Faking It with the Frenemy, page 21
I clutch at him, then fumble in trying to unbutton his shirt. I can’t seem to stop, or even slow down. My whole body tingles, my skin tight, like there’s a honeyed lust growing and expanding inside me. I need him. I want to reclaim the man who was my first. Right now.
“You have too many buttons,” I say between kisses.
“I can take care of that.”
Gently pushing my hands out of the way, he grips his shirt and rips it apart. The sound ignites fire in my blood. The heat travels all the way down past my belly and pools between my legs.
Oh God.
Whimpering and unable to wait, I straddle him on the couch, my skirt hiking up. He smooths his large hands down my thighs, leaving trails of fire. The naked desire in his eyes is driving me crazy. There’s an almost uncontrollable urgency to his touch, and it’s intoxicating to know that his need equals mine.
His erection presses against me through my underwear. My mouth fused to his, I grind against him. His breathing grows rougher and he moves against me, pushing away the straps of my dress and unzipping the back, releasing the red satin. My breasts hang free.
“You aren’t wearing a bra,” he whispers, his gaze on them.
“This dress doesn’t look good with one,” I say, glad that after half an hour of earlier debate, I decided whatever and zipped it up sans bra. The stark expression on his face is priceless—and sexy as hell.
“Good thing I didn’t know. I don’t think I would’ve been able to control myself.”
I smile, feeling powerful and wicked at the way he’s looking at me. “Well, they’re all yours now.”
Wyatt makes a sound that’s halfway between a pant and a rumble. He lowers his head, pulling one of my nipples into his hot mouth. I whimper as electric pleasure winds through my core, digging my fingers into his surprisingly soft hair. He closes his free hand around the other breast, brushing against the tip with his thumb. I moan. It’s crazy how amazing this is, how liberating. Maybe it’s because we cleared the air between us, reached an understanding. But whatever it is, I feel safe with him.
He stands up, lifting me in his strong arms and moving down the hall. My heart flutters because I know exactly where we’re going. He takes me to his bedroom and lays me down on his bed. The sheets are cool against my back, and I love how they smell just like him.
I watch him discard his clothes, enjoying every inch of hot, hard masculinity that’s revealed. He’s gorgeous, more powerful and muscled than he looks in clothes. It’s turning me on to realize he’s mine to touch and take. I quickly sit up and I start to toe off my shoes, but he shakes his head.
“Leave ’em on.”
“You have a shoe fetish?” I tease, slightly breathless from anticipation.
“No. I have Kim fetish. And those shoes look amazing on you.”
He kisses me again, slipping his hand between my legs, sliding his fingers along my clit and folds, while he drags my underwear down my legs with the other hand and flings it over his shoulder. Oh God, he’s killing me, I think, as blissful delight pulses through me. I can’t think of a time I was this into sex.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he says, his voice guttural. He presses his thumb against my clit and pushes his finger into my pussy. But it isn’t enough. It’s nowhere near enough, because it isn’t what I want. I want both of us to feel really, really good.
“I want you. Inside me,” I demand. “Right now.”
He leaves me for a moment, reaching for a condom from a drawer on his nightstand. Once he’s fully sheathed, he pushes into me. I gasp at the thick, rigid invasion. He goes still for a moment, his eyes on mine. I smile, letting him know I’m more than fine. Only then does he start moving in and out, and I sigh at the delicious friction. I pull my knees up, holding them in my hands.
He kisses me hard, his thrusts harder and harder, every one creating a new hot wave of bliss.
I arch into him, reveling in the way his control slips a notch, his breathing growing rough, the guttural vibration in his chest. And I don’t try to hide my reaction, wanting him to know exactly how he’s making me feel. Pleasure builds and builds, making it nearly impossible to breathe.
Suddenly, an orgasm breaks over me. My back arches, and my knees slip from my hands. Wyatt’s fingers dig into my ass as he pushes into me one last, straining time. He groans against my neck as he climaxes. I hold him tightly, enjoying the moment when we’re both utterly helpless.
