Finally Fell, page 2
“It’s…” She worked hard to recover without incident. “It’s very nice to finally meet you in better circumstances.” She held her smile on her face as finally, her eyes met mine. Again, her pupils dilated, making her pale-blue eyes darken.
With lust?
Damn. I couldn’t know with certainty that’s what she was feeling. But fuck, it was most definitely what I was feeling.
One. Simple. Touch.
As quick as it was there, it was gone. She’d withdrawn her hand, her gaze once more fixed just over my shoulder.
“Aren’t you both in the same office?” Jessie asked, oblivious—as was everyone else—as to what had just transpired between us. “How is it you’ve never run into each other?”
It was an excellent question. One I was pretty sure I already knew the answer to.
“If I didn’t know better,” I said with just enough mischief in my voice to keep it light, “I’d think that Brittany’s been avoiding me.”
I saw the flinch. I was right. She had been avoiding me. But why?
“Why would I be avoiding you?” Her voice didn’t reveal anything. “After all, I don’t even know you.”
Jessie looked between her friend and back to me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her roll her eyes. So, I wasn’t the only one who recognized that something was up with Brittany.
But if Jessie thought her friend was acting strange, there must be some kind of secret friendship pact, because she didn’t say anything, but swiftly changed the subject to ask about the development that was going in where her diner had once stood.
Distracted, I did my best not to be rude to her, especially considering we were tentatively building a friendship after our rocky start, and answered all of her questions as Shane and Brittany fell into a separate conversation beside us. Distractedly, I realized Trista had found her way to the bar—again—and the bartender who didn’t try to hide the fact that he was ogling her breasts as he poured her stronger than necessary drinks.
I shook my head slightly. I’d peel her away from the bar later; after all, even annoying and vapid, she was still my date. And her tits were magnificent.
“So what do you think, Trent?”
I cleared my head and refocused on the conversation, which had clearly shifted again.
Shane watched me, waiting for an answer. “What do you think?”
“Sounds good.”
“It does?” Shane raised his eyes.
Shit. It was the wrong answer, apparently. But, I was invested now. “Why not?” I said with confidence.
“Looks like you’re outvoted, Shane,” Jessie said next to me.
“You’re supposed to be on my side, man,” Shane said with a groan. But despite the fact that he’d obviously conceded to whatever it was his girlfriend wanted, he didn’t look upset.
But I was still confused.
“Do I get a vote?” Brittany asked.
“No way,” Jessie jumped in. “You’re my friend, so obviously you agree with me.”
“Sure,” Brittany said with an emphasized smile. “A dinner party sounds like fun, Jessie. I can’t wait.”
So that’s what I’d agreed to. It could be worse. I didn’t mind a dinner party among friends. It was definitely better than these stuffy affairs, and even they weren’t all bad. There were worse things than being surrounded by gorgeous women. And that was definitely one of the perks of these things. My eyes settled on Brittany, who looked damned good in her black off-the-shoulder dress. It was fitted and clung to her in all the right ways. Her body was long and lean, her breasts smaller than what usually caught my eye, but still beautiful. In fact, everything about Brittany was stunning. Elegant in a way that demanded attention and respect.
“Not a dinner party,” Jessie corrected. “A housewarming party.” She laughed. “Super casual. Just a few friends.”
“Tell me when,” I said with a smile as Trista reappeared at my side and threaded her arm through mine. “I’ll be there.”
I heard Shane mutter traitor, but he chuckled as he said it. It was no secret that he’d do anything for Jessie. My friend, who’d once been burned so badly by a woman that he’d sworn off any relationship longer than one night, was completely head over heels and one hundred percent devoted to the single mom.
And if it could happen to Shane…
My eyes drifted down to Trista, who looked up at me with hooded lids full of promise. Or too much alcohol. Either way, it was definitely time to take her home. But it wasn’t my date who held my attention as I quickly said our goodbyes.
“It was nice to properly meet you, Trent.” Brittany’s voice gave nothing away, but I was certain I heard the slightest trace of sarcasm there. Her eyes sparkled as she looked in my direction.
I took her hand again, this time squeezing it just a little as the heat flowed between us. “I hope to see you soon, Brittany.” I looked straight into her eyes so I didn’t miss the flash in them. “Now that I know you’re not avoiding me.”
Her cheeks pinked. Not enough for anyone else to notice, except me, as she withdrew her hand, clearly flustered.
I turned to leave, Trista still glued to my left side.
“Enjoy the rest of your night.”
Brittany’s voice reached me and just like that, I knew there was only one way I’d be enjoying the rest of my night. And unfortunately, that wasn’t likely to happen.
Chapter Two
It felt like forever before I was finally able to make my excuses and leave the club behind. The cool, calm quiet of my penthouse condo welcomed me like a hug the moment I stepped through the door.
