“We've been friends since childhood,” I said. I leaned my elbows on the table and reached for a tortilla chip. The restaurant Frank had taken me to was a cute little Cuban place downtown. It wasn't a beautiful diner, but the food was fabulous. “So, yes,” I said, scooping guacamole onto the chip. “You could say we're close.” It wasn't true, of course. We had been childhood friends, but unlike Emily, Nick and I hadn't stayed close into our young adult years. Now, however, was a different story. But Frank didn't need to know that.
“And the girl?” Frank asked. “The one sleeping on the couch?”
“That's Nick's niece,” I said. I hesitated, realizing how odd of a story it was to tell a near-complete stranger. “Piper's also my goddaughter. Her mother died a few months ago. She was my best friend.”
“So…this Nick guy is your best friend's brother?”
“Yes.” I smiled, thinking of Piper and Nick. I wondered why I felt the desire to be home with them right now instead of here with a hot guy having free food. “Emily died,” I said. “Cancer. She put both me and Nick in charge of Piper's care.”
“Both of you?” Frank set his drink down and signaled for another.
“Yeah, I guess it was Emily's sly plan to keep everyone together,” I said. I took another bite of my cold burrito and shrugged. “But Nick and I are not together. Period.”
“That's a little—weird,” Frank said. I stared at him, unsure as to why he was agitating me so much. He was just a guy asking guy questions—and yet every time he asked something personal, I had the overwhelming desire to punch him in the face.
“I had a nice time tonight,” I said instead, flashing him my best smile. Had I smiled like that at Nick, he would have called me out for hiding something. Frank was an idiot. Frank would have no idea.
“We can go back to my place if you're game,” he said. By now, I could see his eyes glazed over with the effects of the alcohol. I opened my mouth to tell him to fuck off, but then thought of Nick and felt angry. Since we'd slept together, he'd been weird and distant. I knew what that meant—that meant we were done, and he was moving on. That bothered me more than anything.
“Okay,” I said instead. “Lead the way.”
Nick
It had been a good idea when I'd first considered it. If Sam could shun me to go on a date with a rich, tan prick like that guy Frank, I could do what I wanted, too. I had resigned from this game she was playing with me. Fuck it—I deserved better.
“I'm so glad you called me,” Lindsay purred. She leaned over me, tracing her fingers softly down the sensitive part of my abdomen. We were lying together on the couch, naked, in the near dark. Piper was sound asleep upstairs, and Sam was still on her stupid date. I didn't care. I could screw around with whoever in the hell I wanted—and so could she.
“Me, too,” I said and forced a smile. I didn't know what I was doing. Had I wanted sex? I was a man; of course I’d wanted it. Yet I couldn't help but feel I wanted something else even more —I wanted Sam to see me now—I wanted her to hurt like I had hurt when she'd walked out the front door with a guy who looked like he was still a frat brother but in high school. What a douche.
“Are you okay?” Lindsay asked softly. Her fingers lifted from my abdomen and trailed my chin. “You're awful quiet and brooding.”
“I'm sorry,” I said. “I've got a lot on my mind.” I looked at Lindsay, but it wasn't Lindsay anymore. I was seeing Sam.
Sam
Frank's apartment downtown was not what I had expected when he'd offered to show me. The first time I'd met Frank, and he'd asked me out, I had held some warped impression of this guy. He was handsome, funny, charming—but now that I had spent over four minutes with him, my opinion of him had drastically changed. I knew that the way Nick and I lived wasn't exactly poster-worthy, but being twenty-eight years old and living in a downtown apartment with three male roommates with a beer-pong table instead of a dining room table was not exactly what I was looking for in a man.
“The guys are gone, thank God,” Frank said. “Sometimes when I bring women over, they press their ear to my door and listen to the conversations.” He handed me a beer, which I took awkwardly.
“That's—weird.”
“Yeah. Kinda.” Another silence fell over us as I sipped my beer and looked around. I had that funny feeling in my stomach—the feeling of being a kid in a situation beyond your control. I hated feeling like that—trapped. But then again, I knew I had no room to moan. I had agreed to come here. And why? I had no idea. I had no interest in this man anymore, and that was for certain. We were living in different worlds, focusing on opposite things. I knew the truth, though: I had come here tonight to make Nick jealous. What good would that do now? Nick wasn't here, and now I was alone with a guy who wouldn't stop staring at me like I was a piece of meat.
