by Kim Karr
“Okay,” she says.
“Okay,” I grin.
With a bite of her lip, she extends her right arm. “I’ll take it.”
I take her proffered hand in mine and slowly shake it. The entire time my eyes are watching as the color of her cheeks flushes.
Yeah, I did that on purpose.
Quickly, she draws her hand back and covers it with her glove. “Thanks to you it looks like I won’t have to get in bed with the devil.”
There is so much in that statement I’d like to dissect.
The most hopeful line of thinking being…does she mean she’ll get in bed with me instead?
Hey, I might have saved the day, but I never said I was a knight in shining armor.
11
Tess
With construction paper covering the table, and a couple pairs of blunt scissors lying on top of the messy piles, I stare out the picture window facing the street.
The weather hasn’t improved at all. Snow is still falling, the temperature has dropped to near ten degrees, and ice is beginning to form everywhere.
With the roads in really bad condition, and visibility as poor as it is, it is very unlikely that many patrons will be out and about on this Sunday afternoon. Because of this, it is doubtful my planned scouting expedition to Printer’s Row will give me the information I’m looking for, so I decide to postpone my research trip until tomorrow.
“Bye-bye,” Max says, jarring me out of my thoughts.
I glance down at the phone screen.
Fiona looks so great—tanned and smiling. “Bye, my baby. Mommy loves you,” Fiona says to Max, blowing him kisses.
“Daddy loves you too,” Ethan adds, placing his hand on Fiona’s bare thigh. The happy family moment makes my heart swell. Ethan comes closer, and it’s then I notice that unfortunately he doesn’t look tan like Fiona, but rather burned. Really, really painfully burned. Could it be karma perhaps? Okay that wasn’t nice.
Rising to my feet, I take a step behind Max and wave at the two of them sitting happily on their hotel room bed. We’ve been facetime chatting for almost ten minutes, and I think Max has had his fill of remaining still.
As if on cue, Max looks back at me with his colored snowflake in his hand. “Can I go hang this one?” he asks in his cute toddler voice, where the words are sometimes hard to decipher.
I’m getting better at it at least.
Understanding most of his sentence, I offer him my hand to help him off the stool. “Yes, of course, but first say goodbye to Mommy and Daddy one more time.”
“Bye,” he calls as his little bare feet hit the floor and he trots over to the staircase where we are hanging our snowflake collection.
“I really miss him,” Fiona says with a tear in her eye.
I snatch up the phone from where it is propped. “He misses you too.”
“Are you sure he’s doing okay?” Ethan asks, concern clear in his voice.
“He’s more than okay,” I reassure with a smile. “You have nothing to worry about, Nick and I are taking very good care of him.”
“About that,” Fiona winces, pulling the phone closer so it’s only her and I visible on the screen.
I narrow my eyes at her. “Yes, about that.” I haven’t talked to Fiona since she left. We’ve texted, emailed, exchanged messages, but this is the first time we’ve been face to face.
“I should have called and warned you about Nick, I’m really sorry.”
“Warned?” I hear Ethan sigh in the background. “It’s not like he’s trouble.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Fiona clarifies. “You know they don’t get along that well.”
I decide not to say anything to Ethan because in my heart I know he did what he thought was best for Max. And to settle the issue there, I give Fiona a don’t worry about it wave. I don’t want her to feel bad. Besides, the situation is much better than I thought it would be. However, her and I will discuss this in private when she returns. “It’s all good, honestly, Nick has been surprisingly very helpful.”
“Speaking of Nick, is he around?” Ethan asks, taking the phone from Fiona.
“No, he left early this morning. He went to visit his brother at school.”
“Can you tell him to call my office tomorrow about the new land deal in Miami?”
I shake my finger at him. “Tsk. Tsk. I thought you weren’t working on your vacation?”
“I’m not. My paralegal just has a few quick questions for him. And Tess,” he says.
“Yes,” I reply.
“Thank you for everything.”