We stay entwined for a bit, clinging to each other. My vision’s a little blurry, and I can’t seem to focus as blood roars in my head. This is the best sex I’ve had since…well, ever. As much as the languid satisfaction turns my muscles to goo, I also sense a bit of vulnerability creeping over me. We both said a lot…did a lot. I wonder if this moment means as much to him as it does to me. Then I shake myself inwardly. What am I? A teenager? It’s very natural for two healthy adults who are attracted to each other to give in to it.
You call that…what? Justification for sleeping with Wyatt and feeling things maybe you shouldn’t?
Wyatt pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around me. I snuggle into him, ignoring the pesky voice in my head.
“Stay here tonight,” he murmurs. “With me.”
My heart stops for a second as a tiny hope stirs inside me that this could turn into more than just…physical fun. I place a hand on his warm, whisker-rough cheek. “Okay.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Wyatt
I wake up when something warm shifts next to me. I tense up for a moment, wondering who it could be. Haven’t shared my bed with anybody in a while, with Geneva and I refusing to use the same room long before the divorce became final. But almost immediately I realize it’s Kim and relax. I prop my head on my knuckles and study her. She looks so peaceful asleep, sweet and… What else am I feeling here? I realize it’s protectiveness. She looks so defenseless and trusting with nothing but the sheet wrapped around her. I want to do everything in my power to keep her safe.
She shifts again, and the sheets twist around some more. We were pretty insatiable last night. We didn’t fall asleep until I’d had four orgasms. I think she came at least ten or twelve times. Or so my ego says.
My dick’s already hard. Ready for number five.
Yeah. That sounds like a great idea, except Kim looks too tired. She said something about needing her sleep after her final climax. Eight hours of sleep or I’m going to turn into a psycho pumpkin witch.
Today’s Sunday. No need to wake her up yet. It’s just the two of us here, and we can afford to be lazy. Have brunch or something. Hang out. She used to like eating popcorn and watching movies. Wonder if she still does. I’d love to hold her on the couch, while she giggles at some joke or gasps at an over-the-top action scene.
I brush my lips over her shoulder, enjoying her softness…and the most amazing scent clinging to her skin. After breathing her in one more time, I get up, brush my teeth and shower. Then I note the bathroom countertop is pretty bare as I dry myself. Won’t Kim need her things in the morning—like lotions and creams? Geneva used like a hundred different types twice a day.
On the other hand, we aren’t in a relationship where we leave stuff like that at each other’s places. Besides, I don’t know if she wants to leave anything here even if we were. The woman lives next door.
Then again, if she were anything like Geneva, I’d say she would, because Geneva hates for people see her without full makeup. Kim isn’t that shallow or obsessed about her looks. If she were, she would’ve done something to get rid of her scar.
But my perverse mind conjures up images of a bathroom full of Kim’s favorite body wash, shampoo, conditioner and bottles and jars of skin lotion and creams anyway.
Whoa. Slow the hell down.
I don’t even know what Kim’s thinking about all this right now. She might just want something casual and simple. She’s obviously devoted to her career, and might not want anything that would distract her from that. And it isn’t like I can just jump into a serious relationship without considering the consequences. I have a kid to think about. Kim and Vi get along well, but that doesn’t mean Vi’s going to be okay with me and Kim dating. Vi’s counselor once said kids can be irrationally contradictory. And she said that includes Vi feeling like I’m trying to replace her mother with another woman when she isn’t ready to cope with that yet. Even though Vi thinks Kim’s pretty damn awesome, she might not feel that way if she thinks Kim and I are dating.
Or…Vi could think that you and Kim together is the best thing ever…
Damn it. I try to pull my thoughts together, which isn’t easy without coffee. But I manage. Vi’s gone for the summer. Kim and I can explore what we have between us for the next few weeks, then figure things out. Not every decision has to be made right now.
