Best Friend's Sister

by R. R. Banks

  “Just making some observations. But writers are often terrific profilers, if you must know,” she responds. “I find it kind of – interesting.”

  “Interesting, huh?”

  She nods. “Yeah. I mean, judging by the lack of family pictures, I’d guess you don’t have a wife or kids –”

  I take a sip of my wine. “Yeah, I’m probably not very kid-friendly as I’m sure you can attest to.”

  “You ever think about having them?”

  “What is this, a job interview?” I laugh.

  She sips her wine, a playful smile on her face. “Just making conversation,” she replies. “So, I’m assuming, based on the fancy gadgets in this place, that bodyguarding pays pretty well.”

  I give her a small shrug and a smile. “I get by okay.”

  She gives me a long, even look with that gaze. That gaze that feels like it’s peeling the skin off my bones. Like she can see straight through me.

  “You know what interests me more than anything else, though?” she asks.

  “This should be awesome.”

  Felicity grins and drains the last of her wine, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks taking on a warm glow. I pour her another glass and top my own off. The atmosphere between us is charged with an energy that sends an army of goosebumps marching across my skin, and a rush of desire surging through my body. I do my best to fight it off and focus only on what she’s saying – but it ain’t easy.

  “What I find interesting is that you go out of your way to portray yourself as something different than you are,” she observes, her eyes lingering on mine. “It’s what I meant about this cabin being a reflection of you – it looks like one thing on the outside – it’s what you want people to see. But inside, it’s very different.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  A smile pulls the corners of her mouth upward. “You’re perfectly content to let people think you’re just some musclebound idiot. That you’re a simple bodyguard,” she goes on. “But you’ve got quite a library back there. You’ve got very obvious layers, and a depth to you that you do your best to hide the fact that you’re obviously very sharp, very intelligent – ”

  “I’m pretty sure you’re overthinking this,” I cut her off with a grin. “I’m just a normal guy. Nothing special.”

  I take great pains to keep people from poking into my business and to keep them out of my head. Yet somehow, Felicity seems able to cut through it all. She somehow seems able to see me for who I really am. I guess she’s right, writers make good profilers. Which is very dangerous for me. The last thing I want is for her to be poking around in my head when I’m having enough trouble keeping my own thoughts and feelings in check as it is.

  “Am I?” she prods me.

  “Definitely,” I deflect. “It’s that creative writer’s brain of yours just running away with you.”

  “Just to continue with the cabin as your metaphor, the inside of the place is sterile. Clean. Devoid of any touches of your personality – except for your reading room that’s hidden away from everybody back there,” she continues as if I hadn’t even spoken. “It’s comfortable and it’s very well used. Maybe the most used room in the house.”

  “I’d have to say the bathroom is. I spend an awful lot of time in there,” I interject and hold up my phone. “Lots of porn to watch.”

  She smiles softly, but her eyes are still locked onto mine, as if she’s putting all the pieces of the puzzle together as she talks. It’s like watching a goddamn train wreck in slow motion. There’s nothing I can do to stop her.

  “Something else I find revealing is the contents of your library,” she forges on.

  “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to put all of my lingerie catalogs back out,” I add. “But they’re in the bathroom too.”

  Her gaze never falters, and she seems like she’s in a trance or something. Her voice is so steady and even, her eyes so intense, it’s like she’s communing with the fucking spirits or something. It’s disconcerting, to say the least.

  “Mystery readers love mysteries, political thriller readers love those – most people have a favorite writer or genre and they tend to stick with it,” she opines. “But your shelves are filled with everything – biographies, non-fiction, mysteries, fantasy, science fiction –”

  “And why does that interest you?”

  She shrugs. “It’s almost like you’re all over the place. Kind of like, you want to read everything because you want to do everything,” she says. “It’s kind of like you’ve never found your red dot.”

  I laugh heartily. “My red dot?”

