Fluke, page 11
I palm the back of his head, urging it to lower faster.
Just as his mouth brushes against mine, Banks yells from the foyer.
“Hey, Jess! Did I leave my keys over here?”
I sag against his body, unable to contain my laughter. The letdown is a crash of adrenaline. Jess rests his forehead against mine and chuckles too—I think so he doesn’t kill his brother.
“Go the fuck away, Sparkles,” Jess shouts.
“Here they are! I found them!” The door slams shut.
Jess blows out a breath and pulls away from me. He runs a hand over his head and grumbles. “Have I ever told you how much I hate him?”
My laughter gets louder.
He shakes his head and sighs. “Well, we might as well go to Mom’s before she starts calling or knocking because my family clearly has issues with boundaries.”
My jaw drops. “No.”
“What?”
“You can’t just … walk away after that.”
“What do you want me to do?” he asks with a shit-eating grin.
“Do you want me to give you a play-by-play? Because I can. I will.”
Before I know what’s happening, he reaches for me and yanks me into him again. I melt into his arms, my heart pounding so hard I might faint.
“Let me tell you something, Dream Girl,” he says, his eyes blazing. “I’ve thought about what I would do to you so many fucking times that my cock is about to explode with you in my arms.”
I slip my hand between us and palm him through his pants. He flexes against me, his nostrils flaring.
“But I’m not fucking you right now,” he says, his features resolute.
“And why not?”
He lowers his face to mine. “Because when I fuck you, you’ll beg me for it, just like I’ve begged you for years.”
Oh. My. Fucking. Hell.
“You’re going to sit through dinner, surrounded by my family, with soaked panties while you think of my cock splitting you in two.”
I gulp, barely able to breathe. He’s right. I’m already absolutely soaked, and all I can think about is his cock.
“After dinner, if you behave, I’ll bring you back here and give you everything you want.”
I force a swallow. My lips part, and I suck in a deep breath. His cologne fills my senses, and the room gets hazy.
“You’ve made me wait. It won’t kill you to wait a couple of hours now,” he says, smirking. “Let’s go have dinner.”
“You’re not even going to kiss me?” I ask, bewildered.
He chuckles as he leaves the room. “Nope.”
Motherfucker.
12
PIPPA
“What’s the matter?” Jess asks, reaching behind him and grabbing my hand. He winks, slowing his pace so I can catch up.
Not that I couldn’t catch up if I wanted to. I’m just moping. And reeling. Pouting a little bit too.
“Holding your hand is so lame,” I say, rolling my eyes.
He chuckles, clearly amused by my antics. “I’m sorry. Are your panties in a twist?”
“For your information, I’m not wearing any. So fuck off.”
He stops in the middle of the road between his house and his parents’. The abruptness leaves me stumbling.
He works his jaw back and forth, studying me to discover whether I’m telling the truth.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Is your dick getting hard again?”
It’s my turn to wink.
“You think this is funny, don’t you?” he asks.
“About as funny as you did when you told me you weren’t even going to kiss me.”
“There wasn’t time.”
“How long does it take to kiss me? I’m starting to think you’re full of shit, and you’ve let your mouth overload your ass—which is something I know a lot about. Hence, the reason I’m here in the first place.”
He plucks a lock of hair off my shoulder and tosses it back. His knuckles graze my skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake.
“If I get the privilege of touching you,” he says, his voice soft, “I’m not hurrying. I’m not kissing you and ending it so we can leave. I’m not starting something I can’t stop. I’ve waited too damn long.”
My chest tightens as I peer up into his green eyes. “If, huh? Do you think there’s a chance it won’t happen?”
“I’m trying not to get my hopes up, just in case.”
Anxiety flickers through me, and I shift my weight from one foot to the other, trying to process which way to go.
I know what he means about not getting his hopes up; I don’t want to set myself up for disappointment, either.
Although I’m all in on sleeping with Jess today—now, preferably—I haven’t forgotten reality.
“Let’s make a deal,” I say.
“Shoot.”
“All bets are off for the next week. Until we get back from Silver Springs, anything goes.”
His eyes light up.
“We both want this, right?” I ask.
“Hell, yeah.”
“So let’s do it. Take disappointment off the table. Let’s get our fill of one another and get back to our regularly scheduled programming.”
He gives me a crooked smile. “What if our regularly scheduled programming gets new channels?”
“It won’t.”
It can’t.
He looks at me curiously. “How are you so sure? How do you know with certainty that you won’t come back from Silver Springs and want to keep things going? I can be very persuasive.”
“Not persuasive enough, or we would’ve fucked before now.”
His gaze nearly burns a hole through me. This isn’t helping.
“Look, Jess, I’ve told you before that you’ll be a great husband and father someday. That’s not my future. I don’t want that. And what I don’t want even more is to get to a spot together where we’re having conversations that I can already resolve now. I would rather not do anything at all with you than have to do that.”
“But you’re willing to give me a week?”
I nod.
