Dared to Love (The Billionaire Parker Brothers Book 3)

by Kayla C. Oliver

  It constituted a fuzzy cat sweater and pajama pants with clouds on them.

  I winced. “Sorry. It’s been a lazy kind of day.”

  “Lazy or dead?”

  I shrugged. “At this point? A little bit of both.”

  She waved a hand through the air as though fanning away an offensive odor. I smelled myself discreetly just to make sure that wasn’t actually what she was doing, then stepped aside to let her in.

  “That’s it. Enough moping or whatever this is.” She indicated my sloppy attire. “It’s time to get cleaned up.”

  I frowned. “Why? I officially do not have work. Seriously, mandatory vacation coming my way.”

  Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot up high on her head. “What? Are you kidding?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. Just found out.” I waved my phone to indicate the call I’d just had with Marnie. Guilt churned my stomach, but I shoved it down.

  “How is that even possible?” she demanded, then a second later held out a hand, palm flat, toward me. “Never mind. I don’t know and I don’t care. Because that’s not why I’m here. I’m here for an intervention?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Vegging is not healthy. You need out of this house and real human interaction. So get dressed. We’re going shopping.”

  ***

  Elizabeth was right. There was something about getting out of the house and going shopping that made a girl feel human again. And I was in desperate need of some human in my life. It helped that Liz took me to my favorite vintage-clothing shop.

  “Seriously, how did you know?”

  Liz grinned. “Simple. I searched the best vintage shops around with the highest-quality stuff and voilà. It’s like magic.”

  “You’re magic,” I told her, sighing happily.

  She laughed at me but looped her arm through mine as we headed inside. It was a little late to be shopping—already after six in the evening—but the little shop was open late to cater to the working women’s crowd. Namely me. I loved the shop because it had dresses that looked like a mixture of serious working women and sexy 1950s pinup model. And they were practically designed for women like me with the large hips and ample bosom.

  Plus, they had really cute shoes.

  “We’re going to try on about a thousand dresses, and then we’re going to look at the shoes. Because, oh my God, shoes.”

  It was my turn to laugh. Liz was a shoe gal first, and everything else came after.

  We split up and agreed to meet back at the dressing room after finding at least three items. It took minutes to meet up again, and we both had a hell of a lot more than three items. I had five dresses, two skirts, a pair of high-waisted hot pants, and two tops that were either going to make great nightclub getups or lingerie. I wasn’t sure which.

  Liz was similarly packing, and we grinned at each other when we met at the dressing room. “Three items? What was I thinking?”

  “Who knows?”

  We basically had the dressing room to ourselves. There were a few other ladies in the store and two employees, but they were spread out. It was one of the reasons I loved this place. People left you alone unless you needed something. They weren’t shoving dresses in your face, they weren’t pressuring you to buy stinky perfumes that you didn’t wear. They just asked if you needed help, then drifted off into the wallpaper. It was awesome.

  We picked out dressing rooms across from each another, leaving the mirrors for the very end, like a runway. There were also mirrors inside the rooms, but it wasn’t the same unless you were walking.

  I tried on a plumb crazy purple dress first. It was skintight with a peplum skirt. Not quite as vintage as I liked, but it fit well and worked well with my curves. It was going to be a maybe, I was sure.

  When I parted the curtain, I saw Liz do the same. She’d picked out a flowy sunflower-yellow color that worked surprisingly well with her golden locks. “What do you think? Too much yellow brick road?”

  I cracked up with laughter. “Yellow brick road?”

  “Yeah. You know, blonde hair, yellow dress?”

  When I’d stopped laughing, I asked half-seriously, “The Elton John song or the Wizard of Oz?”

  She shrugged. “I’m thinking Elton John, because this is definitely a goodbye yellow brick road.”

  Grinning, I shook my head at her. “You’re crazy. And despite how much yellow it is, I’ll just tell you, it looks pretty awesome on you.”

  She batted her lashes at me prettily. “Why, thank you.”