“Listen, Frank; I'm not feeling well anymore,” I said. I set the beer bottle down on the counter, shoving aside a stack of junk mail and a half-empty jug of milk to make room.
“Is that so?” Frank asked. He took another drink of his beer. He was smiling, but it wasn't a typical smile. It was a smile that made my heart race and my hands clam up. I had a flashback of the man at the bar—the one who had tried to hurt me in the alleyway. I'd hated that feeling—hated feeling so fucking vulnerable and helpless. And here I was again, in the same spot. Only this time, Nick wasn't here to help me.
“I'll show myself out,” I said. I gathered my jacket and draped it over my shoulders, glad I hadn't indulged too much tonight. Had I been drunk, I wouldn’t have even tried to leave—and then would have regretted it in the morning. I turned to go, stiff, when Frank reached out and took me by the arm. It wasn't an aggressive gesture, but I flinched away automatically, my mind reeling. I mentally calculated the location of my phone—if I could just call the cops, or even Nick, I would be okay.
“You weren't tired at dinner,” Frank said. From where I was standing, I could smell the stale beer on his breath, and it made my stomach turn.
“I'll call you later,” I lied. If I could get out of there without a fight, it was probably the safer bet—but he didn't let go. I forced herself to look him in the eye, to keep my chin up. I couldn't show him fear. Fear was a woman's greatest enemy. After what seemed like an eternity, Frank's grip loosened slightly, just enough for me to pull my arm away. I took one step back, and then another. He didn't come after me, even when I slipped out the door and back to safety—trembling, but unhurt.
It was almost midnight when I dragged myself up the front steps to Nick's apartment. I'd missed the first bus from Frank's house and decided to walk home, screw it. A few times I'd contemplated calling Nick, but thought better of it and walked home on my own. The night air was cold against my skin, and it was less humid than it had been earlier. I was exhausted and annoyed, and I didn't know why, but seeing Nick right now felt like it was the only thing that might cheer me up.
Hardly able to stand up straight from pure exhaustion, I unlocked the front door and stepped into the house, closing it firmly behind me. In the dark, I reached over and flipped on the living room light, my gaze cast downward as my eyes caught sight of two bodies entangled on the couch. One was Nick, and the other was Lindsay.
“Oh, my God,” I said. I dropped my purse and stared at them, mouth open and hanging agape.
“Sam!” Nick cried. He fumbled to cover up, but his tone almost sounded—smug. “I didn't know you'd be home so early.” He slipped on his boxers (not that I had seen anything—unfortunately) and then stood, running his hand through his hair sheepishly. I wanted to scream at him to stop doing that.
“Sorry, Sam,” Lindsay giggled. She had the sheet wrapped around her middle, but I knew she had no shame in being caught naked with Nick, and that infuriated me more than anything.
“My bad,” I said. The words were painful to say when not accompanied by a sob fest or physical rage. I tried to look at Nick, tried to read his face, but I couldn't even bring myself to meet his eye
s. I was both humiliated and furious—a dangerous combination.
“How was your date?” he asked awkwardly. Somewhere hidden in his tone, I could hear the bitterness when he spoke. I hesitated, taking a deep breath, wondering if I could rush upstairs and hide before I lost it completely. My eyes flickered from a half-naked Nick to an even-more naked Lindsay. Then I looked Nick directly in the face.
“It was great,” I said. “We’ve already planned for a second date.” Silence hung between us as I flashed a smile at Lindsay, kicked off my shoes, and headed upstairs to my bedroom while Nick stared after me.
Nick
It didn't feel good—not a lot, not even a little. I felt miserable instead of satisfied—like the total dick I was. After Sam had stormed up to bed (refusing to appear again, even once), I had quietly asked Lindsay to leave. When she had questioned it, I'd told her the truth: because I didn't want us to wake up Piper. Okay, so that wasn't the entire truth—or the truth at all. The fact was I wanted Lindsay to leave because the look Sam had given me right before vanishing up the stairs had pierced my heart so sharply that I had felt ice run through my veins. It hadn't expressed anger—oh, no. It had been worse. It was sadness. No, betrayal. Why? I didn't know. The girl spent multiple hours with a Brad Pitt-wannabe, and then had the nerve to walk through the front door and give me a look like that? Shit, I was losing my touch. No one in the world besides my sister and my niece had ever made me feel the way she had just made me feel—never.
