Pretty Ever After (Chicago Nights Book 3)

by Tabatha Kiss

  Melanie mounts me. She reaches down, yanking the band of my slacks aside to take hold of my cock. She strokes me in her palm, but I’m already rock hard and dripping from the tip.

  She impales herself without a word. I grip her hips, pulling her down until I’m balls deep inside.

  “Fuck,” I say.

  Melanie chuckles, her hands on my face again. She kisses me hard, masterfully rolling her hips and riding me as her tongue caresses mine. One swift glide rocks me in and out and I groan because I can’t do anything else.

  I sit back, watching as she works my shaft. Her body trembles, muscles burning and aching and twitching for more of me. She positions herself back, resting her hands on my knees as she pumps her body up and down.

  I touch her body. I feel her breasts and curves over her shirt. My balls clench, signaling the point of no return. I dig my fingers into her sides and pull her back down, pushing myself as deep inside as possible. Melanie kisses me with smiling lips, triumphantly claiming my groans as she brings me to climax. My sensitive tip screams with each glide, but the pleasure is just too fucking good.

  “That’s my boy,” she whispers, her lips pressed against mine.

  I wrap my arms around her and she stops swaying, but my cock stays firmly inside of her. I embrace her. I caress her. I taste the sweetness of her lips. I smell the filthiness of sex and sweat on both of us. I fight the natural urge to breathe in favor of kissing her until it seems like we both might pass out.

  Then she smiles. She gently combs her fingers through my hair. She looks tired, but happy. Genuinely happy, more so than I’ve seen since before we broke up for good.

  But it wasn’t for good, was it?

  She’s back. We’re back and better than it was in the beginning… before I fucked it up.

  I won’t do that again.

  I promise, Mel.

  Fifteen

  Robbie

  “I was right,” I say as I sit back and reach for my tool bag.

  “No, you weren’t.”

  I glance at Melanie across my bedroom. She lounges on the chair next to the door with a spare notebook of mine balanced on her crossed legs. My mattress lies nearby, propped on its side near the window behind me as I inspect my now broken bed frame. Not the first time Melanie and I have broken a bed.

  Hopefully not the last.

  She looks up and winces. “Sorry,” she says. “Habit. What were you right about?”

  I grab a box of random-sized screws stuffed near the bottom of the bag. “Broken screw,” I say. “It’s an easy fix.”

  She huffs. “Bummer.”

  “Bummer?” I ask.

  “Kinda hoped you’d have to, like... lift things more or... hammer something.”

  I raise a brow. “Oh, yeah?”

  “You’re not even breaking a sweat. It’s a little disappointing, that’s all I’m saying.”

  I rise off the floor, pinching the bottom of my t-shirt as I move. I drag it over my head and toss it away. Melanie chuckles as I flex in all the right areas in nothing but my jeans.

  “Better?” I ask.

  “Such a handy man,” she says.

  “I do my best, ma’am.” I raise my drill and tap the trigger at her twice before kneeling by the bed frame. “How’s that chapter coming along?” I ask.

  Melanie sighs. “Not great, actually.”

  “Am I... too distracting for you?”

  I flex again. She smiles.

  “In a way,” she answers. “I can’t get over your note from the other day.”

  “Which one?”

  “Why does she even like this guy?” she quotes.

  “So, why does she even like the guy?” I ask again.

  She throws up her hands. “I don’t know! If I were this girl, I’d hate him forever,” she says, glaring at the notebook. “Wondering if I should just toss the whole thing and start over.”

  “No, don’t do that,” I say. “We’ll figure it out.”

  “We will?”

  “Sure.”

  “How?”

  I smirk. “Trust me. I’m the master of making women who hate me fall in love with me.”

  I nearly regret it the second it leaves my lips. I turn to check her reaction, and hopefully block the notebook probably flinging toward my forehead, but Melanie smiles as we make eye contact.

  “You’re right,” she says.

  A chill rolls down my back.

  “I am?” I ask.

  “She doesn’t have to like him,” she muses, her eyebrows coming together in thought, “but she does have to need him. Maybe... no... or... yeah, that!” She twitches as she speaks, chasing the invisible plot bunny. “Or how about... no? Wait...” She falls back, annoyed. “No, that won’t work.”

  I laugh. “God, I missed that.”

  Melanie pauses. “What?”

  “That spastic thing you do when you plot.”

  She looks down, hiding the blush filling her cheeks.

  I focus on my bed again, quickly finding the right-sized screw and drill bit I need. The drill hums loud enough to fill the silent void in the room between us. As the screw finds its place and the room goes quiet again, I stand up and nod.

  “All done,” I say.

  Melanie nods. “Good work.”

  I step toward the window for my mattress. “Thanks,” I say.

  “So, what’s that mean?”

  I pause, unsure which part of our conversation she’s referring to. “What?” I ask, playing it safe.

  “The tattoo,” she says, pointing at my ribs. “With the notches and colors.”

  “Oh,” I say, glancing at it. “It’s for my sobriety. One line for each month. First month red. Second month gold.”

  “Third month green,” she says, staring at it.