“What happens if you fall in love with me in a week?” he asks.
“I won’t.”
“What if you do?”
“You overestimate yourself, buddy.”
He leans down, his breath hot on my lips. I expect him to pull away—to tease me like he’s been doing. I start to speak when his tongue swipes lazily across my bottom lip.
Gah! The heat, the wetness, all the things he says without saying them with this one single move have me panting. I want more. I need more. I need more now.
I lean toward him to deepen the exchange, but he backs away.
“What was that?” I ask, panting.
He makes a wide circle around me and heads to his mom’s house. “That was me double-checking my math.”
“Your math for what?”
He doesn’t answer me until we’re at the base of the steps to the porch. By the time we get there, I’m hot, bothered, irritated—and so turned on that my thighs are sticky beneath my dress.
I don’t know if I find him more sexy or more frustrating—if I want to tell him to fuck off or to fuck me.
Maybe both.
“I’m not overestimating shit,” he says. The humor drifts away from his face and, in its place, is a seriousness that makes my stomach drop. “But I want to be clear. I will be doing my best to make you fall head-over-fucking-heels in love with me. If you’re sure you can walk away when we get home from the trip, then I’m going to get every last moment that I can with you. I’ve waited almost my whole life for this. If you can still walk away after that, then fine.”
But what if I can’t?
Unfortunately, there’s no time to answer because Damaris opens the door.
“There you are,” she says. “I was just going to take a look and see if you were on your way yet.”
Jess’s gaze slides across mine. “We’re here. Is everyone else?”
“Yes. We’re about ready to eat.”
Jess and I climb the stairs, and I enter the house behind Damaris. He doesn’t say anything else to me, nor does he touch me or give me some sort of idea what’s going through his head.
“I will be doing my best to make you fall head-over-fucking-heels in love with me.”
My stomach twists.
“Do you need help with anything, Damaris?” I ask.
“No, just enjoy yourself, sweetheart. We’re down a few people today. Foxx is still out of town. Maddox had to show a house to someone, and Ashley went with him. Brooke went to Honey’s for dinner because she’s still not well.”
Honey? Not well? Wait a minute …
We enter the kitchen to noise and scents and family. Banks and Moss sit at the table, looking at something on Banks’s phone. Kixx stands behind them, a cup in his hand, dissecting whatever is on the screen. Steam rolls from the pots and pans on the stove, and whatever it is—it smells amazing.
Kixx looks up. “Hey, Pippa! Good to see you. I heard you’re a part of the madness for the next week.”
My heart pounds. “Yeah. I’m officially your son’s fake divorcée.”
I hold my breath, not sure what the reaction will be. Jess said he told them, and they were all okay with this scenario. But standing here with them all looking at me is a different thing altogether.
“I bet you divorced him over his attitude,” Banks says. “He’s a dick.”
Everyone except Jess laughs. He glares at his youngest brother instead.
I turn toward the kitchen.
“Or,” Banks says, “you might’ve left him because you’ve been sitting on my face.”
I spin around to face him. Moss’s head whips to his brother. Jess looks like he’s going to throttle Banks.
“What?” I ask.
Banks grins. “My face is stuck to your ass.” He points at me. “I mean … really.”
I reach around to the back of my dress and feel something sticky. I pull it off and look at it—and burst out laughing. So does everyone else … except Jess.
“You took that the wrong way, didn’t you?” Banks smirks, his question directed at Jess. “I’m disappointed you think I’d be that disloyal to you, my brotherhood buddy. But I’m also proud that you think I could pull her in.”
“Change the subject before I stuff you in your rooster and roll you back home,” Jess says, sitting at the table.
“I thought you gave him a few hours to get that moved?” Moss asks. “It’s been days.”
Jess’s temple pulses. His posture is stiff. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so … bothered. He’s normally so easygoing, but he’s obviously hit his limit today.
Maybe a part of his frustration is from me.
“If you’re sure you can walk away when we get home from the trip, then I’m going to get every last moment that I can with you. I’ve waited almost my whole life for this.”
What does that mean? As if staying away is simply impossible, I walk across the room and stand behind him. My hands rest on his shoulders before I begin working them around, massaging the thick muscles.
It takes no time at all for him to relax into my touch. It takes even less time for me to realize this was a terrible idea in front of people. My sex clenches, desperate for relief—begging for the attention he’s promised it.
“You know what?” I ask. “I like Jess’s big cock. I hope he keeps it while I’m around.”
Banks throws his hands up in the air.
Moss shakes his head. “Well-freaking-played.”
Kixx chuckles. “You know what, Pippa? I like you.”
I laugh. “I’m glad.”
Jess snakes his hand around the back of the chair and grips my leg. He squeezes it, clasping it tightly as if it’s a promise of what’s to come.
I pat Jess’s shoulder and then step away. Every cell in my body tingles—every nerve ending is frazzled.
“Damaris?” I ask. “May I use your restroom?”
“Oh, sure, honey. It’s through that doorway and then down the hall on your right.”
