Me.
Question after question bounces through my mind.
Why did I like his answer so much? Why did it make my heart hammer in my chest with anticipation? Why does the idea of Foster and me not terrify me?
What if…what if we didn’t pretend anymore?
I shake my head, wanting to slap myself, because let’s be honest here—I haven’t been pretending for a single second.
Every moment I spend with Foster is real. It’s me being me, him being him. This isn’t pretend. It’s just prolonging the inevitable.
And that excites me more than it scares me.
I’m in such a haze, my breaths coming in sharp spurts, feeling disoriented and confused, that I run smack into the door.
I grab the handle, twisting and turning as I try to get it to open because I need to not be here right now. I need—
I freeze the moment he steps into the small space.
I don’t have to turn around; I know it’s him.
I can feel it. My body feels it, my fingertips tingling with the desire to touch his skin again, lips burning to press against his.
He steps into me, his body fitting perfectly to mine.
How is that possible? How can I already feel him everywhere?
“I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Fright. That’s what I was feeling.
I’m scared.
I don’t want things between us to change, and the moment we throw more than kisses into the mix, that’s exactly what we’re going to do.
I don’t know if I’m ready for that.
“Foster, I—”
“Don’t say anything. Please. I don’t need you to say anything. I know when you’re ready, it’ll happen.”
He steps closer, and I have nowhere to go except forward, the side of my face now flush with the door. My heavy breaths are making streaks on the cool wood and I can feel all of him pressing against me.
I’m stuck between the door and his body and there isn’t anywhere else in the world I’d rather be.
“I know you. I know you’re scared. I know you don’t want things to change between us, but they already have changed. We can’t go back to the way things were before. I can’t walk away knowing how good your lips taste.”
His fingers slide through my long blonde hair, pushing it out of the way.
“How good you feel underneath me.”
His fist tangles in my locks, pulling my head back with a pressure that’s too pleasurable to be painful.
“How alive you make me feel.”
Lips collide with my ear and a shiver racks through my body.
“But, Wren?”
I don’t say anything. I can’t.
“It will happen.”
It’s not a question or a statement.
It’s a promise.
“Fuck.” He runs his nose down the length of my neck. “Why’d you wear a fucking turtleneck, huh?”
I laugh, loving how he’s complaining about my outfit in this moment. “You said to wear a skirt. You didn’t say anything about what kind of top you wanted me to wear.”
“That’s right. I did say a skirt.”
His free hand slides over my ass, giving it a good squeeze before he slowly—so painfully slowly—walks his fingers under my velvet mini.
“Holy fuck,” he hisses when his hand glides over my skin. “You’re not wearing any underwear.”
He presses his hand between my thighs.
“Up on your tiptoes, Wren. I need to touch you.”
Not want. Need.
I need him to touch me too.
I follow his instructions and push up on the balls of my feet, thrusting my hips back and spreading my legs, practically begging for him to touch me.
It’s just the invitation he needs.
The pads of his fingers slide over my swollen clit and I have never been so close to the edge of bliss with such a simple touch before.
“Oh hell,” I whimper. “Foster…”
“Don’t you fucking ‘Foster’ me right now. I’m two seconds from stripping these tights from your body and shoving my tongue between your thighs. I don’t give a shit who sees us.”
I almost forgot we’re in public.
I almost forgot because I don’t care.
I need this right now. The pressure of his touch…the gentle brush of the pantyhose…it’s bliss.
He rubs circles over my most sensitive spot, his thumb brushing against my ass cheeks with every movement. I press back, loving the unexpected zing of pleasure coming from the contact.
Somehow knowing just what I want, he adds more pressure, his thumb pushing between my cheeks until he finds that spot no one else has ever touched before.
It’s enough to finally send me over the edge.
My legs begin to quake, my breaths cease to exist. I fall apart on his fingers.
He lets out another harsh breath, his forehead pressed against my temple. I can feel his hard length pressing against me still.
“Fuck me. You’re trying to kill me. I know it.”
He slowly drags his fingers away from my body and I want to cry out, want to beg him to keep touching me forever.
But I don’t. I can’t.
I couldn’t talk right now if I tried, my throat too dry.
“You’re fucking perfect, Wren. Every part of you is perfect.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he doesn’t let me, crushing his mouth to mine in a searing kiss.
“Don’t argue with me. I’m not in the mood to argue.”
“W-What are you in the mood for?”
“You.” He presses into me again before taking a miniscule step back. “But I’m not going to fuck you for the first time in a club. Instead, I’m going to take you back out on that dance floor and swing you around and buy you drinks until you forget all about the crummy day you’ve had. Then I’ll take you home and drop you off like the fucking gentleman I am because I won’t take advantage of a drunk you.”
“But you are going to fuck me?”
His grip on my blonde locks tightens for just a moment, like he’s warring with himself to let me go.
He does, his fingers sliding down my back, gliding across my body then lifting just before he hits my ass.
