Satisfaction

by Piper Lawson

  The direct admission had me blinking. “Well…What happened?”

  Kent closed the distance between us. His hair fell across his forehead and I ignored the impulse to brush it out of the way. “We’re friends, Dal. There’s clearly something between us, but I want to be there for you. That means too much to me to screw up over something impulsive.”

  I shake my head. “So which is it? You want to be there for me or you want to kiss me?”

  He rubbed a hand over his face, tension coming off him in waves. “Both. I needed you so much. It freaked me out.” His low voice sent ripples down my spine.

  The room felt too small. I couldn’t breathe. “Then why did you leave?”

  Kent’s face filled with contrition. “Because need is careless. And I won’t be careless with you.”

  His words stole my breath, squeezed the air from my chest.

  I closed the last of the distance between us. Gave into the temptation to brush the hair from his face.

  “I can take care of me,” I whispered. “I’m kind of a badass.”

  Kent’s face split into a grin. “Really.”

  “Uh-huh.” I nodded. “And last night—right up until the part where you bailed—that was pretty sexy.”

  “It was,” he agreed. “I’ve never had a girl get herself off in front of me before I’d even kissed her.”

  “What!” I shoved at his chest, his hard body not giving an inch. “You were the one saying how normal…”

  My thoughts ended as quickly as my words.

  If my lips hadn’t been opening the second Kent’s came down on mine, I swear he would’ve forced them apart.

  His hands found my waist, fingers digging into the bare skin under the edge of my top. Electricity raced down my spine, heat blooming between my thighs.

  He pinned me against the door with his body, his fingers shoving in my hair.

  This Kent was demanding, need barely leashed as his hands streaked beneath my shirt. I panted against his mouth.

  My breasts ached as I strained toward him, needing the friction of his body.

  I hadn’t known it was possible to kiss like this, like a storm taking me over. His impatient knee wedged between my thighs.

  “I need you, Dal.” The simple words had me squeezing around him, feeling empty and desperate at once.

  “I’m yours.”

  On a groan, he yanked my shirt over my head, our greedy mouths parting long enough to pass it between us.

  The first rush of cool air over my skin, the feel of his hard chest on the tops of my boobs through the thin T-shirt, transformed something in me. Like I’d been watching from the sidelines, unsure of myself, of us. Waiting for just the right moment to catch fire.

  Now, I had.

  He yanked his shirt over his head and the touch of his warm, hard body skin-to-skin on mine had me losing my mind. My fingers raced over his hot skin, worshipping every muscle that leaped beneath my hands.

  His fingers slid inside the cup of my bra, squeezing and stroking, and my nails dug into the back of his neck.

  “Jeez that feels good,” I mumbled.

  He laughed, warm and dark, and his mouth traced a hot path down my jaw to my collarbone. His fingers flicked the clasp of my bra open, and then his mouth was on my chest, his thumbs stroking the already-hard tips into tight peaks.

  I moaned as his mouth stole the last of my sanity. His touch, his lips, his tongue, stroked me into a fever.

  “Please,” I said as I ground my hips against his growing hardness.

  His lips moved down my stomach, making me arch into his kiss as it traveled down my abs, my navel, to the button on my tailored shorts.

  “What happened to my choir boy?” I panted.

  His gaze lifted to mine, and I lost my breath completely at the wicked look in his eyes. “He grew up.”

  His fingers worked the button and zipper on my shorts, and they were shoved down my legs. He stared at the juncture of my thighs, my pink panties, like they contained some mystery.

  “I’ve wanted this so damned much,” he murmured. Kent hooked a finger in the top of the fabric. “To see you, to taste you.”

  I watched, unable to look away. “Ah, are you sure?”

  “About what. Going down on you? Hell yes. It’s all I can think about.”

  Holy, that’s hot.

  It should’ve been embarrassing but when he tugged the fabric down and the cool air hit me, all I could do was tremble.

  Not because I was afraid of what he was going to think, or even do.

  Because I was afraid of how I’d feel if he didn’t go through with it.

  In the end I barely had time to react before he buried that mouth between my thighs.

  The first touch of his tongue, a stroke that seemed longer than physically possible, had my head falling back against the door.

  He continued to lick me, a finger joining his tongue. Nothing on earth could’ve stopped the moan that rolled out of me.

  He tugged my shorts off my foot, hitching my leg over his shoulder to give him better access. “Ever since we went for ice cream, I’ve been picturing you melting on my tongue.”

  Those words set me on fire. He moved my body like it was his, and it might as well have been considering he knew what to do with it.

  I was a mess. A desperate, writhing, sweaty mess. The room was full of boxes of summer stock and I didn’t care one bit. Each twist of his fingers sent me higher, spiraling impossibly tighter to some peak.

  When I thought I was going to fall over, he moved back up my body. His gaze was liquid heat. “Don’t come yet.”

  “What?” I mumbled. “Why not?”

  “Because I want to be there when you do.” Kent’s mouth came down on mine and I kissed him as his body slammed into mine again.

  My fingers worked at the waist of his jeans. I reached inside, wrapping my fingers around the hard length that’d had me curious for days.