My girlfriends all made fun of my style, complaining that they could never be comfortable in my space. Not that I cared. I hadn’t decorated for them. I’d decorated for me. And I loved it. The crisp clean lines of the white marble counters, that blended seamlessly with the white tile floors and slightly off-white walls, were soothing. My pale-gray leather couch was much more comfortable than it looked, and it wasn’t as if there were no color at all in my space. The artwork had been designed in shades of blues that matched the throw cushions and a few choice hand-blown glass pieces.
Yes, it was simple. Unfussy.
Just like me.
It was home. And as long as I loved it, that’s all that mattered.
A sharp meow filled the air the moment I closed the front door behind me.
Okay, it wasn’t just me that mattered. It was also Sheldon.
I bent down and gathered my fluffy black and white cat into my arms. Sheldon immediately nuzzled into my neck, his loud purr filling my ears.
“See? I’m not alone,” I said to Sheldon.
The girls might think I was lonely, but they were wrong. I had Sheldon. We’d been together for just over ten years, and it was hands down the best relationship I’d ever been in. Not that I’d ever had an actual relationship with a man. But who needed it? The last thing I needed was someone cluttering up my space, complaining that I worked too much, or that I made more money than they did. Men were all the same. Insecure and threatened by a strong woman with her shit together.
I didn’t need it.
I scratched Sheldon’s head and tried to snuggle him closer, but he had other ideas as he meowed and squirmed to be let down.
Despite his fluffiness, he was definitely not a cuddly cat. I liked his style.
Attention on his own terms. When he wanted it and only as much as he wanted. And then…leave him alone.
It was just like mine, which was why we worked well together.
I shimmied out of my dress and dropped it in the hamper for dry cleaning later.
It was late and I should get some sleep, but I was too keyed up after the party.
No.
After Trent Thomas.
The man got under my skin, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on why.
Not true.
I knew exactly what it was.
It was the way he looked at me. No man ever looked at me that way.
Sure, they looked with desire, intimidation, maybe even respect in the middle of a business deal. But Trent looked at me with interest. Like he was actively trying to figure me out or learn something about me without asking.
Like he cared.
But that was ridiculous. Why would a man like Trent Thomas, who’d hardly ever met me, care about me?
It didn’t make sense.
Nor did it matter to me. A minor detail I needed to keep reminding myself of.
Regardless, I wasn’t going to be able to sleep, so I tugged on a pair of leggings over my long legs and an oversized sweater and followed Sheldon out to the living room. I poured myself a glass of soda water from the bottle in the fridge and contemplated adding a splash of vodka but decided against it.
I hardly ever drank, and that was by design. Alcohol caused you to drop your guard, loosen your inhibitions and make decisions you’d regret. Not that I’d personally experienced it. That was also by design.
But I’d seen enough people have their life changed, both in small and major ways, because of alcohol to know that it was best just to steer clear of it altogether.
My eyes drifted to the large box that had arrived earlier that day. I had the delivery guy put it in the corner, and I had full intentions of leaving it there, well…at least until I could have it moved to the storage unit I had in the parking garage. There was nothing of value in the box. That I knew without even looking inside.
Still, almost against my will, I felt drawn to the box until I stood over it.
Addressed to me, it had been sent by Fraser Lawrence. My late mother’s assistant.
And that’s how I knew it would hold nothing of value. She’d donated everything she had to charity. Everything.
Mom and I had never been close. She’d been a workaholic up until her death six months ago. The only thing she cared about was her work as a corporate lawyer. I’d held some sort of childlike fantasy that when her assistant called to tell me she was dying, it was because my mother loved and cared about me and wanted nothing more than to have me at her side so she could apologize for not being the mother I needed and deserved.
But I couldn’t have been more wrong.
The moment I got the call, I’d dropped everything and caught the next flight to Vancouver, where she’d moved the second I’d graduated from high school. Despite everything that had happened over the years—the missed school functions, the forgotten birthdays, the Christmas cards addressed by her assistant, the complete lack of interest in having me in her life—she was still my mother, and she was the only family I had left. And yes, I was a practical person. Maybe even a little too practical, although it was a fine line I walked to keep myself from being as cold as the woman who raised me. Still, I couldn’t help but think that her reaching out meant something.
Of course, I’d been disappointed. Again.
She’d been surprised and not entirely pleased to see me in her hospital room. It had been Fraser who’d reached out. Not her. I should have known.
Still, I stayed with her and even held her hand as she took her final breath a few days later.
I never got an apology or an explanation or…it didn’t matter anymore.
Just like whatever was in the box didn’t matter.
Still…
Before I could talk myself out of it again, I pulled at the tape on the edge. It gave way easily and tore off, leaving the box open and accessible.
There was a note on top.
* * *
I thought you should have these.
* * *
~Fraser
* * *
Odd. They weren’t from my mother at all.
Still, curiosity got the best of me, and I lifted the tissue away to reveal…paintings?
My heart leapt to my throat, making it hard to breathe as I pulled the first canvas from the box. It was a little girl, her back to the artist, her long blonde hair falling down her back, a ratty stuffed cat clutched in her hand as she stared out the window.