  She grins and looks down at her cat. “Agatha here loves her laser pointer. Goes crazy for it. Chases that red dot around everywhere and won’t stop until she catches it, or it goes away,” she explains. “That red dot is all-consuming to her. I get the sense that you haven’t found that thing that’s all-consuming to you. That you’ve never found –”

  “I’ve never found my red dot,” I finish for her and she nods approvingly.

  Felicity is sharper than a goddamn tack. Her insights are cutting and keen, and she’s more observant than any person has a right to be. It’s uncanny – almost creepy. I can almost believe she’s got some connection to the other side and has a ghost whispering in her ear.

  “I hate to break it to you, but the books are mostly for show,” I interrupt and try to get myself back on an even keel. “I only want people to think I’m smart.”

  “That’s the thing, you don’t. You want people to think you are what I thought you were when I met you – a meathead. I know you’ve read those books, though. All of them. Some of them repeatedly. I can tell by the condition of the spines,” she smirks. “But like this cabin, what you present to the world on the outside is vastly different from what you are on the inside. And to prevent anyone from finding out about your true self, you hide it away in a cabin in the middle of nowhere or behind a hundred layers of sarcasm. And I find that very interesting.”

  “Trust me, I’m really not all that interesting.”

  “I’m not so sure about that anymore,” she whispers.

  I’ve honestly never met somebody like Felicity before. I don’t know if it’s because she’s a writer that she’s better equipped to see the truth within the lies, to be able to tear down the facades and see things simply, or what. But in the last hour, she’s been able to dissect me in ways nobody ever has. And that is freaking my ass out.

  As I look into her eyes and let my gaze drift down to those full, plump lips, then even lower, only one thought rings through my head as desire floods my body – what the fuck am I doing?

  Felicity

  We spend the next couple of hours and two bottles of wine talking. I get the sense that Knox doesn’t open up to anybody, and yet, with me he seems unguarded – or at least, less guarded. We share stories about our lives and growing up on opposite coasts. I even learn a few things about my brother I never knew before – like he was quite the womanizing party boy back in his heyday. I’m really looking forward to needling him about that.

  “You know why I didn’t like you at first?” I ask Knox.

  He grins. “Are you saying that you like me now?”

  “I may be coming around,” I tease. “Maybe.”

  “Good to know.”

  I drain the last of my wine and set the glass down on the table as Knox throws another couple of logs onto the fire. It crackles and pops loudly, a shower of sparks rocketing up the chimney. He returns and sits back down on the couch.

  “More wine?”

  I shake my head. “I think I’ve had quite enough, thanks.”

  He smiles and as those intense blue eyes of his lock onto mine, I feel a bright, white light flowing through me. As we sit there staring into each other’s eyes, I feel the connection between us growing stronger. And it brings with it a rush of emotion so thick it, threatens to pull me under. There’s some small piece inside of me that longs to feel his hands on me, to feel his
lips on mine…

  Clearing my throat, I turn away, breaking that connection before it can get out of hand. I have no idea where these thoughts are coming from. Not a day ago, I didn’t want to be anywhere near Knox. And now I find myself wanting to get closer to him. I don’t understand it at all. It scares me simply because he is wrong for me on so many levels.

  I can’t – I can’t let myself get caught up in this man.

  But then the little voice that lives in the back of my head starts to whisper. It starts to ask questions, and further cloud the issue. I mean, am I being fair in my judgment of him? In a short period of time, I’ve seen so many different layers to the man. I now know for fact that he’s not who I thought he was at a first blush.

  But that still doesn’t make him any good – or any less dangerous – for me.

  I clear my throat and push all the thoughts away as best as I can, returning to the conversation. “I didn’t like you at first because you didn’t remember me.”

  “I knew you existed. I mean, you’re Peter’s sister. How could I not remember you?”

  I shake my head. “No, you don’t remember that we’ve met once,” I explain. “When I came to New York to visit him.”

  His eyes shift to a point beyond me, as if he’s trying to dig into his memory and find me hiding in there. But I can see by the blank look on his face that he’s not having any luck with it.

