by Lynda Aicher
His smile was slow and almost predatory. “Why did you stay when you could’ve turned right around and left?”
She sucked in a breath, trapped. A subtle triumph flashed over his expression, and she had her answer. He did it because he enjoyed it. He wanted to and he could.
But could she? Intentionally?
Probably not.
Some values were too ingrained—at least for her.
She rolled her eyes, head shaking as a defeated puff of laughter shot free. “I don’t think it’s for me,” she told him, sliding from her seat. Her leg grazed his again. Everything in her urged her to climb into his lap and let him carry her away.
But would she be damning herself for a few moments of pleasure?
She snaked her coat from the back of the chair, stepping away before she gave in to impulse.
He stayed seated, expression neutral. She couldn’t think about what that meant. She grabbed her bag from the floor and turned to the door.
“The offer’s open if you change your mind.”
She froze, eyes squeezing shut. Her grip tightened around her bag, want demanding she turn around. That she take the risk—just this once.
She gave a single nod before she strode from the restaurant. Risk had its limits, and she had reached hers. At least, that was what she told herself.
Chapter Six
Two weeks later, Avery was still questioning her decision to walk away from Carson’s offer. She trudged up the stairs to her condo, mind stuck at the office. And not because of the work waiting for her there.
Her groan echoed up the stairwell, the frustration smacking back at her. “What am I doing?”
She hitched her bag higher and tried to shove her thoughts back. Way back. Like into forgotten territory. Not that it’d worked, yet.
Her door gave a squeak when she shoved it open. Flip and Flop met her at the door, their tiny cat cries announcing her late arrival for their dinner.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, bending to pet them both. She’d rescued the pair right after she’d moved into this place. Flip was a black-and-orange calico who liked to turn in circles, while her sister was a soft golden fluff ball who preferred to lounge in the sun. “I thought Karen would be home to feed you.”
“Karen is home,” her roommate said from the living room. “But you’re out of cat food. Didn’t you get my text?”
“Crap,” Avery mumbled, straightening. She dug her phone from her purse, and sure enough, there was Karen’s text sent two hours ago. The proof of her distraction stared back at her. “I missed it.”
“Do you want me to run to the store?” Karen glanced at her as she went to the kitchen, a dirty plate in her hand. The open floor plan optimized the cramped space, while the sliding glass doors to the small deck let in a large amount of natural light.
“No.” Avery hung her coat on the hook by the door and kicked her heels off. Her sigh was loud as relief swarmed her pinched toes. “I’ll go. Just let me change.” Her heels weren’t going back on now that they were off.
Karen cocked her hip and crossed her arms over her chest. She flicked her chin at Avery. “Tell you what. I’ll run to the market and get the cat food while you change. Then you can take me to the Uphill for a beer.”
Another audible sigh gusted out. “Deal. Thank you.” She smiled her appreciation and silently thanked the roommate gods for sending Karen her way. They’d met at Avery’s first job in San Francisco and had remained friends after they’d both been laid off from the fizzling start-up.
“Excellent.” Karen grabbed her purse. “I’ll be back in ten.” She snatched the twenty Avery held out as she passed. Her short hair was spiked into a wild array of messy-chic that matched her multi-colored leggings and black oversize dress shirt.
“Get the orange bag,” Avery called.
“I know.” The faint reply reached her before the door slammed shut.
Avery winced. Her neighbor would undoubtedly complain again. Luck and a friend-of-a-friend connection had given her an in to the building that was otherwise occupied by people far more successful and mostly older than herself. The views, deck and location more than made up for the lack of square-footage and any snobbery pointed her way.
They walked into their local bar thirty minutes later, a welcomed blast of stale beer hitting her. She blinked, eyes adjusting to the dim lighting as she scanned for a seat. A baseball game blared from a TV over the bar. Six other flat-screens scattered around the room all had a game of some sort on. The place was crowded for a Wednesday, but then it usually was.
“Over here.” Karen grabbed her arm and dragged her to a booth that was just being vacated. The couple had barely stepped away before Karen slid onto the bench and started to stack their dirty dishes at the edge of the table.
Avery thanked the couple and sat across from her roommate. She was used to Karen’s boldness by now, but none of it had syphoned off on Avery.
“The usual?” their waiter asked as he stacked the dishes onto his tray. Henry flashed a grin, a dimple pocketing his cheek. The sugary cuteness was offset by the nose ring, three brow piercings and the tattoo sleeve.
“Yes, please,” Karen chimed. “And a basket of tater tots.”
“Can I get the chopped salad, too?” Avery asked, like he’d say no.
“Got it.” He was gone without a note taken.
Karen’s gaze lingered on him as he wound his way through the tables to the kitchen. Avery knew what was coming even before the words were out. “Why are the hot ones gay?”
“They’re not,” she insisted. There was no way Carson was gay. Possibly bi, but he was definitely hot and into women. Or he’d seemed into her.
And she’d walked away.
Karen whipped her head around, brows winging up. “Oh?” She crossed her arms on the table and leaned in expectantly. “Do tell.”