  I’m pretty sure my jaw hit the floor.

  He was big. I hadn’t compared dozens of guys or anything, but I was pretty sure this would be more intense than any other guy I’d been with.

  My thumb stroked clumsily over the head of him, eliciting a dark sound from his throat.

  His low laugh rumbled through the room. “You’re killing me.”

  The sound of a package tearing was the only noise besides our gasping breaths.

  I shoved his jeans and shorts down. When his hard length brushed between my legs, I pressed against him, needing him inside me. I didn’t know how we were going to swing it, but at this point, I’d die trying.

  He brushed my slick skin once, twice. My eyes closed at the feel of him as my fingers dug into his arms. But it was him that groaned, pressing inside.

  The first inches of him had my mouth falling open. He filled me, completely.

  I glanced down, my eyes widening when I realized, “There’s more?”

  Kent chuckled against my ear, and my dazed smile felt like it belonged to another person when he rocked against me, inching deeper with each thrust.

  Just when I thought he might split me in two, he paused, waiting for me to adjust.

  “Stop that,” he murmured.

  “Stop what?” I wasn’t doing anything.

  But I felt my muscles clenched around him, and he groaned. “Jesus you feel good.”

  The discomfort was giving way every second to a kind of pressure that was a strange combination of wrong and right at once.

  At least until he started to move.

  But when he pulled back, I ached for him to fill me again. And when he filled me, I welcomed him deeper.

  It was unreal.

  My back pressed against the chipped wall, but every part of me was focused on where we were joined. The sparks of sensation from his lips, caressing my cheek, my jaw. His teeth, dragging across my neck. My nails dug into his back through his shirt, making him drive harder into me.

  “Yes.” I said it over and over.

 
; A noise sounded from outside. Kent reached over to flick the lock on the door. His efficiency was sexy as hell.

  In a few strokes we built each other up until we were breathing each other’s skin, gasping for breath. It was raw and animalistic and sweet at once. I’d never been wanted like this. Never wanted it.

  He shifted the angle, hitting me in a new spot that had stars forming behind my eyes.

  “Tell me,” he murmured. “When you’re going to come apart, I want to know.”

  “Now,” I panted. “Oh God, now.”

  With a grunt he buried his lips in my neck, thrusting again and again like he wanted so deep inside me he might come out the other side.

  I came apart in his hands, the explosion starting somewhere deep in my spine I’d never been aware of before. It radiated out in waves, concentric circles like ripples in some violent pond. I rode out the pleasure until there was only the last of the stars behind my eyelids.

  Sometime later, I drew in a breath.

  I blinked my eyes open, staring up at one of our shelving units from the floor.

  Every part of me ached. Even my back, and… I shifted, pulling out my shoe from underneath me and collapsing back on the ground.

  “Wow,” I mumbled, brushing a chunk of hair out of my face. “I guess what I said to Mac last weekend wasn’t entirely wrong. There was definitely rocking.”

  Kent’s low laugh sent new shivers across my bare skin. “Storage room isn’t the best place to get naked. But it works.” He propped himself up on his arms, the same ones that’d been holding me up, flexed as his body tormented mine. The tension was gone from his blue-green eyes, like the sea after a storm. He rubbed a hand over his chin, making the bracelet at his wrist move. His mouth—the one that’d been on me everywhere—curved in a smile.

  My heart kicked in my chest. Not softly, like when you spot a cute puppy.

  Hard.

  That was what I’d wanted. To feel something real.

  But in this moment I got it, how easily I could be swept away by him. Taken over by him.

  I felt hot. And thrilled.

  And more than a little terrified.

  Even before the boyish grin slowly disappeared from Kent’s face and he said, “Dal, I need to tell you something.”

  11

  Kent

  My body felt like I’d spent the day working on a board. The muscles of my chest, back, and arms ached but I hardly noticed.

  All I saw was Dal’s face, flushed, her hair escaping its braid as she lay on the floor. Her skin was fucking fascinating. Not tanned but shining, lush. I wanted to put my hands, my mouth, on every inch of her.

  I could still taste her as I swallowed, steadying myself.

  “I think I’m falling for you.”

  I’d been thinking of the right words to say to her but now, those felt the most true. And she deserved a million things, but more than all of them, she deserved the truth.

  But instead of her eyes lighting up, her face shuttered.

  “Dal. Did you hear what I said?”

  “Yes. I… thank you.”

  She scrambled up first, and by the time I followed, she was already tugging her shorts on.

  I reached for my own clothes.

  I hadn’t planned on this. I’d wanted to show up and prove that I could be there for her. But once I’d got here, I couldn’t help myself.

  I wanted to do it again. Somewhere private.

  With sheets and walls. No boxes, no flyers. Where I didn’t have to swallow her sounds. Where I could tell her how much it meant to me.

  Because now that we were here, I could admit it…

  I wanted this. I wanted her.

  Cold washed over me as she tugged down her shirt and smoothed the edges.

  She looked as tidy as she’d been before. Only the flush of her cheeks, the way her hair had tugged out to curl in wisps around her face, told a different story.

