The Shacking Up Series

by Helena Hunting

  “I can’t get you out of my head,” she says softly, eyes brimming with conflicted emotion.

  I don’t know what the message is that she’s trying to convey. Keep pushing? Don’t push? “Do you want me out of your head?”

  Her teeth press into her lip. She doesn’t nod.

  “So then stop trying.”

  “I should really get back to work.” The waver in her voice is telling. She wants to leave but she can’t. And I’m enough of an asshole to make it even harder to walk away from me.

  “How far is work?”

  “A couple of blocks.”

  “I’ll have my car come get us.” I pick up my phone and fire off a message.

  “I can walk that distance faster than a car can drive it.”

  “I know.”

  “Lex.” Her breathing is shallow, quick.

  “He’s around the corner, he’ll be here in less than two minutes.”

  She hesitates for a second, then gathers her things, hands trembling as she shoves file folders in her bag. I help her into her coat, fingers grazing the back of her neck. She makes a soft noise and leans into the touch, and then we’re out the door, stepping into the cold New York afternoon. The car doesn’t even come to a full stop in front of the café before I wrench the door open, motioning for Amie to get in.

  “Where’s your office?” I ask as she slides across the seat to make room for me.

  She murmurs the address and I bark it to the driver, hitting the button for privacy.

  The divider isn’t even fully closed before I’m on her, lips crashing together, teeth clashing. She grabs the back of my neck and moans into my mouth. I mirror the sound, hands roaming her curves through her clothes.

  Mouths still connected, she yanks down the zipper on her skirt and shimmies out of it. She’s wearing thigh highs and pale lace panties. “Don’t want to go back to work a wrinkled mess.” She straddles me, fighting with the buttons on my suit jacket because her hands are shaking so much.

  I cover them with one of mine. “Are you sure you want to do this?” What the fuck?

  “Why ask now?” she snaps.

  “I don’t want you to regret me again.”

  “I didn’t regret you in the first place.” She gets to work on my belt, freeing the clasp, and popping the button on my pants, pulling down the zipper. Her soft, warm hand wraps around my cock and we both groan. “I can’t wait to feel you in me again. Why do you have to be so good at fucking me?” She’s almost angry, a lamented sound falls from her lips as she strokes me. “Get a condom.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I lift my hips and dig around for my wallet.

  She snatches it from me, flipping it open. She pauses for a second, her gaze suddenly hard as she retrieves the foil square. “Have you fucked anyone else?”

  I shake my head.

  “Good.” She tears the wrapper.

  “You?”

  “No.”

  I cup her through her panties and she arches into the touch. When I try to get under the lace and satin, she pushes my hand out of the way. “You don’t want my fingers first?”

  “I just want you.”

  “You sure? You’re gonna be sore.” I know this because we’d done it before in Bora Bora and it slowed us down for about twenty-four hours. In the days after she left, I kept going back to that night in particular, thinking about how I would’ve done things differently so I could’ve had more of her.

  “Good. I want to feel you into next week.” She uses the head of my cock to push her panties to the side and drops down without any warning.

  Her mouth falls open, her shocked gasp a good indicator that some prep would’ve been a better idea. But Christ, does it ever feel good to be inside her again. She grabs my chin, her nails digging into my jaw, lips brushing over mine. “This. You. I can’t.” She bites my bottom lip, fingertip sliding over the tender flesh after she releases it from her teeth.

  “You can’t what?”

  “Stop. I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.” Her tongue is in my mouth, hips circling hard, keeping me deep. “Fuck me. Please.”

  I grab her hips and lift her, thrusting up as I drop her back down, sheathing myself in her. Her moan is loud, pained even.

  I stop, uncertain how to read the tension in her body. This is different than what I know of her. This isn’t like Bora Bora. “Amie.”

  She pulls back, eyes blazing, but her words are a plea. “We don’t have a lot of time. Fuck me.”