  We did our obligatory walk down the catwalk and scrutinized ourselves in the mirror. Ultimately, neither dress looked bad, but they were both misses in the end. They would go to the rehanging pile.

  The next dress I tried on was baby blue, and it was awesome. A button-down with a slim waist and a skirt that flared out. As I was putting it on, I called over to Liz. “How have you been doing?”

  She answered with a sigh. “Good, but not great.”

  “What’s the damage?”

  “Ugh. Stepsister from hell.”

  I winced. I’d never had the privilege of meeting Liz’s stepsister, but she sounded like a real piece of work. Total brat. “What’s going on with her now?”

  I could practically feel Liz rolling her eyes. “You name it. She’s so fragile right now. She just hasn’t found her niche yet. You need to be more supportive. She’s your sister.” Her voice was high-pitched and nasally, clearly imitating someone though I couldn’t say who. “As if. Sister my ass. Dad’s second marriage was a total and complete joke. She was a store-bought trophy wife, 100 percent.”

  I had oodles of sympathy for my friend, though I’d never had to deal with something like that before. I was an only child, and while I didn’t talk to my parents as much as I should, they were still together and happy as far as I could tell. They sent me postcards and pictures and were even on the internet, despite having difficulties with all the newfangled technology.

  “I’m sorry, that really sucks,” I told her. “You get a sister and she ends up as the sister from hell.”

  I heard her snort. Very unladylike. “Yeah, no kidding. It sucks because all I really wanted was a sister, and then I got one. Talk about more than I bargained for.”

  We stepped out again and ooh’d and ahh’d over each other’s dresses. Hers was green this time and absolutely perfect on her.

  “The worst part?” she continued, ranting about her wicked stepsister. “She’s in town.”

  I winced. “Jesus, seriously?”

  She nodded solemnly. “No bullshit.”

  “Well, then we will just have to avoid her the whole time you’re here.”

  Grinning at me, she nodded. “Hell yes. This is why you have always been my favorite. You make so much sense.”

  I laughed. “Likewise.”

  “Now let’s get these absolutely fabulous dresses and move on to the shoes.”

  “Agreed.”

  Chapter Ten

  Trent

  We ended up taking longer than ten and twenty minutes to get ready. An hour and a half later, Sarah looked like a million bucks in a shimmery liquid-looking silver dress and dangling earrings. Her face was framed by deliberate curls, and her eyes were outlined with dark mascara, while her lids were smeared with a glossy silver that matched her dress. Her heels put her taller than my shoulders, and I swear she even added some glitter across her shoulders.

  She was a knockout, and I was proud to take her out for the evening. I was also feeling a little protective, because she was like my little sister and I didn’t like the idea of watching a bunch of bumbling idiots try to drunkenly hit on her.

  Still, she was a big girl, and I wanted her to find her happiness—away from Callum—so I reminded myself to tolerate a little flirting.

  “Hands stay above the hips!” I shouted at a man who was trying to see how far his fingers would travel down her leg.

  Instantly, his hand snapped away from Sarah. He muttere
d something to her, then shuffled away like a kicked puppy.

  Sarah rounded on me and scowled. “Really? You’re fucking killing me, Harvey!”

  I waved her off. “Don’t be ridiculous. He was an ass. I was saving you from a boring night with a boring individual who wouldn’t have even remembered your name.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re a pain.”

  “You love me.”

  “Doesn’t mean you’re not a pain, just that I’m a very patient, good person. Saintly even.”

  I laughed. She had a good sense of humor, and I loved her for it. “There was never any questioning your sainthood.”

  We headed over to the bar, pushing through the throng of people, to order some drinks. The club was one of those rooftop bars where the lightshow was as impressive as the drinks and the natural outside air helped keep out the smell and the heat. It was the best of everything, and it was one of my favorite places.