“Yes. Not until you’re ready though. Not until you’re sure you want this the way I want it. Because once I get a taste of you, that’s it for me. Until then, I’ll wait. You’ll give in soon enough.”
“How can you be so certain?”
Without warning, he spins me toward him, piercing me with his intense stare. He lifts my hand to his chest, fanning my fingers out over his heart.
“Because you and I, Wren—we’re bound to happen. Whether you want it or not, you have a piece of my heart, and I don’t want it back.”
* * *
“You’re telling me he basically finger-fucked you and put it in your butt in the middle of The Lounge and you haven’t married his ass yet?” She points toward the door. “Get out.”
“You’re kicking me out of my own shop?”
“Yes! Because you’re clearly insane.”
I heave a sigh, gathering the foil strips from my last color and walking them to the trash.
It’s been almost seventy-two hours since I’ve seen or heard from Foster. Not that I’m counting or anything.
He did exactly what he promised he’d do. We danced. We drank. We got a ride home. He walked me to my front door, kissed me good night, and sent me on my way.
And that was that.
A part of me is thankful for the break. My head is so muddled and confused right now that I could use the perspective.
But…I miss him. And not just his touch—him.
I miss him making me laugh. I miss the way he looks at me, like I’m the only person in the room. I miss the way he makes me feel…what did he say the other night?
Alive.
I miss feeling alive.
“It’s complicated, Drew.”
“The only complication I can see is that you don’t want to get out of your own damn head long enough to see that the boy is head over heels in love with you.”
“Right, buuuut…” I draw the word out as I climb onto the couch in the small waiting area where Drew’s been camped out for hours now. “He just got divorced, which means all these years he’s been in love with me, he’s also been sleeping in someone else’s bed.”
“Is that your hang-up?”
“Yes and no.”
“Then explain yourself, woman. I’m not getting any damn younger over here.”
“Ugh,” I groan, running my hand through my hair, wishing it were Foster’s hand instead.
And there my body goes wanting him again.
“You know, I’d kill for a man to want me like he wants you.”
“Things not going well with Chadwick?” I hope she doesn’t catch the hopefulness in my voice.
“We, uh, we broke up.” She doesn’t meet my eyes when she says this, which is very unlike her. Drew doesn’t beat around the bush about anything.
“Spill.”
“What?”
“Don’t BS me, Drew Amanda Woods. There’s something going on but you’re not telling me. So spill.”
“I’m too scared to say it out loud.”
“Why?”
“Because it makes it real.”
Her eyes are brimming with unshed tears, and I immediately go to her, wrapping her in my arms.
“What’s going on, Drew? You can tell me anything, you know that.”
She doesn’t say anything for a while, just hugs me.
I let her.
I feel her tremble as she begins to cry, but I don’t say anything, giving her time to let it all out.
After several moments, she snuffles and pulls away from me, pushing her hair out of her face and wiping away the tears.
“Sorry.” She sniffles and laughs lightly. “My hormones are all out of whack right now.”
“Period?”
A small smile curves her lips up and she shakes her head. “I don’t think I’ll be worrying about that for the next several months.”
My mouth drops open. “You’re pregnant!”
She nods, trying to keep her smile in place, but it crumbles, more tears pouring from her eyes.
“I’m fucking pregnant and my stupid-ass baby daddy left me when he found out.”
“Oh, Drew.” I hold her to me again. “It’s going to be just fine. I promise. We’ll figure this out together.”
For some reason, this makes her cry even harder.
I squeeze her tighter, sitting here with her until she’s out of tears.
She swipes at her cheeks. “Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing, you nut.”
“Sorry.” She grins. “I’m so happy you didn’t leave me stranded on the side of the road, Wren.”
“I’m so happy you stalked me and made me be your friend.”
She gives herself a shake, retrieving her water sitting on the table and chugging half the bottle. “Okay, phew. Enough about me. Let’s talk about Foster.”
I groan and throw myself back on the couch. “Let’s not. Let’s talk about how your baby daddy is a complete and total dick and we’re going to castrate him. That sounds so much more interesting.”
“We’ll get to that later.” She waves me off. “Come on. Tell me what’s holding you back, besides the whole being recently divorced thing.”
“It’s… Well, he’s Foster, you know. He’s my best friend.”
“That’s it.” She stands, shoving her sleeves up. “I’m fighting him.”
“You’re pregnant.”
“Pregnant, but I can still kick his ass. You’re my best friend.”
I laugh and pull her back down to the couch. “While you could totally take him, sit your ass down. We’ll work out a plan to castrate him too.”
She holds her fist out for mine. “Bump on it.”
I do, laughing.
“Anyway,” I continue, “we have an amazing friendship. We always have. I don’t want to screw that up.”
“I get that,” she says. “But—and hear me out on this—he’s been in love with you for years now and it hasn’t been weird. It’s been normal between you two, right?”
“Correct. Things only started getting…intense when he moved back to town.”
