by Lexi Ryan
I swallow hard. We were pretending, but sometimes pretend leads to something more. In this case, his hand between my legs and the best orgasm I’ve had in years. I bite my lip at the memory. Damn.
Another knock. “Teagan?”
“She’s coming!” Shay calls, flashing a wicked grin at me as if she knows I was considering ignoring him.
“Seriously?” I ask. “I’m blaming you if I don’t make it back to bed this morning.”
Her grin spreads wider, and mischief dances in her eyes. “Isn’t that up to Carter?”
I let out a low growl. “Get out of here, brat.”
She takes a step toward the door then stops, pointing at me. “By the way, you might want to do something about that love bite on your neck before you leave the house.”
I throw a kitchen towel at her. “Go.”
She winks, but then her face goes serious. “Don’t break his heart, okay? I know he’s a bit of a player, but he’s sensitive under that tough-guy façade. You’re my best friend, but he’s my brother, and I’d hate to have to punch you in the babymaker.” And with that, she opens the front door and breezes out past her brother.
Carter’s brows shoot into his hairline. “Bye, sis!”
“Bye,” she says over her shoulder, already jogging away.
Carter walks through my barely there foyer to the living room. My house—which is pretty small to begin with—shrinks around us, and I swallow. I’m still half-asleep and am nearly bowled over by a surge of memory and lust as I take him in. Carter. In my house. Steps from my bed.
Oh, hell, I’m in trouble.
Teagan
Carter hasn’t shaved today, and his cheeks are scruffier than usual, making him exude even more testosterone and sex appeal than normal. His long-sleeve T-shirt is molded over his chest and shoulders, and when he shoves his hands into his pockets, his jeans dip dangerously low on his hips and expose the waistband of his boxers.
A shiver runs through me as I remember the feel of him—hands roaming, his hard body pressed against me, hot breath on my neck. Every cell between my thighs and my navel is suddenly doing its best Oliver Twist impression: “Please, sir, I want some more.”
“Is it okay that I’m here?” he asks cautiously.
Probably best to play it cool. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
He studies me for a beat before slowly shutting the door, as if he was considering leaving it open. Maybe he should so we both have an easy escape from what promises to be an awkward conversation.
“Coffee?”
“Yeah.”
I pour us each a cup from the fresh pot and doctor mine with cream, stirring thoroughly as an excuse to avoid his eyes. When I can’t delay it anymore, I cross the kitchen to the other side of the island and hand him his coffee. I still can’t look him in the eye, so I keep my gaze on his chest. Coward.
I frown at the Jackson Harbor Hospital pediatrics visitor sticker on his shirt. “Who’s in the hospital?”
He glances down, following my gaze. “Oh, shit.” He peels it off, crumples it, and tucks it into his pocket. “A . . . friend of mine was in an accident.”
“Is he okay?”
Carter pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yeah. Doped up on pain meds at the moment. Lucky as fuck, if I’m honest, but he’ll be okay.”
“Good. That’s my unit, so let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“Thanks.” He takes a breath. “What was Shay doing here?”
“You know, trying to get the scoop on what happened between us last night and threatening to do me bodily harm if I break your heart.”
He grunts. “I thought it was your brothers who were supposed to threaten me.”
“I don’t have any brothers, so I guess you lucked out.”
He shrugs, as if he wouldn’t mind, or maybe he’s distracted. He seems . . . off. “Regardless, I’m sorry she’s butting in. I’ll talk to her.”
I wave a hand. “She’s my best friend. I’d be worried if she wasn’t trying to pry the details out of me.” I wince, realizing we’ve landed right on the conversation I was hoping to put off until . . . never. “Not that I admitted anything, but the hickey you left behind probably did the confessing for me.”
He squeezes the back of his neck and grimaces. Awkwardness threatens to creep back into the room.
Now’s as good a time as any. “About last night,” I say, at the same time as he says, “I’m sorry if things moved too fast.”