  Sarah ordered for us, batting her long lashes at the bartender, who laughed a little and pushed a couple of drinks at us. He was a friend of ours mostly in passing and had a soft spot for Sarah. I briefly wondered if that friendship was worth pursuing for her, but didn’t push it. I didn’t want to play matchmaker; I just didn’t want her hung up on Callum.

  She handed me one of the drinks, and then the two of us turned so that our backs were to the bar and we could watch the craziness of that many bodies pushing together to dance. It was like watching one huge entity with many moving parts.

  Creepy, but kind of cool, too.

  Sarah shouted something at me, but I didn’t catch it.

  “What?”

  “What’s so special about her?” she tried again.

  I blinked. It took me a minute to realize who she was talking about, but when it clicked, it clicked fast. Courtney, my sexy secretary. “Nothing!” I shouted back at her.

  She made a face at me, then leaned closer so she didn’t have to shout as much. “Don’t be an ass. I’m not an idiot. You’ve never been this hung up on a woman before. Not since…” She winced and looked briefly like she wanted to redirect where she was taking this, but ended up finishing with, “Well, not since high school.”

  Instantly, I remembered.

  High school. The bullshit that came with it, but also the good parts. My grandmother telling me to take pride. Callum walking into my life like a million bucks. And her.

  I couldn’t see myself in the mirror, but I didn’t have to to know that my expression had darkened. I could feel it in the tightness of my shoulders, the hard clench of my jaw, and the way my teeth felt like they were trying to crush rocks.

  I would never forget her, and that made me almost as angry as the fact that I’d been so hung up on her in the first place.

  I couldn’t change the past, but if I ever got the chance, she would be it.

  In a single swallow, I downed my drink, then set it on the counter behind me. Suddenly, the swirling bright lights, the pulsing music, and the undulating crowd of bodies weren’t nearly as entertaining.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Sarah’s expression. Apologetic. Sympathetic. A host of other emotions that I didn’t give a shit about right then.

  She opened her mouth to apologize, but I wasn’t interested in hearing it just then. “I don’t want to talk about it,” I told her, cutting her off before she could say anything else.

  I threw myself into the crowd, an effort to not just avoid any further conversation, but also an attempt to forget the woman whose face was permanently etched into my eyelids and branded on my brain.

  I started dancing with the nearest woman, a pretty thing with wild curly hair and smooth dark skin. She shimmered and danced like nobody’s business, and for a second I stuck with her.

  But I couldn’t stay for long.

  I was still wrapped up by the woman I’d never quite let go of, and I needed something strong enough to distract me. My eyes began to scan through the crowd as I danced until they landed on a woman with ample curves but a little waist. She had ruby-red lips and hair that fell in deliberate curls around her shoulders and down her back.

  In that moment, I decided: I was going to take a woman home tonight. I was going to fuck her like nobody’s business, and then I was going to feel better. More like myself. I’d forget all about the women in my life that were causing me problems. Just like that, I’d be fixed.

  My eyes lingered on the sexy, curvy woman across the room. I moved toward her like a predator hunting its prey. Her eyes met mine, and that sexy little smile told me that she was game to be my meal tonight.

  I reached her in moments, my hands sliding automatically to her waist. It was little beneath my large hands, and the strategically placed darts in the fabric allowed my skin to brush hers. It was hot and sweaty and spoke of passion.

  Just what I needed.

  Her breasts bounced as she gyrated to the music. I fell into step with her, pressing us close together until our hips collided. Her lips parted and she batted those long lashes at me. When I saw her pink tongue slip out between those parted lips, I knew she was game for whatever I wanted.

  Leaning closer to her, I whispered hot breath in her ear, “Wanna get out of here?”

  I felt a giggle roll through her ample chest, which was plastered against my front. The contact and her body was enough to get my arousal going. I felt myself grow in my slacks and knew this would be good. It would be fun and string-free and just what I fucking needed.

  “Yes,” she murmured and nodded at me.

  I grabbed my phone out of my pocket and texted Sarah. Can you make it home on your own?