“Because he’s grown up. Because you’ve grown up. He’s not that same Foster who left, and you’re not the same Wren he left. It’s okay that you’re attracted to him now.”
“Is it though? Shouldn’t I not want to go there because of our past?”
“I’ll say it again: if I had someone who looked at me the way that boy looks at you, I’d go anywhere he wanted to go. I knew he was into you before I even knew who he was.”
“Bull.”
“Bull my ass,” she huffs. “He was watching you in the dining area.”
“No he wasn’t. He was on a date.”
She rolls her eyes. “Please. I’ve seen more chemistry between inanimate objects than there was between those two. Sure, they were on a date, but Foster had zero interest in her.”
“Then why, if he was so into me, go on all those dates? Hell, why run off and get married?”
“He got married because he was trying to be a good man. You’re not allowed to hold that against him. As for the dates, he was doing what he’d been doing for years—trying to forget he’s in love with you.”
“But why not just tell me?”
She gives me that duh look. “He did, and you friend-zoned his ass.” She shrugs. “Can’t blame a guy for actually listening when a woman speaks and moving on with his life.”
“I—”
“I’m right. Don’t even think about trying to argue otherwise.”
I snap my mouth shut.
Is that what happened? Did all of this happen because I wouldn’t listen to him? Did we waste years of our lives because I was so wrapped up in me and my woes that I didn’t take the time to hear him?
“Go ahead. Say it,” she pushes. “You did it and you didn’t even realize you did.”
“I did.” I wince. “Does this mean all his struggles with Layla are my fault?”
“No, you dumbass. That’s all on him and her. It has nothing to do with you. Those are his mistakes. It just means you could have had him sooner. But, maybe this is exactly how it was supposed to work out. Maybe now you’re ready for each other. Older. Wiser. Hornier.”
I burst out a laugh. “That last one is so true, especially when it comes to him. He makes me feel…I don’t know. Sexy? Yeah. He makes me feel sexy even when I’m not trying to be, and the other night…” I fan my face. “It was so hot, Drew. Easily the hottest thing to ever happen to me.”
“And you didn’t bang him because…?”
“Because he was trying to be a gentleman. I mean, I would have let him take me home right then, but he wants me to be ready, wants to be sure I want the same things he does.”
“Do you?”
Leave it to Drew to put it all out there like that.
“I…I don’t know yet.”
She regards me for a moment, her hazel eyes burning through me. “Can I say something?”
I grin. “I love how you just pretended to ask permission to stick your nose into my business.”
“Stop thinking of the past. Stop thinking of who you were. Think of who you are and who you could be. And for fuck’s sake, stop pretending. Just be.”
“You say it like it’s so easy.”
“Oh, no.” She laughs sardonically. “Honey, there is nothing easy about love. That’s the fun part.”
Slice Sixteen
Foster
“Yo, Winston, you got a minute?”
It’s been days since I’ve seen Wren, but she’s been on my mind almost constantly.
Not just because I can’t stop thinking about how fucking heavenly she felt coming apart on my fingers, but because of how troubled she is by the p
ossibility of losing her business.
I have to help her. She’ll probably be pissed if she ever finds out, but I can’t sit by and not do a damn thing about it.
Winston grins and settles into the chair he’s occupying, spreading his legs and getting comfortable. “This is gonna be good.”
I flit my eyes to Sully, who’s leaned against the sliding back door staring out at the tempestuous ocean.
“He’s good,” Winston says. “He’s probably not even listening to us.”
“He’s not.” Sully doesn’t turn to us when he speaks. “But I can leave if it makes you feel more comfortable.”
“You know what? Nah, you’re good.” I take a seat on my bed—AKA Winston’s couch—and inhale a deep breath, ready to finally spill my guts. “I’m not broke.”
He lights a joint and brings it to his lips, inhaling.
“Okay,” he says through the cloud of smoke filtering from his lungs.
No shock, no anger.
No real reaction at all.
“Okay? That’s it?”
“Yeah. I mean, congrats on being loaded, man, but I don’t know how that affects me at all.”
“I’ve been sleeping on your couch for over a month, not paying you anything for it, and you’re just super chill about it.”
“Yeah. You’re my best friend. I don’t give a shit if you stay here. Sully doesn’t pay rent either, but he’s a total freeloader.”
Sully grunts at the insult.
Guess he is listening after all.
“So what’s up? Why you telling me this shit now?”
“Well, I was saving my money for a down payment on my own place, but my credit is absolute shit right now from the divorce and Layla fucking me in the not-so-fun way.”
“Let me guess”—he grins at me—“you want to give it to Wren for her place.”
“Yes.”
“Save your breath. I tried with my payout from the accident. She wouldn’t budge on it.”
“I figured, but…”
“You thought since she’s in love with you she might let you help.”
“She’s in love with me?”
He shoots me a look, laughing, but ignores my question. “I don’t think she’ll go for it.”
A Pizza My Heart Page 16