  “I’m not surprised you don’t remember. You were drunk or hungover most of the time I was there,” I jab at him. “I resented you because you ruined my trip out there. My brother spent more time taking care of you than with me. So that’s why you may have picked up on my less-than-thrilled-about-you vibe.”

  “Really? Are you sure?” he feigns innocence. “That doesn’t sound like me.”

  I laugh. “It sounds exactly like you.”

  “Yeah, I guess I was kind of an asshole back then,” he admits.

  “Some might say you’re still an asshole.”

  Knox’s face brightens. “See that’s where they’re wrong. I’m not the same asshole,” he states. “I’m a totally different kind of asshole. I’ve evolved as the years have gone by.”

  I can’t stop the burst of laughter that erupts from my throat. I don’t know if it’s just all the wine we’ve consumed, but I really am enjoying my time with Knox. I’m feeling comfortable with him – far more comfortable than I probably should be. And definitely more comfortable than Maura would want me to be.

  But as I’m getting to know him, I’m starting to see that underneath all of the bluster and bravado, Knox is a good man with a good heart. I get the sense that he’s lonely. He’s shut off from the world and human connection apart from the most superficial level. Oh, he has his tight-knit group of friends, but I can tell they’re few and far between.

  I get the sense that on the most fundamental levels, Knox is alone. Even worse, he fully expects to stay that way.

  There’s a loud pop from the fire that draws my attention. I turn my head to see the sparks drift upward like a swarm of fireflies floating gently on an evening breeze. I turn back to find Knox staring intently into my eyes and feel a sudden rush of warmth flowing through me. My breath catches in my throat and my heart starts to beat faster as I see the desire in his eyes. God, he’s a beautiful man.

  Perhaps it’s the wine, the intimacy of the moment, or just a general horniness, but for maybe the first time in my life, I don’t give myself time to think – or rather, overthink. I take Ags off my lap and set her on the floor, then simply launch myself forward and press my lips to his, clasping my hands behind his neck.

  Knox’s body stiffens, and I sit back quickly, feeling an expression of sheer embarrassment and horror spreading across my face.

  Had I misread the signs? God knows it’s been forever since I’ve been involved with anybody, so it’s very possible, if not likely.

  “I – I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I th – thought that –”

  I’m running through a thousand words of explanation for him and silent recriminations for myself when I look up into his eyes. There’s a warmth in them that soothes the pain of rejection lancing into my heart. But then he surprises me.

  Knox pulls me to him and presses his mouth to mine again. His hands are in my hair, gently pulling it, and he slides his tongue into my mouth. I part my lips and allow our tongues to swirl and dance together, feeling the heat within me rising.

  He pulls my head back with one hand and kisses my neck, his other hand sliding down my back, then up again, his fingertips leaving trails of fire along my flesh. He presses his mouth to mine again, our kiss growing more urgent, more intense, and I feel myself growing wet.

  Knox pulls back, his intense blue eyes locking onto mine. I see the question in them. He’s asking me if this is okay without speaking. I open my mouth to speak but can’t find the words – any words – so I slide my hand down his broad, toned chest until I’m gripping his cock. It’s long and hard in my hand. In that moment, I want him more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. I see the fire ignite behind his eyes as I nod, giving him the green light.

  I rub and stroke him through his jeans and listen to him gasp as he kisses my neck again. His hands are tugging at my shirt, and I lift my arms so he can pull it off. He tosses it aside, his mouth planting a line of kisses along the bare flesh of my chest, his hands on my breasts, his thumbs rubbing my stiff nipples through my bra. I reach behind and unclasp my bra, tossing it aside carelessly as he leans forward.

  The moment the tip of his tongue touches my pert nipple, I feel an explosion inside of my body. I tremble, shake, and cry out as he kneads my breasts with his hands, licking and sucking on my nipples with his mouth.

