by Whitley Cox
He went to open his mouth to tell her, but she quieted him with her lips—and tongue. “I don’t want to know.” She murmured, climbing up on to the bed and straddling him. “If I wanted to know, I would have asked.” She sat up on her knees over his waist and waited for him to push the covers down, his fingers having to slide out of her bra to do so.
As she waited, she unclasped her bra and tossed it back to the floor.
Once he freed his cock, he reached into his nightstand, grabbed a condom, tore open the wrapper and went to slide it on.
Richelle took it from him. “I’ll do it.”
“Yeah, baby,” he breathed, loving the way she took him so confidently in her delicate fist, and rolled the condom down to the base, pinching the top like a pro.
She sat up on her knees and inched forward until he was perfectly lined up with her sweet pussy. A pussy he had never grown tired of. Would never grow tired of. For three years he and Richelle had fucked nearly every Wednesday, and for three years, he looked forward to it every fucking time. But it wasn’t just the tight, wet heat that fit him like a glove that he was incapable of growing bored with, it was also the woman. She challenged him, made him laugh, made him think, and, boy oh boy, did she know how to make him come.
***
The harsh pants of her breath that drifted across his cheek began to settle, and her nails released their death grip on his ass as he lifted his head.
She had that gloriously gorgeous just-fucked look about her. Bright eyes, rosy cheeks, wild spiky hair.
“I wish I could stay inside you all fucking day,” he said nuzzling his nose against hers. “Should we call in hooky? I’m sure one of your associates could run the deposition.”
The small placid smile on her face faded and her eyes turned serious. She pushed him away, and he slid out and off her, wandering to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. She wandered into the bathroom as well, and sat down to pee.
Once he’d washed up, he left her to do her thing and headed back into his room to begin making the bed.
“Why do you have to ruin things by trying to make us more than what we are?” she asked, coming out of the bathroom and proceeding to get dressed. She shimmied into her jeans after she’d stepped into her G-string. “What we have works. It’s worked for three fucking years. Are you wanting more now because all your single dad friends have found love?” The way she said love was how she always said love. With as much belief in the world as Liam had for the Easter Bunny or Santa Claus.
Liam rolled his eyes. He hadn’t bothered to put on underwear or anything. He was going to jump into the shower. After making the bed, he wandered back into the bathroom and began brushing his teeth. Leaning against the doorjamb lazily, he watched her continue to get dressed. “Jesus fuck, woman, relax. I’m not asking you to move in or get my name tattooed on your left tit, I’m just saying, wouldn’t it be nice to have more than twelve hours together?”
“More than twelve hours a week turns this into more than what this is,” she said, fastening her bra again.
“And this is?”
The look she gave him in the mirror was that of a seriously impatient and pissed off woman. “You know what this is, Liam Dixon. You’ve known what this is for three fucking years. It’s a friends with benefits situation that works for the both of us. We have a weekly fuck fest with no strings, no emotions, no expectations. Just lots of orgasms.”
“And you’ve never thought about turning it into more?” he asked over his toothbrush.
The look Richelle was giving him spoke of surmounting impatience, and the scoff that accompanied that look said she’d reached her threshold. “I don’t have time to turn it into more. And neither do you. We’re both busy lawyers with children. You have your son, and I’m entering the exciting world of being the mother to a moody, hormonal teenager. Being Mallory’s mother is a full-time job. And I already have a full-time fucking job.”
Up until recently he hadn’t thought about turning it into more either. But after watching each one of his friends fall in love and find their happiness over the past two years, he was beginning to think maybe having a woman who was more than just a fuck buddy wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
Maybe.
Particularly Atlas. The last guy to fall and Liam’s best friend. He’d been the surliest, angriest widower Liam had ever met. And now the man was fucking smiling—and Tessa and her love had done that. They’d brought Atlas out of the dark and back into the light.
At the last big group barbecue, where all his fellow single dads stood with their arms around their women, with their children off playing together happily, he caught himself more than once thinking how well Richelle would fit in with all the other women in their growing extended family. She already knew Tessa and Eva. And Richelle never spoke of any friends she met with outside of work. Did she have any female friends? Did she have any friends period?
“You’re thinking awfully hard for someone so pretty,” she said, tossing her purse over her shoulder. She was completely dressed now in a pair of skin tight dark wash jeans, a billowy baby blue tank top and a pair of flip flops that showed off her sexy pedicured toes with the rings on them.
He turned to spit into the sink, rinsed and then faced her again. “If this is all you want, then that’s fine. I just want to be with you.”
Fear and anger flashed behind her eyes and her nostrils flared. “How do you even know you’re the only person I’m sleeping with? We said from the get-go this was not exclusive. Hence why we still use condoms, right?”
Well, that struck his hard him between the ribs like she intended. He also knew when she got defensive it was because she was scared. He knew her better than she thought he did.
“I haven’t kissed, fucked or held hands with another woman since the first night you came over for Thai food and tied me to my own bed.” He let his lips curl into a small, hopeful smile. One he hoped disarmed her just a little.