The urge to purge every detail sat on Avery’s tongue, but she swallowed it back. She’d signed a contract. Could she explain without being specific? “There are a number of men in my office who are hot,” she hedged. “And I’m positive they’re not all gay.”
Karen sat back, mouth twisting in disappointment. She waved off Avery’s answer. “I thought you were finally eyeing up a guy.”
“I look all the time.” She did. It’d just been a while since she’d done more than that. She’d outgrown the one-night-stand thing after arriving in the Bay Area. The random aspect hadn’t felt safe when she had no one to worry about her, and it’d lost its appeal after she’d acquired friends.
“You dumped John over a year ago.”
“Yup.” It was closer to two, but her friend didn’t need the additional ammo.
Confusion wrinkled Karen’s brow. “Don’t you miss sex?”
“I get it all the time,” Henry said, winking at Karen. He set their beers on the table, leaning down. “And it’s fantastic.”
Karen barked out a laugh, hand slapping the table. Avery could only gape as he retreated, an added cockiness to his walk.
“I need to find a man like that,” Karen said. “Minus the gay thing.”
“Yeah,” she mumbled before taking a long hit of her beer. She closed her eyes and simply enjoyed the cold relief as it slid down her throat. Wine did not compare.
Their food was served, the empty plates removed, their third round half-finished before Avery found a segue into the conversation she shouldn’t have but wanted anyway. “Are you still seeing Greg?”
“You mean Craig?” Karen was slumped in the booth, a sleepy smile on her face. Avery nodded. “No. He was cute, but the spark wasn’t there.”
“You say that a lot.”
“Because it’s true.”
Avery couldn’t argue that. She’d stopped dating more than one guy for the same reason. And then there was Carson. Her pulse sped up just thinking about him.
She’d tried to avoid him at work, but it seemed like he was always around. In Gregory’s office, passing in the hallway or in a meeting. She was instantly aware of him when he was near, even if he was on the other side of the lobby. He didn’t approach her or act differently, but she knew more now. About him. About what he did. What he wanted.
And that changed how she viewed him. It wasn’t negatively either.
“Have you—” Avery stopped. Took a drink.
“Have I what?”
Just put it out there. “Have you ever had group sex?”
Karen’s brows shot up, but that was her only reaction. “Hasn’t everyone?” She frowned. “At least once?”
“No!” God. Her naïvety was showing more than normal. “I mean...well, I haven’t.”
“Why not?”
“Why?”
A wicked grin curled over Karen’s lips. “Because it’s fun.” Her sultry tone insinuated how much she’d enjoyed it.
Wow. Avery looked away, shocked but not. Karen was from Southern California and had arrived in San Fran with few inhibitions and an even freer attitude. She’d broadened Avery’s horizons on so many things. From gay and women’s rights, to personal choice, to racial inequality. Karen didn’t hesitate to talk about her sex life, including how often she masturbated, a topic Avery shut down as TMI. But Karen was the one who’d taken Avery to her first sex store and recommended a vibrator—her first.
Now that, she was damn grateful for.
“Hey.” Karen kicked her under the table to get her attention. Avery jerked up, scowling as she tucked her legs back. Karen smiled, chin flicking up. “What’s going on?”
Nothing. Everything. Possibly...
Avery dropped her head into her hands, a tortured moan grinding out. “I don’t know. I’m so confused and have no idea what to do.” The alcohol coupled with the burning need to unload set her tongue free. “I want to do it, but I’m scared of what could happen. He said it’s safe and I signed a contract and it should be fine, but what if it isn’t? What if it disgusts me? What if it’s a trick or awful game and I’m the joke? What—”
“Whoa.” Karen jerked one of Avery’s hands away, forcing her to look up. Her scowl didn’t deter Karen. “Wait a minute. Back up and explain.”
Avery pulled back, regret already hitting her. She closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing, which was coming way too fast.
“Avery,” Karen coaxed. “What’s going on? You’re worrying me.”
Over nothing. This was nothing. She was making it into something when it shouldn’t be.
“So umm,” Karen started. “You mentioned a contract. Are we talking BDSM here?”
“What?” Her eyes flew open. “No.” Right? He hadn’t said anything about that. But... “At least I don’t think so. No,” she quickly corrected, head shaking with her insistence. “It’s not that.” The woman’s hands had been bound, but that wasn’t whips and leather and spankings.
Karen studied her, eyes narrowed. “Then what is it?” She leaned in, an evil glint shining. “Do I need to kick someone’s ass?”
Avery’s laugh had a dry and pathetic edge to it. She took a sip of beer, the lukewarm brew no longer satisfying. She wasn’t a thirty-year-old virgin, for Christ’s sake, yet she was acting like it. Why?
Because she was afraid.
To try. To explore. Of her own reaction. Of what others would think of her. Of doing something that most would consider wrong—like her parents.
“No,” she finally answered. “No ass-kicking needed—except mine, maybe.”
“All right.” Karen sat back and rubbed her hands together before flexing her fingers. “Tell me why so I can judge how hard I need to hit.”
Avery’s laughter was lighter this time, her smile genuine. “Thank you.” This was exactly what she needed.
“No problem. Now—” Karen motioned with her hand “—spill.”