I pull a new toothbrush out from the stash of extras and lay it on the counter. When I’m out of the bathroom with the towel around my waist, Kim sits up, her back hunched and her head in her hands. She rubs her eyes, yawning. God, she looks so cute, like a sleepy cat.
“Thought you were going to sleep in,” I say.
She lifts her head and looks at me. “I’ve got to get up. Otherwise I’m going to pay the price tomorrow morning, and I have to go to work.”
The raspy morning huskiness of her voice tugs at my dick. I go over and kiss her. Rolling around in bed counts as getting up, right? I mean, neither of us would actually be sleeping.
Before I can convince her of my brilliant logic, she pulls back, her expression somewhere between dreamy and grumpy. “I need coffee.”
I laugh at how cute she is. “Coming right up. With breakfast.” I can seduce her after I feed her. “Left you a new toothbrush on the bathroom counter.”
She smiles. “Thanks.”
I put on a shirt and shorts and go to the kitchen. Then I start the coffeemaker, lay some bacon strips in the frying pan and take inventory. Not a lot around here that a woman would like for breakfast. There’s a box of cereal, some milk, one small yogurt—something Vi left behind—eggs and cheese. I haven’t been to the store this week. Hopefully Kim’s okay with eggs and bacon. I don’t want to have a mini-argument about it, and having to choke down “calorie-dense” bacon is something Geneva would’ve lost her marbles over.
Kim’s not Geneva.
Right. Gotta keep reminding myself of that.
Kim comes out of the bedroom in one of my dress shirts, sleeves rolled up. The hem stops several inches above her knees, exposing a lot of smooth, shapely leg.
I always thought wearing a man’s shirt was an overly calculated seduction move, because women only do it hoping to look sexy the morning after so they can stick around. But it’s not only hot, it’s intimate. Having a woman put on your clothes in the morning, so she smells like your laundry soap… It’s like she’s living with you, sharing a space and a life.
“Hope you don’t mind,” she says. “I can’t wear my dress again. It’s wrinkled to death.” She takes a stool at the island.
“Don’t mind a bit.” I gesture at the frying pan. “You like bacon?”
“I love bacon.”
Great. I take the strips out of the pan and put them on paper towels, then crack a few eggs into the pan.
Kim says, “That smells so good. I’m starving. I didn’t even get to eat the cake yesterday.” She sounds even grumpier now. “And it looked really good. Probably the nicest thing at the wedding.”
No kidding. And since I’ve just been reminded, I check my phone to make sure everything’s okay with Vi. The latest text from my parents says all’s well. There’s also a screed of messages from Geneva, most sent after two in the morning.
–Geneva: It’s all your fault.
–Geneva: You’re going to pay!
–Geneva: You owe me money!
–Geneva: How am I going to marry Churchill now?
I exhale roughly, anger and pity tugging at me from opposite directions. She was probably drunk and needed to vent. And it’s just like her to blame everyone but herself for her own bad choices.
“What’s wrong?” Kim asks. “Is it Vi?”
I shake my head. “Geneva.”
She arches an eyebrow, so I hand her the phone. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. She’s certifiable.”
“Don’t have to tell me.” I pour a mug of coffee. “How do you like it?”
“With some sugar and cream. But I can manage black.”
I put a dash of sugar and cream in it. I just add sugar to mine, then take both cups to the island.
Kim accepts hers with thanks and wraps her hands around the cup, then takes a sip. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why did you decide to marry her?” She clears her throat, then hurriedly adds, “I’m not judging, but I’m really curious. Mom told me things, but I want to hear from you in case what people are saying isn’t, like, how it happened.”
“It’s sort of stupid.” Talking about it is going to make me feel ridiculous, because the whole marriage was a bad idea. I was just too close to see things clearly.
“We’ve all done…dumb things.”
Yeah, but there’s dumb, and then there’s plain, flat-out dumb.
I take half the bacon off the paper towels and place it on her plate, then load some eggs along with it. The rest goes on mine. I swing myself onto the other stool and bite into a strip.