  She lifts until only the head is still inside. I hold her hips, pulling her onto me as she drops. “Like that?”

  “Harder.”

  I do it again.

  “Faster.”

  And again.

  “More.”

  I want this to last. I want it to go on for hours. I want to take her back to my place and get her naked, keep her that way until tomorrow morning. I want coffee and breakfast, I want to watch her get dressed, I want to kiss her as she walks out my door, but all we have are two blocks.

  She rides me hard, meeting each thrust, slamming down on me until her mouth falls open and she buries her face against my chest. I can feel her teeth through my suit. The tremor that runs through her body is violent, fabric muffling the sound of her orgasm.

  I keep pumping, chasing my release, the feel of her clenching around me pushes me closer to the edge. And then I’m coming, blindingly hard, my rhythm falters, erratic and strained until I still. Amie nuzzles into my neck, breath evening out. I wrap my arms around her, holding her against me, feeling the chasm growing between us even though we’re still connected physically. I’m suddenly exhausted. All this waiting and all I get are five frantic minutes in the back of a car.

  We come to a stop and the intercom buzzes. “We’ve arrived, sir.”

  I hold her tighter. Our stolen time is about to disappear, and there’s nothing I can do to keep her.

  Amie braces on my shoulders and lifts off. She can’t look at me as she adjusts her panties and shimmies back into her skirt, tucking in her blouse and shrugging into her coat almost as quickly as she took it off in the first place. Her hair falls forward, covering her face, palms smoothing down her thighs, nails pressing against her knees. I settle a hand on her back and she shivers.

  “Amie.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  She shakes her head. “Thank you for the ride.” Her breath hitches, her laugh sounds like a sob. “That was . . . I have to go. I need to go.” She grabs her bag and opens the door.

  She’s gone before I can say anything else. And really, what can I say? I’m not supposed to have her beyond this even if I want her.

  And I do.

  I can still taste her. I can still smell her. I can still feel her even though she’s gone. Again.

  Nineteen: New News

  Amie

  Life returns to normal in the month that follows car sex with Lex. Well, as normal as it can be with an estranged husband who still refuses to sign the goddamn annulment papers because he’s an egomaniac. Aside from that one small, annoying glitch, I’m managing fine.

  Okay. That’s not 100 percent accurate. My job is good, great even. We’ve started a new series of tutorials that are similar to the ones I made with my mom a few years ago. Not only are they getting great traction for Williams Media, but I’ve also been put in charge of a fundraising event. I’m less than two months in and they’re already talking about giving me a raise and a promotion.

  Aside from Ruby, yoga is my best friend, as is Pilates, spin class, and the new self-defense course I’m taking. The post-wedding fiasco rumors are no longer high priority in the pretentious gossip sphere, everyone seems to have moved on to the newest scandal. Pierce is now combing through the prenup I signed to see if we can’t find a way to force Armstrong to stop stalling.

  Lex continues to stay on my mind. I dream about him, think about him, fantasize about him, and occasionally I stalk his social media profiles and then cry
. But I haven’t messaged him and he hasn’t messaged me. I can’t blame him, considering the way I acted the last time I saw him, or the way I bolted after I rode him like my personal sex toy. I’ve wanted to reach out, but it’s not a good idea since I don’t want to give Armstrong any more ammunition against me, or a reason for new rumors. I need to put Armstrong in my past before I dive into anything else and I can’t ask Lex to be part of that. He doesn’t deserve to be dragged into my crazy.

  Beyond that I still haven’t told my best friend that I slept with him. It’s an issue. A big one. I’ve declined three dinners with the Mills family over the past several weeks because I’m afraid Lex might be there. If I see him, I worry the same thing that happened in his car will happen again because I don’t have the willpower necessary to say no.

  It’s girls’ night in, since Bane is out with his brothers watching sports, or playing sports, or doing something sporty, because that’s how Bane is. I hate how excited I am over the prospect of being separated from Lex by mere degrees. I also hate that I hope they find a reason to stop by here, even though it’s unlikely.