  “Figure I’d get twelve months in and play it by ear.”

  Melanie nods, impressed. “You were serious about it, then.”

  I grab the mattress, carefully hoisting it off the floor and taking it back to the bed. “Still am,” I say.

  She smiles for only a second before that heavy cloud drifts over her again. I let the mattress drop onto the bed frame, but I don’t bother straightening it out just yet.

  “What?” I ask.

  Her head shakes, confused. “What?”

  “Something’s bothering you.”

  “No,” she says, shaking her head. “Nothing’s bothering me.”

  “You’re nervous.”

  “I… have nothing to be nervous about.”

  I raise a brow, knowing better.

  “Okay, I’m a little nervous,” she says.

  “About what?”

  “Promise me you won’t take this the wrong way.”

  I smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  She hesitates before letting the notebook slide off her lap onto the chair. “I am so very proud of you, Robbie.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You know that, right?”

  “I do.”

  “I honestly can’t express how much seeing you like this means to me.” She takes a breath as her eyes fall to the tattoo again. “But all of this feels very… temporary.”

  “On the contrary,” I say. “Tattoos are very permanent.”

  “I don’t mean the tattoo.”

  I nod, dropping the jokes. “Yeah, I know.”

  She glances into a dark corner of the room. “It feels like I will wake up tomorrow to an empty bed and the distant sound of you cracking open a six-pack in the kitchen. I hate that my mind goes there, but I can’t help it.”

  “Because we’ve been here before,” I say.

  “Yeah, we have.”

  “I told you I was serious about it when I really wasn’t. I lied to you, on purpose, because I was too stubborn to admit I had a problem.”

  Melanie deflates. “Remember how we weren’t going to rehash this?”

  “No, I think we should get it out,” I say. “Otherwise, it’ll fester and we’ll go righ
t back to avoiding how we really feel and neither of us will be happy.”

  She blinks with hesitation, her lips pressed firmly together.

  I nudge the mattress into place before sitting down on the edge and facing Melanie. “I’m sorry. I wish I could say that for every time I lied to you, but we’d probably never leave this room again and it’s not like I can remember all of them anyway, so hopefully once is enough. And I know that once won’t be enough to win back your trust, only honesty can do that, so here goes…” I rub my palms on my jeans. “You’re right to be nervous. The truth is, the urge to drink is still there. Every day. Having you here makes it better, but sometimes… it’s worse. It’s habit and muscle memory. It’s the sound of your voice and the smell of your hair and all the other triggers that used to make me run out and drown myself, but I know something now that I didn’t know back then.”

  “What?” she asks.

  “How much it hurts to lose you.” I shake my head once. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

  Melanie shifts slightly, her back straightening as she sits forward. “Rob, you know that this isn’t…” She pauses awkwardly. “We’re not… back together.”

  “I know. Temporary insanity.”

  “And we both know that anything more than that would be—”

  “Actual insanity.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But we are in each other’s lives,” I say. “I won’t tell you I don’t want more than that, you know damn well where I stand when it comes to you and me, but I will not let my selfishness ruin our friendship the same way it ruined our marriage.”

  She smiles. “Our friendship?”

  “I always thought it was the best part of us. Not that the sex isn’t great,” I add quickly, deepening her smile. “I enjoy that very much, but the lengthy conversations we’d have all night about absolutely nothing or the way we could just… sit with each other. How we used to read the same book and talk about it over pizza. I never had that with anybody before. I didn’t realize how much I appreciated it until I looked up one day and you weren’t there anymore.”

  Melanie licks her lips. “It was nice having someone to talk to about books. Nora and Trix don’t read much.”

  “Roger does, but…” I wince. “Dude reads some weird shit.”

  She chuckles. “I guess friendship with Robbie Wheeler has its perks.”

  “And benefits, as those in your business often say.”

  “As we often do.” She looks at me, her eyes softer than before. “You know, every man I’ve ever written has a bit of you in him… and they haven’t quite been the same since we split.”

  I nod. “Yeah, I know.”

  “You do?”

  “I’ve always been your biggest fan, Mel, you know that.”

  We stare at each other through years of baggage but, strangely, there’s no tension. No fear of endless drama.

  It’s just the best parts of us.

  “Boy,” she says, looking away, “we just rehashed the shit out of that, didn’t we?”

  “It wasn’t so hard, was it?” I ask.

  She inspects herself. “We’re both relatively unscathed, I suppose.”

  “Yeah, you’re an easy broad to talk to when you’ve got nowhere to go.”

  She laughs as she discreetly wipes her cheek. “And it’s still fucking snowing.”

  I glance out the window, barely able to see the next building over through the thick, white haze. “I’m okay with it,” I say.

  Melanie smiles, her shoulders relaxing as she sinks even deeper into her chair. “Yeah,” she whispers. “Me, too.”

  Sixteen

  Robbie

  Another snow day. Another chance to make Melanie fall in love with me again. If I believed in rituals and rain dances, I’d be up on the roof nightly sacrificing virgins to the snow gods if it meant she would fall asleep in my arms like this whenever I wanted her to.