If anyone but Kim was asking, I’d gloss over the whole issue or just refuse to talk about it. But she deserves to know what happened, especially in light of how low Geneva sank to break us up back then. I take a couple sips of coffee, hoping the caffeine will give me a clear head so I don’t muck up the story of my personal failure.
“Okay. So at first I dated her because she said she wanted me. But I knew we weren’t that well matched. It was a rebound thing.”
Kim nods while chewing slowly, her expression carefully neutral.
“I was thinking about ending it because I knew we weren’t giving each other what we needed. Even back then, she was unhappy, and I wasn’t too thrilled with our situation either. Then she got pregnant.”
“Wow.” Kim’s doing some math in her head, I can tell.
“It was way before I made any real money.” I push the eggs around on my plate.
“Were you angry?” she asks quietly.
“I think I was shocked. If I’d already made that Sweet Darlings deal, I might’ve suspected she did it on purpose, but back then… We were doing okay, but there wasn’t a whole lot of extra cash floating around, if you understand what I’m saying.”
Kim nods. “Yeah.”
“Once the shock wore off, I needed to do the right thing. Single moms aren’t a big deal these days, but let’s just say I can be old-fashioned about some things.”
She reaches over and squeezes my hand. “You just wanted to do what was right for Vi.”
I look at our hands and sigh, feeling a bit of old guilt. “I’m not sure if that’s what I was trying to do. I think back on it sometimes and ask myself if I felt that the pregnancy was messing up my plan to break up with Geneva. It wasn’t until I heard Vi’s heartbeat that she felt like a person to me, a new life I was responsible for, you know? I wonder if Vi knows that, deep inside. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t like me that much.” And as I speak, I realize the sense of guilt has been weighing on my mind for a long time, maybe even before my divorce. And I feel sad, wondering if I’m being dumb and overcompensating somehow, by trying to give her a normal life and all that by insisting on living in a typical middle-class apartment, while sending her off to one of the most exclusive and expensive private schools. A lot of what I’ve done hasn’t been that consistent, and Vi’s smart enough to get that, even if she can’t quite put it into words.
“I doubt Vi feels that way,” Kim says. “She loves you. She just doesn’t know how to express it yet.”
“I hope so.” I smile, wanting Kim to be right and wishing I knew exactly how to show Vi how much I love her in a way she can process. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“You know. Just being understanding and nice.”
“Don’t mention it. I don’t want to see you and Vi hurt because of what Geneva did.”
As she spoons her eggs, her head tilts a little, and I see the scar Geneva gave her. Geneva said it was an accident, but nobody believes she didn’t mean to make Kim trip and fall.
I reach out and gently run my thumb over the jagged line, chin almost to the ear, and she goes still. Then lean over and I kiss it, all the while thinking I don’t want to see Kim hurt by anything.
And I realize the small voice in my head is right. What I feel for Kim goes beyond just a new toothbrush on my counter. I want to see how far we can go together this time.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Kim
I help Wyatt clean up after breakfast, but I really have to get going. I need a fresh set of clothes, not to mention a shower and makeup. But somehow I don’t want to leave him, not even for a second. The sex was fantastic, but the morning after was even better, more intimate and open. I love seeing this new side of him, the vulnerability that makes me want to open up to him in return.
I finish my second cup of coffee and start to put the empty mug in the dishwasher. Then I hear it. A loud, weird noise—something between a whine and a bark.
“What’s that?” I ask with a shudder. The sound is horrific. I might suspect Champ, but Yuna is with him. If something was wrong, she would call.
“I don’t know,” Wyatt answers, looking a little alarmed.
It happens again, and he turns toward the Wall of Unhung Nails. “I think it’s coming from…there?”
Holy cow, Wyatt’s right! Panicked, I grab my purse and dash barefoot to my apartment. I should’ve known better than to just assume Yuna would do a good job taking care of my dog! She probably can’t comb her own hair without an assistant. Anyone born that rich can be helpless about the most basic things.