No such luck.
“Well, goody for you,” she said with a sneer. “I have to go.”
He never wanted to ask her if she’d slept with anyone else, because up until recently, he hadn’t cared—all that much—they had made an agreement not to be exclusive. Though he couldn’t imagine sleeping with anyone else once he started sleeping with Richelle. He was a one-woman man when he committed, always had been. And their arrangement had been a type of commitment, even if it wasn’t traditional.
“Can you say the same?” he asked, following her out of his bedroom and through his house toward the front door. The slap slap of her flip flops on his concrete floor sent an echo through his large Lake Washington home.
“Can I say the same about what?” she asked with a huff of impatience, spinning on her heel to glare at him.
The way the sun shone in through his enormous dining room window and fell across her face made her look more angelic than he knew her to be. Her hair was practically white the way it glowed, and the amber in her eyes looked more like spun gold. She really was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life. Even angry like she was now, she was hot as fuck.
“Can you say that you haven’t slept with anyone else since we started seeing each other?” Fear of her answer spun in his gut in a way that unsettled him to the point of nausea. He was also still naked, and the cold concrete floor sent a harsh shiver sprinting up his spine and down again, landing firmly in his balls.
Richelle’s lips pinned together as her gaze slid up his body from his feet to his face. Her eyes became laser focused on his. She still hadn’t said anything.
All he got was the slight lift of her eyebrow.
And that’s when he knew she wouldn’t say anything.
She didn’t have to.
He sucked in a deep breath and nodded. “All right then. I have my answer.”
“You do,” she said flatly. “I have to fly to San Diego Tuesday for a meeting next week. I’ll be back late Wednesday night, but I’ll come by once my fli
ght gets in.”
Phew. At least he hadn’t scared her away. “Need me to pick you up from the airport?” Oh fuck, now he sounded like a needy bastard. All the happiness, love and bullshit surrounding his friends was starting to fuck with his head.
She hit him with another eyebrow lift, but this time it was accompanied by a lip lift on the opposite side of her face. “I’m going to leave my car at the airport, but thanks for the offer.”
Then she did something she’d never done before, with the door open and her car parked in his driveway shining bright red and just waiting for her to drop the soft top, she leaned in and put her hand on his chest. “Thanks, Liam.” She pressed her lips to his, chaste-like, but it was still a kiss.
He wanted nothing more than to shove his fingers into her hair and either drag her back to his bedroom, push her head until she was on her knees, or bend her over the hood of her car. But he didn’t do any of the above. He simply honked her boob and kissed her back just as lightly.
“Anytime, babe,” he said, going for easy and carefree, even though inside, his brains were all suddenly fucked up.
There went that eyebrow of hers again. “Don’t overthink things, okay? What we have works. What we have is good. Really good. If it’s not broke, don’t fix it, right?”
She shot him a wink before she turned to go, sashaying that ass she worked hard at the gym to keep tight over to her car. It chirped and she opened the door.
“Maybe go online and order us some new to try,” she called out. “Haven’t dressed up in a bit. It’s summer, maybe camp counselor and camper?”
“Are you trying to get me to fulfill your Johnny Castle fantasy?” he asked, still naked and leaning against the doorjamb of his front door. His gravel driveway was long and his yard and front door protected from view by an enormous hedge. If he wasn’t worried about a sunburn on his family jewels he’d be inclined to mow his lawn in the nude.
“Nobody puts Baby in a corner,” she said, turning on her Mustang and revving the engine as the soft top retracted above her. He loved the rumble of sexy V8. And the fact that an even sexier woman sat behind the wheel of that engine made his cock stir and his blood start pumping.
“Nobody could ever put you in the corner, sweetheart. I’d like to seem them try.”
A weird look flitted into her eyes, and at first he thought it was just the glint of the sun, but when her smile dropped and her eyes turned hard, he realized there was more to it. What had he said to make the playful Richelle vanish so instantly?
“You okay?” he called out, having to raise his voice over the purr of her beast.
She nodded and smiled back. “Yep. Just peachy.” She blew him a kiss, waved, backed out of his driveway, and out of his life for another week, even though the more Liam thought about it, the more he no longer wanted to wait a week to see her anymore. The more he no longer wanted to watch her back out and away. He wasn’t sure he was on board with the whole living together and marriage thing like his friends, but he was certainly tired of the emotionless, casual weekly twelve-hour fuck fest Richelle seemed so hell-bent on maintaining. He was forty-one years old. A successful lawyer in the city of Seattle and a devoted father. He had his shit together in a neat little pile. Maybe he was ready to share his shit pile with someone else, and in return share her shit pile with her. Or even consider combining their shit piles into one larger, but still manageable shit pile.
Many hands make light work, right?
Did the same go for shit piles?
He scratched his balls and closed his front door.