  Melanie hums pleasantly, her naked body draped over mine on the couch. “This is nice,” she says.

  I run my finger down her back until I reach the blanket on top of us, then I travel right back up again. “Yeah,” I say, half asleep.

  “What were we talking about?” she mumbles.

  “I don’t remember,” I say, chuckling.

  I really don’t remember. Whatever it was, it’s not important right now. What is important is living in this moment and memorizing every detail before it’s inevitably torn from me like—

  There’s a knock on the door, quick and urgent.

  Kind of like that.

  Melanie rises an inch. “Who’s that?”

  I force her head back down. “Just ignore it,” I say as the knock strikes again. “They’ll go away.”

  “Robbie?!”

  We both jolt in surprise.

  “Nora?” Melanie whispers.

  “Robbie, please be home!”

  Melanie pushes up. “What is she doing here?”

  “I don’t know.” I sit up, now fully awake. “Hold on a sec, Nor!” I shout at the door.

  “Why would you do that?” Melanie scolds me. “Now she’s going to come in here.”

  I blink. “So?”

  “So, she can’t see me here!”

  “Why not?”

  She opens her mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. “Because— it—” She wraps the blanket around her. “I’m gonna go hide.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Just don’t tell her I’m here. She’ll make a big thing out of it.”

  “A thing?”

  “Don’t tell her.”

  “Rob, you okay?” Nora asks behind the door.

  Melanie shuffles out of the room and disappears into my bedroom. I rise off the couch with a sigh and pull my slacks on as I hobble toward the door.

  I open it, and Nora exhales hard.

  “Thank god!” she says, her nose and cheeks pink from the cold. “I was hoping you’d be home.”

  I step aside. “Yeah, no work today.”

  “Were you asleep?” she asks as she walks in and studies my tired eyes and bare torso.

  “Just catching up on my naps,” I say, grabbing my shirt off the back of the couch and throwing it on.

  She chuckles with snowflakes sprinkled in her bright, blonde hair. “Lucky you,” she says. “I don’t have the luxury of taking snow days. I’m practically living at the office with the app testers and marketing gurus and I am freaking out.”

  “About the new app?” I ask.

  “No, about Clive!”

  I catch sight of Melanie’s panties on the floor next to my bedroom door. “Okay, well...” I guide Nora by the shoulder toward the kitchen, far away from the bedroom and the soiled couch. “Tell me what happened. Did he hurt you? Because I’ll kick his ass.”

  I sit Nora on the stool, purposefully keeping her back to the bedroom. “No,” she says with a laugh. “It’s nothing like that, though you know I always appreciate your willingness to beat guys up on my behalf. It’s sweet.”

  “Then, what?”

  Movement tugs at my peripheral vision. Melanie slinks through the doorway toward her panties. She must have noticed them, too.

  Nora takes a breath. “Well, a few days ago, I noticed that one of my rings was missing from my jewelry box. I was in a hurry to get back to work, so I just made a mental note of it to look around later in case it dropped behind the dresser or something.”

  I nod, keeping Nora’s focus on me as Melanie reclaims her undies. “All right...”

  “Then, this morning, I was getting ready to leave when I noticed my ring was back! It was right there in the box where I left it.”

  She exhales hard, her big eyes wide and accusatory.

  I nod again. “Okay.”

  “Okay? Robbie, the only other person with access to my jewelry box is Clive, so why would he take it?”

  “Did you ask him?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  “But w
hat if he lies?!” she asks. “What if he had it appraised? Or he took a bunch of pictures of it and put it up for sale somewhere?”

  I smile. “Nor, is that really the only reason you can come up with for why Clive would borrow one of your rings for a day?”

  “He is a thief, though,” she says, panic filling her eyes. “He’s tried to steal from me before and his old partner-in-crime may get out of jail soon. That can’t be a coincidence, right? I mean, what else could it possibly be?”

  “He could have checked the size,” I say, keeping my grin.

  Nora scoffs. “Why would he—” She stops mid-sentence. “Oh, my…”

  I pat her knee. “I think Mr. Snow’s intentions might be more innocent than you think.”

  She shakes her head. “No, they’re worse!”

  “Come again?”

  “He’s going to propose?” she asks.

  “Probably.”

  “To me?”

  “Or a woman of similar finger size.”

  “He can’t propose!” she says. “Is he crazy?”

  “Crazy in love with you. He told me himself.”

  “He did?”

  “Yeah.”

  “When?”

  “A few days ago,” I answer. “We got coffee.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he wanted to ask me about marriage.”

  She gasps. “You told him to propose?!”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you crazy?!”

  I laugh. “I feel like we’re going in circles here, Nor…”

  Nora places a hand on her chest. “Oh, god, this is not good...”

  “What’s wrong?” I ask. “You love him, too, right?”

  “Of course I do. Doesn’t mean I want to get married!”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. I...” She pauses, completely out of breath now. “I don’t even know if I believe in marriage.”

  “You run a dating app.”

  “What people do afterward isn’t my business!”

  I shrug. “Fair point.”