I blow out a long breath. “It’s not that, Carter. It’s . . . you’re my friend.”
He takes a seat at the table. “And you’re mine. I’m not interested in changing that.” His eyes wrinkle at the corners, and he laughs, some of that uncharacteristic tension leaving his shoulders. “But if those panties are supposed to keep me from thinking about last night, I have to tell you, they’re failing spectacularly.”
When that self-assured gaze of his dips again, I remember I’m not wearing pants. Sleep must still have ahold of my brain for me to forget that quickly. I yank my robe closed and tie it tight, embarrassment licking flames up my neck and into my cheeks.
His gaze lingers below my waist for a beat, as if he can see right through the terrycloth. “Should’ve kept my mouth shut.”
“So you could stare at my crotch over coffee? That’s mature.”
“Never claimed to be.” He winks at me. “Are we really going to pretend that what happened last night could happen between two friends who aren’t attracted to each other?”
I snort. “I’m plenty attracted to you.”
“Wow.” He grins.
“What?”
“You surprised me, that’s all.”
“Come on.” I take the seat across from him. “You have enough of an ego to know you’re attractive. Enough to know I find you attractive.”
He shakes his head. “Oh, I know you do.” Cocky sonofabitch. “It’s not that. It’s just . . . I didn’t expect you to admit it.”
“What’s the point in denying it now?”
His gaze drops to my mouth, and I’m there all over again—in the office, pressed against the wall, his mouth at my ear. Would it be so bad to have a repeat performance before we have this conversation? If the damage has been done, is it much worse if I drag him into my bedroom to finish what we started before we officially declare it a mistake and say never again?
I swallow. Be strong, Teagan. “But we’re just friends. Regardless of that attraction. Last night was an anomaly and never would have happened if we hadn’t been . . . pretending.”
He scratches his stubble. “So you hadn’t thought about it before I kissed you onstage? Not once?”
“I didn’t say that. I’m saying I’m not going to think about it again.”
His grin widens. “I’m gonna call bullshit on that.”
“What? Why?”
“You’re thinking about it as much as I am. I can see it in your eyes and your pink cheeks . . .” His gaze trails over my face, and his voice softens. “And the way you’re looking at me.”
“Fine. I’m thinking about it, but that doesn’t mean I want it.”
Another smirk. “Sure. If you say so.”
I growl. “Okay, so I want to do it again.” And more. As soon as possible, please. “But that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.” I fold my arms and shoot him my best scowl. “It would be really helpful if you’d stop looking all hot and self-assured. I’m trying really hard not to let my hoo-ha call the shots right now.”
He coughs and raises a hand, one brow arched. “Can I be team hoo-ha?”
I can’t believe I just used Ellie’s favorite word for her female anatomy. My friends are a terrible influence. Or maybe I can’t think straight in Carter’s presence now that I know what it’s like to have him—
I rub my temples, trying to stop that line of thinking. “Carter, I’m serious.”
He leans back in his chair. “So am I.”
Panic starts to claw at me, like
growing points of pressure on my ribcage. What if I screwed up everything last night? What if this becomes a thing between us, and we can never go back to how we were?
My thoughts must be written all over my face, because his grin falls away. He exhales heavily and ducks his head. “Can I be completely honest with you?”
“I hope you will.”
“The whole drive from the hospital, I told myself I wanted to check on you.” He wraps his hands around his coffee and looks up at me through thick, dark lashes most women would pay a premium for. “But the second I walked in the door, I knew that wasn’t what brought me here. I want to finish what we started.”
I bite my lip and whimper. “You’re killing me.”
“And when you look at me like that, all I want to do is seduce you into ignoring your better judgment.”
That! my traitorous body cries. Yes, let’s do that!
“But I get it,” he continues. “We’re friends, and as tempting as I find you—as tempting as I’ve always found you—if adding sex to our friendship is out of the question for you, this conversation is over. I want you, but I’m not enough of an idiot to ruin this just to take you to bed.”
