrugged. “I know he likes ice cream. I figured you probably did, too.” What woman didn’t like ice cream? I’d never met one yet.
“Hot fudge is my favorite.”
“Good,” I replied cautiously. There was something off about her tone. Had I infringed on some special ritual of theirs?
The next episode auto-started, and she fell silent. I split my focus between it and Alaina as she finished the last of her fries. It reminded me of our “blind” date when we’d shared those appetizers, and I found myself trying to think of some nonchalant way to bring that night up. I almost had it when she muttered something under her breath. I hit pause.
“Did you say something?”
“Thank you,” she repeated, meeting my gaze at last. “Thank you for coming today, even though I lost. I deserved to lose.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s true, though. I can’t quit thinking about it. All those students were doing these like, generous, noble things. And what was my plan? Handbags. I must’ve sounded like some conceited, spoiled rotten, rich girl.”
“You’re not like that, Alaina,” I insisted, but she pushed on.
“I didn’t think I was prior to tonight, but now, I’m not so sure. I’ve been fixated on standing on my own without my parents, on achieving success so I wouldn’t owe them anything, but I feel so shortsighted. I live a life of privilege, Mason. I always have. And I don’t think I ever appreciated it until I saw what the other applicants were doing. How selfish could I be?”
I took her hand in mine. “Learning about who you really are and what you really want isn’t selfish. That’s what your college years are all about. You’ve just been exposed to something new and that might be jarring, but it doesn’t mean that there’s anything wrong with the direction you’re going.”
She latched onto my palm more firmly. “I want to do something worthwhile, too. I want to make a positive difference.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. I came up with the handbag idea back during my freshman year, but maybe I could turn it into something more fulfilling.” She collected the trash from our meal, rolled it up into a ball and headed off toward my kitchen, but she continued to speak in an impassioned voice. “I could donate part of the proceeds to a worthy cause.” After tossing it, she padded back into the living room. “What kind of stuff do you specialize in again?”
“Commercial law.”
“How’d you know that was what you wanted to do? How’d you decide to make that your life’s work?”
Now, I was stymied. I’d just sort of fallen into it because her father had said that specific field was lucrative. When I thought about what I did day to day, I wouldn’t say “life’s work” was how I’d describe it. My television, radio and online ads were phrased in such a way that people knew to come to me to help with their business interests. But oftentimes, I spent hours and hours filling out forms that ended in bankruptcies.
If I could, I’d focus more on assisting smaller businesses as they struggled to get off the ground and maybe increase the number of nonprofits I affiliated myself with. Unfortunately, I’d made a name for myself negotiating on the part of investors looking to buy out businesses that were floundering, so most of my time was spent with them.
There’d been times when I wished I’d gone into some other field, but it was too late for that. I’d worked for years to become a partner, and now that I’d finally reached that pinnacle, there was no throwing the gearshift into reverse. Bryant Williams had made me a partner only six months after he’d bestowed that same honor on his son, and I couldn’t disappoint him now.
Even if sometimes I wondered if I should concentrate less effort on making money and more on bettering the world in general.
“That’s what I’ll do,” Alaina was saying, but I’d missed a portion of whatever she’d been talking about. “I’ll simply make sure what I do will be rewarding. Lord,” she sighed out, pressing up against me in a hug. “I appreciate you helping me figure this out. I feel so much better now.”
“I…uh…I’m glad I could help,” I said, feeling kind of numb.
“I do have a question, though.”
“A question?” I parroted back at her like a numbskull.
“Yeah. After our um…date, I woke up in your bed.”
Any numbskullery I’d been experiencing evaporated. “Yes.”
“Did we… Did anything happen? Between us? Physically?” she clarified, her posture stiff as a board.
“No. I was going to bring you to your house. But because you were so out of it, I brought you here instead. I put you into bed and went to sleep on the sofa. That’s it, I promise.” Hell, we hadn’t even kissed.
Every muscle of hers appeared to relax. “I’m sorry I was such a fraidy-cat and snuck out. It’s not like you’re a stranger or something, but I acted like you were. I should’ve trusted you to be the gentleman you are instead of putting off this conversation for so long. Thank you for telling me.”
She placed a quick peck on my forehead, inciting a tingle on that section of skin. “Thank you for showing up for me tonight.” Another peck landed on my cheek with a second tingle. “Thank you for dinner.” A third peck and tingle caressed my other cheek. “And thank you for cheering me up.” Her lips fluttered across mine, inciting not just a localized tingle, but a full body sizzle of electricity.
Shwoosh.
The feeling roared through me, igniting my every cell like a struck match. She was so close, her mouth touching mine, her flowery scent wrapping itself around my senses like a warm blanket on a freezing winter’s day. And I forgot that this was Alaina Williams, daughter of my boss. I forgot that she was my best bud’s sister, the one I teased by calling her “buttercup”.
I even forgot my own damn name. All I knew was that she was touching me, kissing me, and I had to return the favor. Now.
Without logical thought, I fastened my mouth over hers. For a moment, she froze, going absolutely still against me. But then, she responded, her lips opening as she deepened the kiss.