  Knox pulls me onto his lap, and I immediately feel his hard cock pressed against my most intimate parts, even through our clothes. I lean down, putting every ounce of passion inside of me into my kiss as I start to rock on his lap, grinding myself against his long, thick staff. I press my forehead against his and move back and forth, reveling in the feel of him beneath me.

  I throw my head back and cry out as he takes my breast into his mouth once more. I feel his hands on my ass, his fingers pressing into my flesh through my yoga pants.

  “God, I want you so bad, Knox,” I gasp.

  In one fluid movement, he spins me down onto my back. I have my legs wrapped around his waist as he hovers above me, bracing himself on his arms, grinding his cock against the warm, wet center of me. I want these clothes off of us. I want to feel him inside of me. No – I need to feel him inside of me.

  Reaching down, I work at his belt, trying desperately to unhook it. But I’m clumsy, my fingers fumbling with the latch. Knox sits up on his knees, looking down at me, his crystalline blue eyes smoldering.

  “Be right back,” his voice is thick with desire.

  What? Be right back? Where in the hell is he going in this critical moment? He gets off the couch and dashes off, leaving me there wet and wanting, desperate to have him inside of me. He comes back a moment later and shows me the condom he’d gone to retrieve.

  “Smart,” I admit. “I wouldn’t have stopped to think about it.”

  “Well, we can’t have you showing up at your next book signing pregnant,” he laughs. “I doubt your agent would ever forgive me.”

  I laugh as he hooks his fingers in the waistband of my pants and panties. Raising my hips, Knox slips my them off my legs in one swift movement. I chuckle and shake my head.

  “Seems like you’ve had some practice at that,” I quip.

  “Nah. I’ve just got a natural gift.”

  I somehow doubt that, but I’m not going to give into my insecurities and ruin the moment. Not that I actually think the fire burning between my thighs can be extinguished by anything at this point.

  I lay there, fully exposed to a man for the first time in a very long time. Normally, I’m self-conscious, and will insist on covering myself up with something, but as I look into Knox’s eyes,
I feel a warmth and sense of confidence I don’t know I’ve ever felt before. He’s looking at me like I’m the most exquisite piece of art he’s ever seen. His gaze slides up and down my body as he drinks me in from head to toe, the look of hunger in his face growing with each passing second.

  “You are stunning, Felicity,” he murmurs softly. “You are absolute perfection.”

  I’m far from perfect, but Knox is making me feel that way. He’s making me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. I chew on my bottom lip, trying to contain the rush of emotion inside of me as I watch him take me in.

  Knox gently pulls me to the edge of the sofa and parts my thighs with his hands. I start to sit up, but he pushes me back down softly, getting down on his knees between my legs. With a sparkle in his eye and a small grin touching his lips, Knox leans forward. When I feel his tongue touch my wet, swollen lips, I cry out. The sensation of his tongue moving up and down on me is intense and makes me gasp.

  As good at that feels, when he slips his tongue inside of me, it steals my breath. I reach down and grip his hair as he presses his mouth to me, his tongue working magic within my most intimate parts. The warmth coming from the fireplace is nothing compared to the furnace he’s stoking within my body as he licks and sucks on me.

  “Yes, yes, God yes,” I cry out.

  Knox takes my clit into his mouth, sucking hard on it as he slides a finger into my pussy. He works them in time with each other, sucking on my clit at the same time he plunges deeper into me. I thrash my head from side to side, gripping his hair even tighter as I feel the pressure building inside of me.

  I look down and see his brilliant blue eyes sparkling up at me from between my thighs. There’s a mischievous gleam in them as he pleasures me that lights me up inside. The feelings he stirs in me – lust and passion – are joined by something else. Something I can’t identify – and something I don’t have time to think about right now.

  My orgasm comes crashing down on me hard and strong. It’s the most intense orgasm of my life, and my entire body tightens up as the scream erupts from my throat. My thighs lock around his head, and I’m gripping his hair even tighter as I start to shake violently, my orgasm rocking me from head to toe.