My brain stumbles on as tempting as I’ve always found you before landing on adding sex to our friendship. Is that an option? Does that ever work? Crap on a cracker. I’ve known Carter for four years, and I’ve never had to exert so much self-control for something as simple as not straddling his lap.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.” His voice is low, a husky rumble that bypasses my brain and speaks directly to the parts of my anatomy I’d rather exclude from this conversation.
I’m thinking I want you too. I’m thinking we could be naked and in my bed in less than sixty seconds. “I’m thinking you should leave,” I blurt, pushing the words past the other really bad ideas on the tip of my tongue.
He blinks at me, then nods as he pushes out of his chair. “Sure. I understand.”
Jumping up, I catch his arm. I can feel the heat of his skin through the cotton of his shirt sleeve. “I’ve never done this.”
His eyes go wide. “Wow. I thought . . . Seriously?”
“Not sex, you idiot. The whole friends-with-benefits thing. I’m not sure I’m made that way.”
He’s quiet for a long beat. “If you need more than that from me, Tea, I—”
I press my fingers to his lips and shake my head before he can say anything else. I’m not hoping for more. More is out of the question for me with someone like Carter. But even so, I don’t want to hear that he doesn’t want anything either. I know it’ll feel like rejection—even if that makes me a hypocrite. “I don’t want more, but I don’t know if . . .”
I drop my hand from his mouth and lift onto my toes to press my lips to his. I want to know if it’ll feel like it did last night, and the second our mouths touch, I have my answer. Electric need zips through me. I loop my arms behind his neck, planning to take the kiss deeper.
He doesn’t let me. With a hand on either of my wrists, he pulls my arms away and steps back, his eyes dark. “I’ll go. You think. If we do this, it needs to be a decision, not an accident.”
I nod and watch him leave, but I stand there for a solid five minutes, considering running after him.
Carter
I drive around for a bit after leaving Teagan’s, trying to get my thoughts in order before facing my siblings and their well-intended, overly intrusive questions. I shouldn’t be disappointed by our conversation—by her caution—not when Teagan’s being the voice of reason that could very well save our friendship. But I am. I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted anything as much as I want to prove those sexy cotton panties wrong. Can’t touch this. I’m competitive at heart, and her damn underwear was issuing a challenge I was dying to win.
Before I walked in her door and saw her in those ridiculous panties, her long legs on full display and her nipples visible through her cotton shirt, I’d had myself convinced I was only there to talk her down from her panic. I’d apologize that we got carried away and maybe laugh with her over coffee to reassure us both that nothing about our friendship was broken. But my visit with Isaiah left me raw, pulled memories too close to the surface that I prefer to keep buried deep. One look at her messy morning hair and I knew the perfect cure for my aching heart.
I still want her, consequences be damned, and her kiss today could have so easily become something more. Does she want that? Would it be a mistake?
By the time I park in front of Brayden’s, I’ve had a chance to cool off and am ready to face my family. I’m a little late, so the sound of our weekly brunch chaos meets me at the door. The clatter of dishes is the musical accompaniment to my family’s laughter and conversation.
Every Sunday, the whole Jackson crew, plus or minus a few regular guests, meets at my childhood home for brunch. Brayden lives in the old house with his fiancée, Molly, and her son, Noah. He moved in years ago, when Mom relocated to Ethan’s to help take care of my niece. At the time, none of us were ready to see Mom sell the house that holds all our childhood memories . . . and all our memories of our father. Brayden held down the fort until it was clear Mom wouldn’t be able to move back in. He officially bought it from her last summer. Legally, it might be Brayden’s, but I don’t think any of us will ever stop thinking of it as our home.
I follow my nose to the kitchen and find everyone’s beaten me here. Ethan’s feeding Nic a piece of fruit, his eyes focused on her mouth in a way that makes me look away fast. Ava and Jake are cooing over their infant daughter while Lilly bickers with Noah. Molly and Brayden are at the kitchen table, looking at spreadsheets on his laptop—workaholics getting one more fix before the meal. At the counter, Ellie and Levi are pouring mimosas and laughing together over some whispered secret. Mom is handing out plates, encouraging everyone to eat up, and Shay is monitoring the coffee.