I accepted her invitation, delving my tongue inside to taste her, and the familiar flavor of root beer flew across my taste buds. Someone moaned, I wasn’t certain who, but then things escalated further and her hands clutched at the lapels of my shirt as if she’d die if she didn’t hang on tight.
My arms wrapped themselves around her as her lips seared along the column of my throat, her cheek rubbing against my bristly chin. When she nipped at my Adam’s apple, I heard the moan again. This time it was louder and in stereo.
Both of us had moaned at the same time.
Good God.
7
Alaina
The room was swirling around me, but this time I was sober as a nun. No. The culprit this time was one hundred percent Mason, and I loved how this felt. Not that I hadn’t been kissed before. I had. But this one was different. This one made me want more. More than more. I wanted him to touch me everywhere. I craved it.
Right now.
My hands slid from his hard chest and down toward what I suspected would be a defined stomach. And lower. My fingers found his belt buckle, and then, feeling remarkably bold, slipped to the place where his arousal met with his zipper. The contact – even over his clothes – made both of us shiver. But unfortunately, it also made him pull away.
“Mother of God,” he huffed under his breath. “Wait, Alaina. Just wait.”
“Why?” The lust clouding my senses wanted to know.
“Because…” He pushed his fingers into each eye socket as if to block out something. “Because you’ve had a rough time lately. You’re probably not thinking this all the way through, and I’ll be damned if I take advantage of that.”
I blinked at him. “Are you saying you don’t like kissing me?”
He dropped his hands and palmed my chin, staring me in the eye. “Of course I like kissing you. We have an astronomical amount of chemistry. Obviously.” He tipped his own chin down tow
ard his undeniable erection before releasing a long breath and closing his eyes. “But anything but friendship between the two of us would be a mistake.”
I stood up from his sofa, needing the barrier of distance between us. My libido had caused my entire frame to thrum with desire, and my panties were wet from nothing but a few kisses. They were intense kisses to be fair, but that wasn’t the point. I agreed with Mason, even though I didn’t like agreeing with him. My brain told me one thing while my hormones demanded the opposite.
“I should collect my car and go home.”
Abruptly, he stood. “I’ll take you.”
Reluctantly, I nodded. We remained totally silent on the short drive across town, but I was thankful that my parents would be absent when we arrived. I needed alone time. I needed space to think.
Over all these years, including while with my boyfriend Auggie, I’d remained chaste and celibate. It seemed silly and even impossible at times, but it was true. I’d felt turned on before and had even come close to doing the deed, as my high school friends would say, but I never completed the act.
Auggie had eased his hands inside of my bra a few times, but for some reason, when it’d come to going further – especially over that final hurdle – I’d hesitated. I’d touched him till he erupted in my hand many times, but I was pretty sure I’d never experienced an orgasm, though I had enjoyed certain aspects of making out with my ex. Maybe deep down, I’d known he wasn’t being faithful and therefore, didn’t deserve my V card after all.
So here I was, twenty-one and within months of earning my undergrad degree, and I still lacked experience in what was supposed to be one of the most fundamental and life-affirming aspects of human existence.
Pathetic much?
Mason escorted me to my car and waited for me to start up the engine, but then he returned to his Escalade. He followed me out of the lot, only veering off as we both turned toward our two homes. He hadn’t made physical contact with me again. Maybe that was for the best.
Feeling a combination of exasperated and sexually frustrated, I marched inside the house I grew up in. The evening had been full of ups and downs, and I was more than ready to get back on more even ground. It wasn’t until I was in the shower that the full weight of reality dawned. I’d smooched Mason King: the boy I’d been raised beside, my teenage crush, and my brother’s best friend.
If I’d allowed myself to have some tawdry hookup with him tonight, I’d then have to face the consequences when I inevitably ran into him again.
Talk about awkward.
I washed off the day, scrubbing a little harder than was strictly necessary. Then, I threw on my most comfy nightshirt and hopped into bed. I laid there trying to clear the jumble of thoughts and feelings from my brain, doing my best to force myself to sleep.
My parents and brother stayed busy throughout the weekend, so it wasn’t until our family dinner the following Monday that I saw the three of them. This proved useful. I was able to process what had happened Friday without interference and decided my best plan would be to start networking with other smaller businesses in the area. Maybe the leaders of those establishments would offer me some advice if I asked nicely.
Monday night was our family dinner night. It was the one night of the week that everyone agreed to avoid social gatherings and when no night meetings were scheduled. Also, if someone went out of town, generally they came back by Monday morning. The arrangement might sound odd, but it worked for us. Or it had. I was still out of practice with these dinners. It had been such a long time since they’d been a regular part of my weekly activities.
As fate would have it, Mason showed up the very next Monday. I did my best to ignore his presence. I was cordial but aloof, which was all that was keeping me sane considering my track record with him.
I mean, I’d basically thanked him for coming to an awards ceremony I didn’t win, apologized for abandoning him on our “blind” date, then had thrown myself at him like some sort of floozy. I was probably confusing the crap out of him, because I was definitely confusing myself.