“Call me!” Lindsay whispered just before sliding into the cab. I kissed my fingers and blew her a kiss. I watched the taxi disappear down the road with Lindsay, after a moment turning to go back into the apartment. I locked the door behind me and stood in the dark foyer for a moment, trying to decide what to do now. It was well after midnight, and I had just kicked a girl out. I wasn't tired now, though. I was more awake than I had been all night. And the more I thought of Sam's beautiful body and kind face, the more awake I became.
Itching for a drink, I went into the kitchen and took a long swig of water from the tap. I turned no lights on—five years in my apartment had taught me the lay of the land. By now, I could maneuver around in the dark flawlessly.
I splashed cool water on my face before turning off the faucet, flinging the drops from my fingers into the sink. I had spent all night with Lindsay—beautiful, blond, wild-animal Lindsay—and the only person still on my mind was Sam. I'd been mean tonight—so mean, in fact, that it was I who had found myself staring aimlessly at the bare wall, pondering all the bad in my life. And why? Because Sam had gone on a date. With a man. A man that wasn't me.
Growing angry and aroused, I placed my hands on either side of the sink and squeezed, trying to compose myself. I thought of Sam, upstairs under my comforter. She'd be sound asleep, I was sure, sleeping either in her blue satin nightgown (the stunning blue one I'd only seen her in once) or else she'd be sleeping naked—her hand between her legs, maybe, as she pleased herself in ways that a man probably never could.
Well, I could. I could.
Heart pounding steadily in the dark, I straightened up, feeling an excitement rise below the waist of my boxers. Thinking of Sam did that to me—the worst part was, it was only ever Sam. Never in my life had I become sexually aroused by a woman purely by thought. Until now.
“Did your friend leave?” said a voice from behind me. I jumped, spinning around to come face to face with Sam. Despite the darkness in the kitchen, I could make out her smooth, freckled complexion lit up by the moonlight cascading through the window. She wasn't dressed in her blue satin nightgown, but she wasn't naked, either. She was wearing a man's T-shirt, one that barely covered her crotch. She was wearing my shirt. “She didn't have to leave because of me,” she said. She crossed the kitchen in the dark, reaching into the fridge before pulling out a Diet Pepsi.
“It wasn't because of you,” I said. I couldn't take my eyes off her as she maneuvered through the kitchen, bare feet tiptoeing on the tile, legs flexing as she moved. She flushed as I watched her, glad it was too dark to see anything that was covered by clothing. I was hard. I was hard for her.
“You mean you asked her to leave?” Sam asked. She turned to face me, leaning back against the island countertop as she stared at me and sipped her Pepsi. She crossed one ankle over the other, and my eyes flickered down to her legs again, and then back up.
“I did,” I said. I paused, watching her, throbbing under the fabric of my boxers. She wasn't wearing a bra, and as long as she was standing in the moonlight, I could see her nipples harden under the black T-shirt. She said nothing more, only watched me, her emerald green eyes flashing in the dark.
“My date was horrible,” she said finally. “There's no second date. He was a douche.”
I stared at her even longer, unable to react appropriately to whatever she had just said. My body was pulsating with desire, and I couldn't focus on anything other than the way her red hair was crazy about her head—and the way her breasts rose and fell with her breathing—or the way her shirt was so low that I could see her pink undies peeking out from under it.
“Jesus,” she said, stepping back. “Why don't you have pants on?”
I couldn't lose it now—she and I were done. We were not a thing; she had made that clear. So why this—why now? Was she teasing me? “Did you at least get laid?” I asked her, trying to focus on something besides Sam's nipples.
“No,” she said, and reached up to rub her neck. I closed my eyes, groaning softly as her fingers massaged her skin.
“How about you?” she asked, and I had to fight to focus on what she was saying. “Did you get laid?”