Typical Sunday.
Most of my adult life, the sight of this place—these people—has filled me with indescribable gratitude that soothes my soul and washes away any angst from the previous week. But lately, it’s been different. Maybe because all my brothers have fallen in love, and I’ve felt a little lonely. But it’s more likely because ever since Max died, I haven’t felt like I belong here. As if I’m playing at a life I don’t deserve to be living and any minute, someone is going to yank it away.
“It’s the man of the year,” my youngest brother, Levi, says, lifting his mimosa in the air as if to toast to me.
His girlfriend, Ellie, nudges him in the side. “Don’t be a dick.”
“Language!” my niece, Lilly, scolds, sounding just like my mom.
“Thank you,” Mom tells her granddaughter.
“You’d think these boys were raised in a barn,” Lilly says, parroting another one of Mom’s favorite expressions.
Lilly’s stepmom, Nic, bites back a laugh. “That was quite a show you put on last night,” she says, studying me. Nic’s known Teagan longer than the rest of us. They went to college together, and in a roundabout way, Teagan’s the reason Nic moved here to take the job as Lilly’s nanny. If anyone knows for sure how Teagan feels about last night, it’s Nic. But by the way she’s studying me, I can tell even she is wondering how much of an act it was. Wondering what happened between us after we danced together.
I turn to Shay, and my need for caffeine must be all over my face, because she shoves a steaming mug in my hands before I can ask. This is the third pot of coffee I’ve been in contact with this morning, but I’ve yet to manage more than a few sips.
“I smelled the stuff Teagan was making,” she says. “You should teach her how to make it my way.”
“No one can make it your way,” I murmur. A groan of appreciation slips from my lips as I take my first sip. “And I mean that.”
“You were at Teagan’s this morning?” Jake asks.
“Mind your own business.” Ava scowls at him and adjusts my new niece on her hip. Five-month-old Lauren shoves her fist in her
mouth and happily gnaws on it with her gums. Long streams of slobber trail from her mouth. Lauren has a head of thick, dark hair, blue eyes, and the most adorable baby giggle I’ve heard in my life.
Jake rolls his eyes at his wife. “You want to know more than I do, so don’t give me that holier-than-thou glare.”
Shay snorts into her coffee. “We all want to know, but they’re not telling.”
Things were finally starting to get predictable around here with everyone settled down. Nic and Ethan are married, as are Jake and Ava. Levi and Ellie are living together, and Molly and Brayden are engaged and planning a spring wedding. My little display with Teagan is blood in the water, and they’re a bunch of gossip-hungry sharks.
“Come get some food,” Mom says, sliding a plate into my free hand.
“Can’t wait,” I say. I lean down and kiss her forehead.
This morning’s exchange with Teagan must have worked magic, because I feel hungry for once. I spoon eggs and bacon on my plate and follow everyone to the dining room, taking a seat between Shay and Lilly.
I’ve spent enough time with Dr. Google to know my lack of appetite is one of the many symptoms of survivor guilt. Knowing the cause doesn’t make it any easier to chew and swallow when everything tastes like ash on my tongue and turns to lead in my stomach. The month after they pulled the plug on Max’s vent, I lost fifteen pounds, and I could see the worry in everyone’s eyes when they looked at me. I’ve managed to hold steady since, but not without a struggle.
“It’s like we’re not even here,” Shay says, and I snap my head up and realize everyone’s staring at me.
Did someone ask a question? I was lost in my thoughts. I’ve been working on that too, and getting better lately. Seeing Isaiah this morning drew me into a bad place.
And flirting with Teagan pulled you out of it.
“I asked how Teagan is this morning,” Mom says. “You two made a very handsome couple last night.” Of course. Because the expected conversation wouldn’t be awkward enough without my mother chiming in.