  Ruby pours us both a glass of wine. She’s jittery tonight. Francesca, their illegal pet ferret, is curled up in my lap. She’s adorable, even if she’s a little stinky, and she makes my eyes itchy if I don’t take an antihistamine before I come over. Instead of sitting in the armchair, Ruby drops down on the other end of the couch.

  “Are you okay?”

  She’s seriously edgy. She keeps wringing her hands and then sitting on them.

  “I have to tell you something,” she blurts.

  “Is everything all right? Are you knocked up?” It’s entirely possible. She and Bane fuck like feral rabbits. I’d say ferrets, but I don’t actually know the fucking habits of ferrets.

  “I’m drinking.” She holds up her glass and takes a sizable sip to assure me that she is not, in fact, knocked up.

  “Right. Okay. So what’s going on? You’re kind of freaking me out here.”

  “Sorry.” She fidgets some more. “I’m just going to come out and tell you.”

  “Tell me what?” I worry it has something to do with Armstrong. He’s been quiet the past few days, not emailing or leaving messages at all. He’s also avoiding the calls from Pierce.

  “Bancroft proposed.”

  Thanks to my shock, it takes more time than it should before I’m able to open my mouth and make words come out. “Oh my God!” Bancroft is really the perfect person for her.

  It breaks my heart that she looks legitimately scared to be telling me this. What’s worse is she has a right to be, because as okay as I try to appear most of the time, she’s the one who sees me fall apart over this whole thing, more often than I’d like. And I haven’t even told her what I’m really falling apart over. I try to keep my voice level. “When did he propose?”

  She looks guilty rather than excited. “Don’t be mad, okay?”

  I’m reminded of the conversation I had with Armstrong when I handed in my resignation. I wonder if he was right, that they were waiting for me to be okay, and if that’s the case, how off balance have I been this whole time? “I won’t be mad. How long ago did he propose?”

  “Last week.”

  My stomach feels like is in my throat. “Last week when?”

  “Sunday. He took me out for dinner and then when we came home he strapped the ring box to Francesca’s back, it was weird and sweet.”

  I laugh, because seriously, what an odd way to propose to someone, but it really is fitting for the two of them. Francesca brought them together. “It sounds perfect. Why didn’t you tell me before now?”

  She’s sitting on her hands again. “I should’ve. I was going to, but then you had that bad day and I thought it might be better to wait awhile.”

  I filter back through the past week. The last bad day I had came on the heels of an email from Armstrong citing his refusal to sign the annulment until we’d met to discuss the terms. I hated being in this constant state of limbo, with the person I didn’t want keeping me tied to him and the person I wanted completely out of reach. I missed Lex. I wanted to call him, see him, just be with him, but I couldn’t. Not here in New York, not while Armstrong refuses to set me free.

  “I’m sorry you couldn’t share your excitement with me.” I don’t want to be sad right now. I want to be happy for my best friend, for the person who put aside her elation to shield me from my self-inflicted pain.

  She pats my knee. “It’s okay. I know how hard this has been for you.”

  I wave a hand around determined not to break down. “Let me see the damn ring!”

  She laughs, her relief understandable since my emotions have been so tenuous lately, and holds out her hand. It’s stunning and exactly perfect for Ruby. It’s not a huge rock. Instead, a princess-cut diamond sits nestled in white gold, smaller diamonds encasing it and fanning out along the band. It’s unique and beautiful.

  I skim the diamonds. “He picked this out on his own?”

  “I think Mimi helped him a little.”

  “It’s gorgeous. Have you thought about a date?” I wonder if it’s possible to have wedding PTSD, or to develop a phobia of weddings with how clammy my skin is.