This is about as close to an apology as I’ll probably ever get from Ethan for springing Nick on me the way he did, so I accept it graciously. “You’re welcome. Now stop arguing about the two of us and you two go have fun.”
Fiona puts her head on Ethan’s shoulder so I can see her. “Just remember, it wasn’t me.”
I shake my head.
Ethan turns to look at her. “Tess said that was enough.”
“I know, but I want her to understand that—” Fiona tries to say.
Before she can finish, Ethan pushes his wife down on the mattress and she shrieks in surprise. I love the giggle I hear in her voice. “Gotta go,” she calls.
Shaking my head with a huge grin on my face, I hit the disconnect button because I’m not sure they are going to remember to.
My cell rings before I even set my phone down. I figure it’s Fiona, but when I glance at the screen and see the name, I consider not answering it. He’s called three times already, but I decide to pick it up this time. If not, I know he’ll just call back.
“Hello,” I answer.
“Miss Winters, it’s Derrick Williams. How are you today?”
“I’m good.”
“Great to hear. Listen, I was just wondering if you have signed Mr. Bigelow’s lease yet? I could run over and pick it up.”
I glance toward Max. “I’m sorry Derrick, but I won’t be taking the property after all.”
Derrick clears his throat. “Can I ask why not?”
“I found something better suited for my café, but thank you for your time.”
“Yes, of course. Do you mind telling me what price you were quoted?”
I tell him. Not sure why he even cares. The deal is done.
“What should I tell Mr. Bigelow?” he asks.
“What I just told you, I suppose.”
He clears his throat again. “May I ask where you found a more suitable location?”
“In Printer’s Row.”
Derrick is silent for a long while. “Thank you for your time, Miss Winters,” he says and then hangs up.
That was strange.
Shrugging it off, I set my phone down and join Max to help him string the snowflakes. During the process he somehow manages to convince me he doesn’t need to take a nap today.
It’s almost three when Nick returns, our agreed upon time for the change of shift
“Hey,” he says as he comes up the stairs.
He’s wearing a ski jacket, beanie, and jeans, and my heart does a little pitter-patter when he comes into full view. I can’t stop my reaction. He just looks so masculine. I promised myself I wouldn’t compare Nick to Ansel, because come on, that is just stupid all the way around. And yet I find myself doing it. Whereas Nick is long and lean, toned and muscular, Ansel was thin. Fit, but thin. Whereas Nick fills out his clothes, Ansel’s were never snug.
I run my tongue over my bottom lip.
I should stop.
But I don’t.
Nick works out. Yes, he works out a lot. Ansel, on the other hand, refused to do anything but run. He said he was worried he’d get too bulky. Now I wonder if he was more worried he wouldn’t. And yes, that puts a grin on my face.
Shoving the comparison aside and vowing never to do it again, I refocus on Nick. “Hey, what’s all that?”
It’s just now that I notice in his arms he is carrying a number of bags. “Groceri
es, just in case we end up getting snowed in,” he remarks.
I leave Max to string the last of the cut pieces of paper around the bottom rail of the staircase banister and rush over to grab one of the bags from Nick. “God, I hope the storm doesn’t get that bad. I have so much to do.”
Nick sets the remaining bags in his arms down on the counter. “All the weather channels are predicting conditions will worsen overnight. You might have to postpone that to-do list of yours for a day or two.”
I set the bag I’m holding down next to the others and sigh, knowing there is nothing I can do about the coming storm except stay inside to keep warm.
Nick begins to unpack the groceries, and I stand here, watching his muscular form as he moves around the kitchen.
When he hands me a can of coffee to put in the cabinet behind me, I catch a gleam in his blue eyes.
He’s caught me staring again.
“Uncle Nick. Uncle Nick. Uncle Nick. Look!” Max shouts with excitement as he points to our snowflakes he has now successfully put on full display.
Nick grins over at Max, but I know he’s smirking at me. “Wow, did you make all those?”
Feeling a blush coating my cheeks, I quickly look away from him and toward Max.