But how much could she say before it was too much? “So...” She took a deep breath, released it, shoving back her embarrassment. “I’ve been...” Offered? No. “I have an...” Opportunity? Kind of, but that sounded weird. “If you had a chance to...explore—” yes, that’s it “—a sexual desire in a safe environment, would you?”
Karen frowned. “Is that a trick question?”
Avery shook her head.
“Hell yes.” Karen shot her a look that said exactly how silly she thought the question was. “Why wouldn’t you?”
It all came back to fear.
Avery shrugged, unable to meet Karen’s knowing gaze. This was exactly how she’d expected Karen to respond, which was probably why it’d taken her so long to bring the topic up.
“Okay. Wait a minute.” Her friend leaned in, arms crossed on the table, intent. “Is it legal?” Avery nodded. “And you said it was safe, right?” Another nod. “And you’re interested in it?” She had to swallow, her nod slower. “So, what’s wrong?”
Carson.
He was so damn...everything. She could get lost in him, but she couldn’t. He’d laid out that rule with clarity. He wasn’t interested in a relationship outside of the Boardroom. “I don’t know if I can do ‘just sex.’” The admission sounded hokey even to her. “I mean, I’ve had one-night stands before, but I’ve never gone sober, premeditated, into one.” This was completely different than a drunken oops.
“And that scares you.” Karen didn’t leave it as a question.
Of course she got that.
“Argh!” Avery dropped her head to the table, tapping her forehead on it over and over. “I don’t know.” If she could just own her denial, she wouldn’t be this confused. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was missing out on something really important. An opportunity she’d never get again—even if she ended up hating it.
But she really didn’t believe she’d hate it. That was one of the issues.
She wanted to watch again. She wanted to feel that rush, experience that passion—with Carson.
Her stomach twisted and flipped at that admission. Her nights had been flooded with images of him behind her, touching her, directing her to watch as he told the couple on the table what to do.
God. She swallowed, her legs clamping together to contain the ache that sprang to life. Her hands fisted, desire urging her to give in. Why was she holding out anyway?
Because the values instilled in her since childhood said it was wrong.
And her parents would never know.
But she would.
“Hey.” Karen nudged her leg again. Avery didn’t move. “What’s the risk involved?”
“Minimal. Or so I’ve been promised,” she said to the table. As long as no one else from Faulkner ever found out. Could she demand that?
“So it’s your own issues that are stopping you.”
When had her roommate gotten so smart? “Yes.”
The realization of how foolish she must look with her head on the table finally had Avery sitting up. A gusted sigh broke free when she saw Karen’s smirk. Avery attempted to scowl at her but failed, a smile breaking out instead. Damn her.
Karen motioned for the tab when Henry walked by, then shifted that knowing look back to her. Speculation mixed with amusement showed so clearly. Avery was tempted to toss her beer on her, but she only shook her head and glowered.
“It seems,” Karen started, “that you either need to get over your hang-ups, or accept them.” Avery barely held back a “duh.” Karen puffed out a laugh. “Apparently, you needed to hear that from someone besides yourself.”
Truth. Damn it. She heaved a sigh and gave up on her sulk. It was pointless anyway.
They split the bill and walked back to their place. The air was chilly, the wind whipping up the hill to spread the salty ocean scent. Karen didn’t push her further, and Avery was grateful for that. This was her decision
to make even if a part of her wished someone would do it for her.
But she was an adult and she’d resent anyone who did decide for her. That was another problem. Choice was a bitch sometimes.
Her thoughts still spun when she settled into bed, and Carson was in the center of them all. Would she ever get him out of her system? Did she want to?
Not really. And that was the biggest problem.
Chapter Seven
Carson ignored the soft tap on his office door, his focus deep within the code string. If he could just figure out how to—
“Excuse me, Carson.”
He jerked up at the soft voice, head whipping around to stare at his open doorway. His heart skipped, hope and lust urging it into a quickened beat. Avery Fast stood there. A rust-colored wrap dress hugged her curves before it flared at her waist. Her hair was pulled back into a low side-ponytail that allowed the blond ends to curl against the floral scarf wrapped around her neck.
A slow smile spread that he didn’t try to stop. Her posture was tense, lips compressed, but she didn’t look away from him. No, her gaze was direct, almost challenging. Why?
“Yes, Avery?” He kept his voice even.
She glanced back before taking a step into his office. “Do you have a moment?”
A whisper of victory snaked in to tease him. He shut it down and swiveled his chair to give her his full attention. “What can I help you with?”
She came closer, her hands clasped before her. Not submissive really but respectful. Or nervous. She glanced at the visitor chairs before his desk. His suit jacket hung from the back of one of them, but the other was free. She looked back to him, her lips compressing.
She’d avoided him since their meeting three weeks back, and he’d respected that space. Had he created a few reasons to see Gregory? Maybe. But he’d remained professional. She didn’t deserve to be harassed, especially by him.
“Is your offer still open?” Her words were low and quick.
His eyes narrowed, head tilting as he processed her question. The lust kicked in a second later. She didn’t sit nor break eye contact, but that red tinge was spreading over her cheeks to give him his answer. She was referring to their private discussion. He’d almost given up on that.