  “Maybe summer. Or fall? I know it’s not really a lot of time, but I don’t know that we need it. I already live with him. I don’t need some big to-do. We’ll see. It’s all kind of new, right? Mimi’s already talking about an engagement party, and of course she wants it to be in one of the New York hotels.” She’s fidgeting again, like she’s nervous. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to be in the wedding party . . .” She trails off.

  “Of course I’ll be in your wedding. My experience isn’t going to get in the way of me standing up for my best friend.”

  “I just . . . I know how stressful he’s made this. I can’t guarantee Armstrong won’t be at the wedding. I mean, I don’t want him there, but he’s Bancroft’s family, and it’s kind of a complicated situation. I can tell you that Bancroft won’t hesitate to punch him out if he’s a jerk to you, though.”

  “I can deal with Armstrong.” It’s Lex who’s going to be the problem. I have no idea how to handle this situation with him anymore.

  “We’re having dinner with Bane’s family tomorrow night. Mimi wants to talk about the engagement party, and if you’re okay to be part of the planning, you could come, but I totally understand if it’s too much too soon.”

  “Of course I’ll come. I want to be involved.”

  “Great. Awesome. I’ll tell Mimi. Griffin is going to be there, and Lex, obviously. They’ll both be in the wedding party.”

  Oh God. Of course he’s going to be involved. Probably heavily. We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other in the coming months.

  Ruby eyes me warily. “What is that face about?”

  Telling Ruby about what happened in Bora Bora now will just make things more awkward. Not only did I lie to her while I was there and in the months since I’ve been back, but I also do not want Bane knowing. Besides, this is between me and Lex and, no matter what, I won’t betray his confidence over this. “Sorry. It’s nothing.”

  Ruby narrows her eyes. “Is it about Lex?”

  I shake my head, trying to keep the vigor to a minimum.

  “Amie, come on, talk to me. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you react every time I bring him up. Did something happen in Bora Bora that you’re not telling me about?”

  “No. Nothing happened.” I focus on my glass, wishing I didn’t have to keep this from her.

  “Are you sure, because you’re being really weird and evasive right now. You’ve declined every dinner you’ve been invited to at the Mills and just the mention of Lex’s name seems to freak you out. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

  I sigh, preparing for the bitterness of the lie before it comes out of my mouth. I’m a pretty decent liar. I’ve had lots of experience with it over the years, but most of the time I’m concocting lies with Rub
y, not telling them to her. “He was nothing but nice to me in Bora Bora. I’m just embarrassed about the way things happened at the wedding, and how he had to come to my rescue on my non-honeymoon. I’m making a bigger deal out of it than it needs to be.”

  “You’re sure? It’s okay if you’re not ready for this. I really will understand.”

  “I know you would, but honestly, Ruby, it’s nothing I can’t handle.” I lift my glass to my lips and don an impish smile. “It’s not an interrogation room in a Mexican airport, it’s a dinner party with a guy I tried to make screw me.”

  Ruby laughs, looking relieved but still uncertain. “I bet he wishes we hadn’t busted in on you.”

  “I don’t know about that, I waved gardening shears at him, he was pretty terrified.”

  “How did I not know about the gardening shears?”

  “How do you think I cut myself out of the dress?”

  “I sort of wish I’d been there to witness it.”

  “There is only one witness, and thankfully he seems to be good at keeping those details to himself on account of my threats with the shears.”

  “That was a real Anarchy Amie moment for you, or series of moments, I guess. I’m glad you let her out to play in Bora Bora, even though I didn’t even get to see one picture of Mr. Hottie Hook-Up.”

  “I figured it was better to leave all the evidence behind.” I’m glad I don’t have any pictures of Lex on my phone. Then I’d be able to connect them to specific memories, to a night, to the scent of his skin, to the feel of his lips, to the sound of his voice in my ear.

  I have no idea how I’m going to manage seeing him again.

  At least it’s a dinner party. I just have to make sure we don’t end up alone.

  Twenty: Private Party

  Lexington