Mom, as usual, had had our in-home chef prepare the dinner. The food was as magnificent as always, but I barely tasted it. My body was so aware of Mason’s spicy yet cottony scent that my nipples stayed pebbled all night. Trying to ignore this, and him, stole the last reserves of my energy.
I sat down across from him so I wouldn’t risk accidentally bumping elbows or knees with him, but that rationale backfired. Instead of being next to me and out of my line of sight, I saw him every time I looked up or spoke to anyone at the table. It was unnerving having that handsome face of his so front and center.
“Alaina? Must you slouch like that? I would have thought being in the same country as an actual queen might have helped you adopt a more regal posture.”
Regal posture? Was she kidding me?
Too bad I knew she wasn’t. This was the way things were between us. And sadly, she wasn’t finished. Our main course of almond-encrusted salmon had been light enough fare that a half hour afterwards, my father began asking about dessert. Our chef had obliged him, and he, Andy and Mason had enthusiastically tucked in to her yummy cheesecake.
I’d taken a piece, too, and the first luscious bite of the stuff made me grateful to be back home. Maybe I’d been too focused on the cheesecake and the euphoria on Mason’s face when he’d scarfed it down because when my mother made her attack, it caught me utterly off-guard.
“Cheesecake is saturated with fat and carbs, Alaina. I would’ve thought you’d know better than to indulge after gaining all that weight in London.”
She’d castigated me like this before, of course, even as recently as the day I’d flown back to Seattle, but maybe I made a pained expression or something because Mason narrowed his eyes. “I don’t think buttercup here looks even remotely overweight.”
My mom acted as if she been called rude in front of her society friends. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. Alaina knows I’m only watching out for her. It’s maternal instinct to want your daughter to do her best.”
Normally, I let such things go. It wasn’t worth a shouting match right there at the table. But maybe because I’d been humiliated in front of Mason one too many times, I added my own comment. “Your maternal instinct is to slam my appearance?”
My mother clutched a hand to her throat as if to worry a strand of pearls. Since she wasn’t wearing any pearls, she rubbed her neck instead. “I’m not slamming you. I’m only encouraging you.”
I offered her a very unladylike grunt but said nothing more. Blessedly, neither did she.
In gratitude, I glanced over at Mason. Once our gazes locked, it was as if we were having a private telepathic conversation. His gorgeous chocolate brown eyes went from angered – presumably at my mom – to empathetic. Then, as the seconds ticked by, his stare gradually became heated. That last look of molten hotness enflamed me from the inside out, making my lower abdomen ache and my panties grow damp again.
Lord, I wanted him, despite knowing full well that I shouldn’t.
Why was my life so ridiculously complicated?
8
Mason
Over the subsequent month, I’d gone to every Williams family dinner with an almost religious devotion. In the past, I’d attended occasionally, but now I appeared at every single one.
Most people think of Mondays and feel dread, but all I felt was anticipation. I yearned to be in Alaina’s presence again, despite knowing that I shouldn’t. It was like dealing with some weird addiction. And although we’d been apart for a few years, I kept finding myself drawn to every little thing she did.
When she laughed harder than she intended to, she snorted. Her complexion also turned strawberry red during these times, which only made the whole situation both more charming and appealing. She had this cute little tell of twisting her pinky ring whenever she was nervous or tense. I knew if we ever played poker together, that tell would be quite useful.
I found myself
becoming dependent on family dinner night. Maybe because Alaina and I didn’t spend time together outside of these get-togethers, they became the brightest part of my week. Seeing her grin or hearing her laugh became like a talisman for me. As long as I carried those memories of her throughout those other six days, it was as if nothing – no matter how daunting – could bring me down.
I’d been so absorbed with all things Alaina-related that when October nineteenth dawned on another Monday, the impact of that day didn’t hit me until an hour before dinner started. I’d had a good day, too. My clients all cooperated with the instructions I gave them. I didn’t have to dissolve any businesses. I even arbitrated a difficult case between a divorcing couple who were also business partners so that it didn’t have to go to court.
So when the significance of the nineteenth of October slammed into me, it was enough to steal the breath from my lungs. In the seven years since it had happened, I’d never forgotten the date or the horribleness that had transpired afterwards. Yet, somehow, this year I had. I’d forgotten the anniversary of my parents’ deaths. My mom and dad were the best and most loving people I’d ever known, and I forgot them.
What kind of person did that make me?
No one good, that was for sure.
I’d been blessed with the kind of rock-solid parents everyone deserved but didn’t always get. I had, though. My upbringing had been one of security, support and dependability. They made sure I had boundaries and gave me consequences when I went outside them, but they never lost their tempers with me. They never so much as raised their voices at me, though once or twice, I’d watched them take deep breaths to rein themselves in.
I loved them, of course, but I hadn’t appreciated just how exemplary they were until after I lost them. Before they died, I’d spoken to them several times a week. I’d shared things about my classes. I’d gone to them when I needed advice or a shoulder for my burdens. We’d had the sort of tight relationship that meant I trusted them without question.