Max nods, pride evident in his eyes. “Auntie Tess and I did. Come see.”
“In a minute, champ.”
“I got this,” I tell him, taking the boxes from his hands and being very careful to avoid coming in contact with his skin.
“You sure?” he asks, his eyes skimming down my body in a way I don’t recall them ever doing.
I fight back a shiver. “Yes, go. Max has been waiting for you.”
His gaze sharpens when it climbs back up and reaches my eyes. “Yeah, I bet he has. I promised him I’d take him outside to build a fort when I got back, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
I try to remain calm, but something inside me feels on fire. “No, I don’t think so either. I told him it might be too cold. That’s why we started making it snow inside.”
Nick strides away with a grin I can’t quite place. He seems to take his time as he removes his outerwear. Just before he reaches Max, he glances over his shoulder, and it’s then I figure out what he is doing. He’s watching me watch him.
I quickly look away.
“Burrrr…it’s really cold in here. Are those real?” he says to Max.
At the sound of his voice, I turn back. I can’t help myself. I watch a little longer. And I can’t help but smile when I see the excitement in Max’s eyes that Nick has returned. Max shows Nick the snowflakes and Nick admires each one.
Sucking in a huge breath, I blow it out and get to work putting the rest of the food away.
Since I’ve already decided to stay home, I offer to cook stir-fry for dinner. Even though cooking has never been my thing, I did pick up a few things at culinary school, so there are a few dishes I can cook fairly well, stir-fry being one of those meals.
Nick, still busy examining each piece of paper, quickly takes me up on my offer.
It’s not long before he and Max have moved on. Now they are getting to serious work building a fort inside with pillows and blankets.
Turning the music on low and grabbing a glass of wine, I get to work cleaning the vegetables I will need for dinner. Once done, I decide to go ahead and prep them as well. After all, the boys are buried deep under mounds of blankets, so I have time to myself. With that, I grab a knife and start slicing carrots on the chopping board. I can’t help but pray I won’t end up cutting my thumbs into flesh-colored matchsticks. After all, it’s been a long while since I’ve done this.
Lost in my thoughts as I’m chopping away, a hand on my shoulder and a voice in my ear startles me. “I usually cut them into chunks,” Nick says.
His voice is thick and husky and my nipples tighten from the sound. I have this strange urge to lean back against him, press my back to his front, feel his hardness, sway to the music. But the thoughts are ludicrous. Instead of falling into my crazy, I stand a little straighter and say to Nick, “All vegetables need to be as thin as possible for them to cook properly.”
He’s already at the refrigerator before I even finish speaking, and my fantasy of him kissing my neck with his strong hands tight on my hips is instantly crushed as soon as he opens it and grabs a beer. “So that’s the secret,” he smirks, popping off the top, “And here I thought it never came out right because of my cooking.”
Grabbing for the onion, I stab the white skin with the tip of the knife and kick myself for hoping he came in here to see me. “That could be it too,” I joke, wanting to keep the banter going to mask my disappointment.
Nick points his bottle my way. “Watch it, cocky has consequences.”
“Maybe I like consequences.”
Okay, so I’m flirting back even though I told myself I wouldn’t. Told myself that Nick Carrington is a world-class flirt. I mean come on; I’ve seen him in action many times. And yet, I’m doing just that. And to boot, it seems I can’t help myself.
“Uncle Nick, Uncle Nick, Uncle Nick.” Max has entered the kitchen. His little voice carries a bit of annoyance in it that makes me laugh. “You said you were just going to check on Tess and come right back.”
So Nick did come in here to see me.
The very thought makes me giddy.
Nick says nothing in response to Max’s complaint. He just sets his bottle down, scoops Max up and places him on his shoulders, and then gallops into the living room. “Come on, we have some things to discuss in the fort,” he tells Max as he sets him down.
“What kind of things?” Max asks in his cute voice.
“Manly things,” Nick responds.
“Manly? What’s that?”
“I’m about to explain it to you,” Nick whispers before covering them both up and turning on the flashlight.