“No,” I said, and then kicked myself for telling her the truth. Lindsay and I hadn't had sex. We'd cuddled, yes—naked. But we had not had sex, much to Lindsay's dismay. I hadn't been sure why I'd flaked. But now, staring through the dark at Sam, I knew exactly why.
A silence fell over the room, a silence so loud that I had to close my eyes and compose myself. I couldn't do this—not again, not with Sam. It didn't matter how much she made me want her—it just didn't matter. She and I—not happening.
“I'm going to go to bed,” I said finally. Trying to ignore the throbbing in my body, I turned away from Sam to walk away. I hadn't taken my second step before I felt Sam’s hand on my shoulder, gripping, pulling me to a stop. I closed my eyes again, unsure if I could tolerate any more sexual teasing. Before I could say anything, though, Sam's free hand slithered around from behind, her fingers gently trailing the skin right above my middle.
I froze, my muscles tensing with anticipation. Lindsay's skin on mine had been warm and comforting—but now, with Sam, I felt a fire start in my groin and spread in both directions, lighting me up like a Christmas tree. I caught my breath, fighting the urge to spin in Sam's direction and take her on the kitchen floor. The thought of it made me flush, and I turned around to meet her gaze, hoping she wouldn't drop her fingers from my skin.
“Do you know what you do to me?” she asked quietly. Her tone was so quiet I could barely hear her. She was in my face now, inches away. Her breath smelled of Wintergreen gum and tequila, which didn't bother me. In fact, it made me want her even more.
“You don't want this,” I said. I raised her hand from my side, my thumb and index finger taking hold of her chin. I looked into her eyes, sure she could see the sexual desire burning in my soul. “You don't want this,” I said again. Our lips were so close I could almost taste the alcohol on her lips. “You made it clear that you don't want this. Don't play with me.”
“I'm sorry,” she said. Her gaze didn't stray from me. “I thought I didn't need you. But I do. I need every inch of you, and I need it now.” Desperately, she reached up and grabbed hold of my hair, tightening her grip on me. I groaned, but it was not with pain, and I felt my whole body react as Sam flung her head back, revealing her neck to me. That was all it took. In one swift motion, I pushed her back against the island counter, my body hard on hers as I rocke
d my hips against her, whispering sweet things in her ear. I pressed myself against her body, my free hand slipping down below the T-shirt. She was wet under the satin undies and feeling her excitement nearly made me burst with anticipation. I slipped my hand under the bottoms and slid them off, my fingers rubbing briskly.
She groaned, arching her back like a cat, and I lifted her up onto the island before I pressed my mouth against hers. The taste of her was overwhelming—like a treat I never wanted to stop tasting. I searched for her tongue with my own, and Sam’s body spasmed slightly as I pressed myself against her thigh. I kissed her mouth, and then her neck, thrilled when she threw her head back again to give me better access. I had never felt so strong—so full of lust. I felt like if I didn't release soon, I would simply explode with desire and anticipation.
“Is this a good idea?” she whispered between pants.
I paused, but only briefly. She knew it wasn't a good idea, and I knew it, too. But I also knew that it was too late to stop it now—neither of us would be able to.
“It doesn't matter,” I said instead, and slipped off my boxers before lifting the T-shirt over Sam's head, revealing her perky, plump breasts. I stroked her nipple with my thumb, trying to be gentle, but barely able to control myself. She yelped when I pinched her breast, but her head went back again, and her naked hips rocked forward, looking for me. Meeting her mouth again, I dropped my free hand and slipped a finger inside of her, pleased when I heard her gasp with pleasure. I moved my finger out, and then in again, closing my eyes as I nibbled on her lip. I wanted to ravage her—I wanted her to scream with pleasure and pull my hair and never let me go.
“Now,” I gasped. “Do it now.”
She obeyed, and with strength I didn't even know I possessed, I spun her around and pushed her down over the island. One hand grabbed her hair, and my free hand slapped her ass—once, twice, and then I entered her, sliding myself in with a grunt of ecstasy. I pulled out and entered again, hearing her moan beneath me. Every time I pulled out and entered her again, she gasped, and her backside pressed up against me. I pushed her farther down on the table, barely feeling my hand snap out to shove the dishes aside. They clattered to the floor and broke, but neither of us noticed.
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