It was me.
The next piece was of a young woman; her long hair covered half her face and cast shadows over the other half. Still, there was no mistaking that it was also an image of me in my twenties.
I knew without looking at the signatures in the corner that there was only one person who could have painted them. Still, my eyes searched out the familiar scribble.
P. Donahue.
* * *
My father.
I swallowed hard and propped the paintings up against the wall.
Maybe a little vodka wouldn’t hurt after all.
No sooner were we in the back seat of the town car than her hands were sliding up my thighs.
Apparently, everyone had tried to leave the party at the same time. Either that, or there was some kind of accident or conspiracy keeping me longer than necessary in the back of the private car with the woman who was making no secret of the fact that she would happily help me pass the time until we got back to her apartment.
“You’re so sexy,” Trista murmured against my neck as she trailed her long fingernails through my hair. “But you know what would be even sexier?”
I had a pretty good idea as her fingers started to work at the knot in my tie.
She was a good-looking girl, and those tits…they’d been begging to be released from that dress and put into my hands all night. Which had been my entire plan for the evening.
Take Trista to the party.
And then, take her home.
Where I’d not only get those tits in my hands but in my mouth. Her nipples between my lips, sucking and nibbling until she cried out for more.
Hell, earlier when I’d picked her up and seen her plump, pink lips, the only thing I could picture was having them wrapped around my cock all the way home.
Yes, that had definitely been the plan.
Before.
I closed my eyes as Trista began kissing and sucking on my lips again, and it wasn’t my date’s face that appeared in my imagination. It was Brittany. It was her long blonde hair, released from the tight twist on the back of her head, falling over my face as she kissed me.
It was her bright-red lips wrapped around my cock, her glacial-blue eyes looking up at me while she sucked me off. My fingers wrapped through the silky strands of her hair while I—
“Trent?”
My eyes snapped open to see Trista, who’d succeeded in loosening my tie and had somehow managed to wiggle her skintight dress up over her hips so she could straddle my lap, watching me. Those huge tits, still encased in her dress, were now directly in my face.
I blinked. “Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t hear the question.”
She giggled, certain I’d been distracted by her. And I should have been. Trista was my date. She was here in front of me, ready and willing to do all kinds of dirty things with me with no strings attached. And that’s exactly what I wanted. That was exactly why I liked girls like Trista.
Easy. Uncomplicated. Sexy as hell.
Just because Brittany’s face had appeared in my imagination momentarily, it was nothing more than a product of the fact I’d just seen her. It didn’t mean anything. She was a good-looking woman. And we’d spent time chatting. That was all. It meant nothing.
But I’d spent a lot of time chatting with other good-looking women and never had they taken over my fantasies when I was with another woman. Ever.
Still.
Nothing with Brittany was ever going to happen. But with Trista, I would most certainly get the release I needed. And what was that saying about what’s in front of you…
“I asked if you wouldn’t mind unzipping my dress.” Trista batted her eyelashes and pressed herself down on what was already a throbbing erection in my pants. “It’s just so tight,” she continued, her voice full of promise. “And it’s going to be a long drive.”
My eyes glanced to the privacy shade that had already been put in place by the driver. He wasn’t new.
I shifted my focus back to my date. “Well, we can’t have you being uncomfortable, can we?”
My fingers pulled the zipper down her back before trailing up the smooth skin beneath the fabric. Trista was a beautiful woman, if not a little annoying.
And shallow and young and…
Not at all like Brittany.
I swallowed hard and forced thoughts of the untouchable blonde from my head. She wasn’t here. Trista was here, and she was currently sliding her dress off and—
“You’re gorgeous.” My hands moved instinctively to her breasts the moment she presented them to me.
Trista giggled and lifted her body so her tits were inches from my mouth. I obliged by kissing first one, then the other as Trista’s hands found their way to the bulge in my pants. She moved quickly, unbuckling my belt and sliding the leather free. A moment later, she was in my pants, freeing my hard cock.
I tried. I really did. More than anything, my body wanted the release that Trista promised, but my mind could not focus on the woman in front of me. Even as she shimmied down in the seat and lowered her head to my lap, my thoughts went to Brittany.
Had she taken someone home?
No. She hadn’t been at the party with anyone, and she wasn’t the type to pick up random men. Especially not at a business function.
Trista wrapped her lips around my length and a moan slipped reflexively from my throat.
Did Brittany have a boyfriend? Was there a man in her life who got to have those red lips on his, who got to trace the soft, creamy skin of her neck down between her breasts?
No.
I knew instinctually there was no man in her life.
Still, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. The more I tried to stop, the more she dominated my thoughts.
My cock twitched with Trista’s attentions, but it wasn’t my date who was turning me on.
It was wrong.
“Stop.” I grabbed Trista’s shoulders and pulled her up and off me.
She sat back, almost completely naked with her dress around her waist, her tits bouncing. Her lipstick was smeared and her mouth made a shocked O as she assessed me. “Was I doing something—”