“Thanks.”
Jess’s eyes are on my back as I disappear around the corner.
Pictures of the Carmichael kids are framed on the walls. It’s amazing how much they all look alike—except Paige—and I wonder how Kixx and Damaris can tell which boy is which. Maybe that comes with birthing a human. It would make sense.
The bathroom is comfortably classy in shades of eggplant and cream. There are bits of green here and there that give it a bit of flair and dimension.
I turn on the faucet and then pull up my dress. The panties I lied about wearing are pointless. They’re soaked and irritating, so I slip them off. Not sure what to do with them, and having left my purse in the car, I tuck the thin material into one of the pockets in my dress. I’ll find an excuse to get something out of my car before dinner.
After a quick wash of my hands and a slight adjustment to my hair, I open the door.
Oof. Jess is standing on the other side. He embodies the sexual frustration pounding through my veins.
“What’s going on?” I ask sweetly.
“You just rubbed your hands all over me in front of my family so I can’t do anything back,” he says. “That wasn’t nice.”
I gasp in faux horror. “I was trying to be helpful.”
He winks. “I’ll remember to be helpful later.”
Oh shit.
I hold his gaze, hoping to find a crack in his armor. But there is no crack. There’s only a man who knows what he wants and can taste it.
My stomach roils as I imagine what might be waiting for me later. But that’s exactly what Jess wants—he wants me to be on the edge and unable to think about anything besides him.
Two can play that game.
I take his hand in mine and hold it up. Then I slip my panties out of my pocket and hook them over his thumb.
His eyes darken. They hood. He licks his lips, and I wonder for a split second whether he’s going to press me up against the hallway and have his way right now.
I wink and then walk as coolly and confidently as I can back into the kitchen, leaving him standing behind me.
13
JESS
“You survived your first Carmichael family dinner.” I close my front door behind Pippa and we remove our shoes. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”
“No. It was great. Interesting, actually.”
The words sound innocent enough, but there’s not a damn thing innocent about the look in her eyes.
My blood runs hot. My instincts plead with me not to waste time—to grab her and hold her and take advantage of this situation before something happens and she changes her mind.
But if she wants to change her mind, I want her to do it before I touch her. For both of our sakes.
“Do you know that Banks has a fudge fork?” she asks.
I deadbolt the door. “A what?”
I guide her into the living room. It’s the biggest room in the house and the most comfortable. I took a wall out in the kitchen and opened it up to this space, creating a room where everyone can hang out, watch television, or enter the sliding glass doors to the lanai.
“A fudge fork. That’s what he called it,” she says, glancing at the pool through the glass. “Your mom asked me to get the forks for dessert. I opened the wrong drawer—one full of paperwork and knickknacks. There was a fork sticking out from under a phonebook, so I pulled it out. Banks snatched it out of my hand and whispered that it was his fudge fork like he was giving me the code to Fort Knox.”
“What does one do with a fudge fork? Or do I not want to know?”
She looks at me and smiles. “Apparently, your mom buys this fancy fudge sometimes—he specifically mentioned pistachio—and he keeps that fork there so he doesn’t have to keep walking to the other side of the kitchen for one. That way he can just slide it over and take a bite.” She laughs. “He demonstrated it. Said it saves him time.”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry.”
“I was hoping you were going to say that.”
Pippa saunters across the room. Her lips press together to hide a smile.
I hum as she grows closer. My heart thumps erratically, and my mind tries to accept that this is really happening.
Having her in my house, looking at me like this, is the culmination of every dream I’ve ever had. Only, in my dreams, I was unable to fully appreciate how satisfying this moment would be—how wild and unbelievable and confusing and amazing.
And how it all makes sense.
Normally, if a woman was here with me, I’d be getting down to business. My mind would be on fucking her for the sport of it. Enjoying my bachelorhood. Making her come so hard that she screams—just to know I can do it—then getting off, and then getting on with the day.
It’s lust, a chemical rush, a physical interaction that doesn’t extend any further than the moment I pull out.
Throwing the condom in the trash is the period at the end of that sentence.
Done.
But I’m not quite sure how to process this.
This isn’t the same.
With Pippa, I want to savor every moment. Take my time, try things—discover what she likes. I want to please her, show her how fucking beautiful she is, and then do it again.
I want this to be the bar she uses to measure every sexual experience.
And I want all those experiences to be with me.
I’ve fallen for her. I fell for her before I could drive a car. I just need to convince her that she should give me a chance—that maybe she could fall for me too.
“Did you think I was saying I’m sorry to you?” I ask.
She stops a few feet in front of me. “Yeah. That’s what you said.”
“What would I be apologizing to you for?”
I roll my tongue around my mouth as a cocky little grin graces those lips that will be wrapped around my cock soon enough.
“I don’t know. I just thought maybe you were sorry for leaving me hanging earlier.”
Chuckling, I shake my head. “Nope.”
“Jess …” My name is half desperation and half annoyance.