First things first though. He needed to have a shower, get dressed and then online shop for some Dirty Dancing role-play costumes. But as he reluctantly scrubbed off the scent of the woman he’d spent the night with from his body, the more he wondered how many other men she role-played with. How many other men she saw during the week and what kinky things they got up to? Kinkier than what she did with Liam?
Or, maybe, was he the only person she was sleeping with and she simply didn’t answer his question in order to keep him at arm’s length? That or was she legitimately taking their non-exclusivity agreement seriously. He was beginning to get a headache.
“If it’s not broke, don’t fix it,” he muttered, her words echoing over and over in his mind as he got out of the shower and dried himself with a towel.
Some might call him broken.
Could he be fixed?
Was Richelle the woman to heal the hole in his heart left by his exes, or would she just be the woman to not only create another hole in his heart, but break it completely?
If You’ve Enjoyed This Book
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Thank you again.
Xoxo
Whitley Cox
Acknowledgments
There are so many people to thank who help along the way. Publishing a book is definitely not a solo mission, that’s for sure. First and foremost, my friend and editor Chris Kridler, you are a blessing, a gem and an all-around terrific person. Thank you for your honesty and hard work.
Thank you, to my critique groups gals, Danielle and Jillian. I love our meetups where we give honest feedback and just bitch about life. You two are my bitch-sisters and I wouldn’t give you up for anything.
Andi Babcock for her beta-read, I always appreciate your attention to detail and comments.
Kathleen Lawless for helping me dig deep with Atlas and take him to that dark place—you know your way around a black moment and a broody alpha.
Author Jeanne St. James, my alpha reader and sister from another mister, what would I do without you?
Megan J. Parker-Squiers from EmCat Designs, your covers are awesome. Thank you.
My street team, Whitley Cox’s Curiously Kinky Reviewers, you are all awesome and I feel so blessed to have found such wonderful fans.
The ladies of Vancouver Island Romance Authors, your support and insight have been incredibly helpful, and I’m so honored to be a part of a group of such talented writers.
Author Cora Seton for your help, tweaks and suggestions for my blurbs, as always, they come back from you so sparkly. I also love our walks, talks and heart-to-hearts, they mean so much to me.
Authors Kathleen Lawless, Nancy Warren and Jane Wallace, I love our writing meetups. Wine, good food and friendship always make the words flow.
Author Ember Leigh, my newest author bestie, I love our bitch fests—they keep me sane.
My parents, in-laws and brother, thank you for your unwavering support.
The Small Human and the Tiny Human, you are the beats and beasts of my heart, the reason I breathe and the reason I drink. I love you both to infinity and beyond.
And lastly, of course, the husband. You are my forever. I love you.
Also by Whitley Cox
Love, Passion and Power: Part 1
The Dark and Damaged Hearts Series Book 1
Love, Passion and Power: Part 2
The Dark and Damaged Hearts Series Book 2
Sex, Heat and Hunger: Part 1
The Dark and Damaged Hearts Book 3
Sex, Heat and Hunger: Part 2
The Dark and Damaged Hearts Book 4
Hot and Filthy: The Honeymoon
The Dark and Damaged Hearts Book 4.5
True, Deep and Forever: Part 1
The Dark and Damaged Hearts Book 5
True, Deep and Forever: Part 2
The Dark and Damaged Hearts Book 6
Hard, Fast and Madly: Part 1
The Dark and Damaged Hearts Series Book 7
Hard, Fast and Madly: Part 2
The Dark and Damaged Hearts Series Book 8
Quick & Dirty
Book 1, A Quick Billionaires Novel
Quick & Easy
Book 2, A Quick Billionaires Novella
Quick & Reckless
Book 3, A Quick Billionaires Novel
Hot Dad
Lust Abroad
Snowed In & Set Up
Quick & Dangerous
Book 4, A Quick Billionaires Novel
Hired by the Single Dad
The Single Dads of Seattle, Book 1
Dancing with the Single Dad
The Single Dads of Seattle, Book 2
Saved by the Single Dad
The Single Dads of Seattle, Book 3
Living with the Single Dad
The Single Dads of Seattle, Book 4
Christmas with the Single Dad
The Single Dads of Seattle, Book 5
New Years with the Single Dad
The Single Dads of Seattle, Book 6
Valentine’s with the Single Dad
The Single Dads of Seattle, Book 7
Neighbours with the Single Dad
The Single Dads of Seattle, Book 8
Flirting with the Single Dad
The Single Dads of Seattle, Book 9
Upcoming
Falling for the Single Dad
The Single Dads of Seattle, Book 10
Lost Hart
The Harty Boys Book 2
About the Author
A Canadian West Coast baby born and raised, Whitley is married to her high school sweetheart, and together they have two beautiful daughters and a fluffy dog. She spends her days making food that gets thrown on the floor, vacuuming Cheerios out from under the couch and making sure that the dog food doesn't end up in the air conditioner. But when nap time comes, and it's not quite wine o'clock, Whitley sits down, avoids the pile of laundry on the couch, and writes.