At that, I take another sip of my wine and try not to laugh out loud because seriously, this situation is laughable. I’m co-sitting with a man I thought I hated, and turns out, I might kind of like him. And he might just kind of like me too. And how dumb is that—at my age, I certainly know better than to fall for the likes of Nick Carrington.
I really do.
12
Tess
Meal prepping is tedious business—popcorn is so much easier.
Twenty minutes later, I have finally finished. Now I feel like my entire body smells of onions, peppers, and broccoli. Hating the vegetable smell on my skin, I decide since I haven’t showered yet today that I have time to take a quick one before I start dinner.
Without a word, I slip away.
Upstairs, I’m faced with a tough decision—shower or bath. The bathroom off of Fiona and Ethan’s room is old and only has a bathtub with a shower sprayer, which means you have to stand and hold the sprayer over you.
Not very relaxing.
The only other full bathroom is all the way down on the bottom floor, and Nick has been using that one. Fiona and Ethan plan to remodel their bathroom to add a shower, but they haven’t gotten to that renovation yet.
Not wanting to invade on the space I practically ordered Nick to take, I opt for the tub. Turning on the warm water, I run the bath and add some of Fiona’s lavender oil to it. Soon enough I’m settling in. I let the water enfold me, hold me, cradle me even as I sink deeper and deeper.
When the water is at the halfway level, I let my chin rest on the surface and start thinking about this past week.
Nick is so different from what I thought he was. I thought he was a jerk, so I never bothered to look any further. Now, I’m not only looking, I’m seeing way more than I should be. Feeling way more than I should be. Wanting way more than I should be.
Want.
Need.
Desire.
I’m feeling it all.
So much so that I find myself sliding my hands down my body in the hot water. The bath oil makes my skin slick. Smooth. Soft. Slippery enough that my palms skid o
ver my stomach and thighs with ease.
Because I haven’t had sex or even masturbated in months, my arousal seems heightened. Desperate even.
Sinking lower into the deep tub, with my ears now in the water, I’m able to hear the wildly beating thump of my heart.
The pitter-patter caused by thoughts of him.
Thoughts I shouldn’t be having.
And despite this, I am spurred on by the sound of my own heart. Without a second thought, I cup my breasts. Stroke them. Pass my palms over my nipples before pinching them both between my fingers. A sigh leaks out of me as they burn and tighten.
His voice is in my head. “Cocky has consequences.”
Consequences.
I want them, and I don’t even know what they are.
I tug and tug and tug until I feel an answering pull in my clit. I move the firm flesh back and forth, tugging on them harder and harder, waiting for it to feel like his hands are on me.
I want to know what that feels like—in the worst way.
Needing more, I open my legs and push my hips against the water. Still tugging on one of my nipples, I slide my other hand down between my thighs.
My clit is more than ready for my touch, his touch.
I bite my lip, the gentle stroke enough to make my hips jerk toward the surface. Still it’s not enough. Not nearly enough. Not him.
Needing even more, I apply pressure and circle my clit. The water supports me and lifts me, but not for long. Soon I’m pushing my pelvis against my fingers and my shoulder blades bump the bottom of the tub.
His hands.
His big, callused palms.
Rough and soft.
His long, strong fingers.
That’s what I want to feel.
That’s what I pretend I feel.
Sliding two fingers inside, I try to make believe it is okay I’m daydreaming about him. And for a minute, it is okay.
It’s only pretend.
I think of him and the way he moves, and my clit swells, opening my body with an ache that needs to be filled.
By him.
By his huge cock.
By the time I realize I shouldn’t be thinking this way about him, it’s too late. I can’t stop. I imagine it’s him in here with me. Not my own fingers. And he is fucking me. Fucking me hard in the alpha way he has about him. Telling me to sit on his lap. To ride his hard cock. And I do. I do just as he says. Soon, we’re all tongues and hands, and fucking like animals. With an image in my mind that can never take place in the real world, I explode in a small whirlwind of lust.