  In a minute’s time, I received a reply. Way ahead of you. Already in a cab. I don’t feel like puking.

  I grinned and shook my head. I didn’t have to worry about Sarah tonight, and that was a relief. Even being annoyed at her, I didn’t want anything bad to happen because I’d had to feed a very specific need.

  I glanced at the woman again and nodded at her. “Let’s go, beautiful.”

  She giggled again and let me lead her through the crowd. We made it to the elevator before my hand was up her skirt and her tongue was in my mouth. She tasted only slightly of alcohol and a little of sweat. Her skin was hot in my hands, pliant as I massaged her ample rear. She ground herself against my crotch, all but begging for me to take her then and there.

  Then the bell dinged and the doors opened. I pulled my hand free from her skirt and led her out the door to the parking garage. She slipped into the passenger seat and spent the whole ride massaging my dick through my pants.

  It was a fast ride.

  When we got to my place, I all but dragged her up to my bedroom, my clothes coming off as quickly as possible. When the door was closed, she grabbed the hem of her skirt and tugged it up. I watched as she exposed her bare pussy to my eyes. No panties and smooth, pale skin. I watched as her dress was lifted higher and higher, revealing those large tits.

  Her nipples were hard, and the underside of her breasts had that perfect curve to them.

  I shucked off my slacks, my erection already aching and ready. I reached into the bedside drawer and retrieved a little foil package for the main event. But before I slipped the condom on, my little nightclub sex kitten was on her hands and knees. Her ruby-red lips were full and parted easily over the head of my cock. I sucked in a harsh breath as she slipped me into her mouth, slowly taking me as deep as she could. She didn’t choke but pulled back when I thought I might be halfway down her throat.

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” I muttered, laying back on my bed.

  Those red fucking lips.

  Those perfect fucking hips.

  And those tits. Large. Curved perfectly.

  I let myself go like that for a minute, indulging in her hot mouth wrapped around my length. My hands found her hair, caressing it and pushing it back from her heart-shaped face.

  Her eyes opened and looked up at me, and I froze.

  For just a second, it wasn�
��t the woman from the bar. It was Courtney. The red lips. The perfectly curled hair. The womanly curves mixed with that little waist.

  Jesus. I’d taken home a copy of the woman I was having wet dreams about.

  She was taking me into her mouth again, and I knew I could let her. I could let her suck me, then slide into her bare pussy without a single complaint. She’d probably tell me to take her faster and harder and I’d bottom out inside of her. All of which was incredibly appealing. But now that Courtney was in my head again, I couldn’t get her out.

  I didn’t want this woman’s body wrapped around me. I wanted Courtney’s. And that made this all very, very wrong.

  Which was why I lifted her mouth away from my throbbing dick. She pulled away with a pop.

  “What? Did I do something wrong?”

  She looked so concerned for a moment that I felt really bad.

  I shook my head, even as I eased her off the bed. “No, no. You’re great. Awesome. And sexy as hell. I just—”

  I broke off, because I had absolutely no idea what to tell her. Gee, I can’t sleep with you because I’m imagining you’re this other woman that I’d rather be with sounded fifteen shades of horrible.

  Instead, I said, “I just can’t do this. I thought I could, but I can’t. You’re great, but I need something else tonight.”

  Her face pinched together, and she looked angry. “Damnit. You couldn’t have decided that while I was still at the damn bar? Or had my fucking clothes on?”

  She wiped her mouth, then went to get her dress. She pulled it on quickly, then scowled at me. “Thanks a lot, jerk.”

  I winced. “I’ll call you a cab. On me.”

  This mollified her slightly, but just barely. I had the feeling she needed the release tonight as much or more than I had. I felt a little bad for not providing, but I couldn’t help it. It just didn’t feel right.

  I pulled on a pair of sweats as she headed out the door. I heard it slam behind her. I called the cab quickly and gave them a credit card, telling the driver to take the woman wherever she asked, on me. She could have technically driven to New York City on my dime, but I didn’t care.