  “That’s not what you say when someone tells you they have feelings for you.” Despite the lightness in my voice, inside, I was strung tight.

  “What am I supposed to say?” she asked. “It was amazing. I’ve never…no one’s ever made me feel like that. But what does that even mean? You’re going back to San Diego this weekend—” her gaze challenged me to disagree “—and then what? Even if we’re both up for trying to be something, my last boyfriend was the absentee kind. It didn’t end well.” She twisted her hair up in one hand, her mouth pursing. “Dammit. Where did that elastic go?”

  My chest compacted, each breath harder than the last. “Dal, come on. Don’t compare me to that asshole, and don’t run from me.”

  She found the elastic on the floor, looping it around her hair before straightening. The vulnerability on her face made her look even younger. “I’m not. I’m standing here and telling you that you have this ability to be exactly what I need. That I love how I feel around you. And that scares me. Because it’s not like playing flute in front of an audience, or falling in a plastic dress. It’s not humiliation I’m afraid of. It’s more than that.

  “Last night you left me. Now you want to stay.” Dal reached for the door, unlocking it as frustration rose inside me. “I can’t wait around guessing what you’ll want tomorrow. Because if the answer isn’t me…” she sucked in a shallow breath, “…that’s going to suck, Kent. More than I can handle right now.”

  Pain stabbed through my gut, both at the fact that she was afraid of that and that she believed I’d change my mind.

  I hadn’t left because I wasn’t sure I wanted her. It was because I wasn’t sure I was ready to break every rule I’d made for both our protection in order to be with her.

  Now, I knew that I would.

  The kicker was I was too late. I’d missed whatever window of opportunity I’d had with this girl.

  Or maybe there never was one to begin with.

  She opened the door, her fingers lingering on the handle.

  I cleared my throat, grimacing against the pain in my chest. “I’ll take my boards back tomorrow.”

  Dal nodded, slow. Then reached for the edge of her shorts. “Will I see you before you go?”

  I started to go through the door, then stopped partway. “Saturday’s finals. You know where to find me.”

  Her expression crumpled, and for a second I wanted to kiss the misery off her face.

  I thought about the pictures of my boards in the store, her advice to think long-term. The way she owned everything she did like her life depended on it.

  How long would it take before she realized everything she wanted, she already was?

  I stepped into her, cupping her neck carefully so as not to disturb her hair, and dropped my lips to her temple before she could stop me. “I’d say good luck. But you don’t need it, Supergirl.”

  12

  Dal

  I never could sleep the night before a big day.

  The interview with Modern Style would either establish my role as a legit member of Team T, or ensure that my career with this company, with the women I looked up to, ended now.

  I wished that was the only cause of my knotted stomach.

  The afternoon in the storage room had been an unreal blur of sweat and want and…goodness I’d never felt. Everywhere Kent touched me, I lit up. Every new glimpse of his body had me craving more. The way he touched me—hell, the way he moved into me, over me—was the hottest thing I’d ever experienced. I didn’t know what it was to be wanted like that.

  The craziest part wasn’t what he’d done, it was what he said.

  I’m falling for you.

  Kent cared about me, I could see it on his face.

  It should have been reassuring, but it was terrifying. I’d frozen.

  The way I felt about him hadn’t coalesced into something I could name. Instead it floated around my chest, filling the space like a thousand glycerin bubbles, shimmering and expanding but still fragile enough that I could pop them in my hands.

  Watching him leave
yesterday had hurt as much as anything Chris had said or done to me.

  No, as much as anything, ever.

  That was the only thought that kept me from going after Kent. The knowledge that even as he made me stronger, he made me more fragile too.

  This morning I got up, dressed carefully in a teal blue blouse and black skirt, and left the apartment before Mac woke up.

  When the bell over the door dinged, I straightened.

  Janice James was older than me, with red lipstick and a professional West Coast uniform of linen pants and a sleeveless top.

  I smoothed down my outfit, then rounded the cash register and extended a hand.

  “Hi, Janice. I’m—”

  “Dahlia. Odd name.” she asked.

  “Ah. I have somewhere for us to talk.” I led her upstairs to one of the catwalks where we’d styled mannequins with surfboards. She took in the two chairs arranged to face one another and overlook the store.

  I’d made some notes, and I folded them in my hands, trying to calm the nerves as she set her tape recorder on the table between us.

  “I’ll start with easy questions.” Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Four out of five fashion startups go out of business in the first ten years. What makes you think Travesty’s any different?”

  That was the easy one?

  I grasped for an answer. “Travesty has a unique take on fashion. The owners believe—”

  “I don’t want to hear what the owners believe.” Her sharp tone had my stomach turning. “I confirmed this interview months ago, and not one of the three of them are here. For whatever reason, you are here. So let’s hear from you.”

  I shifted in my chair, willing my hands to stop sweating. “Instead of spending all their time looking for the latest trend, they—we—look to everyday things for inspiration. How twenty-something women spend their time. We make pieces women can live in.”

  “You think our readers want corporate boilerplate? This isn’t an ad. It’s a waste of time.”

  She shoved out of her chair and started down the stairs.

  The panic that came over me was a different kind.

  Carpe diem.