Playing House

by Laura Chapman

  She knew what she wanted. Especially now that she knew a no strings attached relationship could happen. They could spend some time together, enjoy each other, and move on from it once they’d run their course. It was kind of perfect.

  “Wilder?”

  He leaned forward. “Yes?”

  “I understand what’s at stake here.” She took a deep breath through her nose to settle her nerves. “And I understand what happens when the season ends.”

  His stare darkened. “Do you?”

  She nodded. “I can take it for what it is and enjoy it while it lasts. If you can.”

  The country tune wailing over the speakers died out. The bar fell silent a second before the voices around them started up again, louder. He swallowed hard. His eyes wandered to his half-full bottle of beer before coming back to hers.

  “Here’s the deal,” he said softly. “I can’t be the man you take home for Thanksgiving dinner. Hell, I can’t go to your mama’s for any dinner, really. I can’t be someone who holds your hand at the movies or takes you out for candlelit dinners. I can’t give you anything long-term. No matter how much we might wish otherwise, after filming wraps, I probably won’t be here anymore. Not in this state, and maybe not even this country. That would be it.”

  “Why can’t that be enough?”

  “Would it be?”

  Her hands curled into fists on the table. “Who says I want any of those things you just listed?”

  “Most women do.”

  Her lips clamped shut, but only for a second. She had too much to say to keep quiet long. “Two things. One, way to generalize a whole gender based on tropes you’ve undoubtedly watched on TV or in the movies.”

  His cheek twitched. “Sorry.”

  “No, you’re not. Anyway, two, I don’t want any of those things. I couldn’t do them for anyone else, so why would I expect them from you?”

  The strums of a guitar began again, forcing Wilder to speak louder. “Why not?”

  “They’re not for me.” Her shoulders rose up and down. “It’s not that I think those trappings aren’t nice for some people. But in my experience, they’re not for everyone.”

  “What do you mean by trappings?”

  “Flowers, long walks on the beach, movies where everyone is hugging and crying. Dropping to one knee and pledging a life of undying devotion while the sun sets behind us on a beach in Mexico. They’re not for me.”

  His lips quirked. “So, we’re on the same page. Where does that leave us?”

  “How about we go back to the motel and find out?” She flinched. “Ugh. I can’t believe I said that out loud.”

  “Now who’s recycling tired movie tropes?” He gripped her hands again and waited for them to unclench.

  She stared at him. There it was. The spark. No denying the electricity streaming between them. It was now or never. Well, maybe not never, but it might as well be now.

  “Clichés aside,” she leaned closer, speaking softly into his ear, “do you want to come back to my room for some no strings attached fun?”

  “More than anything. But just so we’re clear—”

  “This is just sex,” she assured him. “It won’t affect anything on the job, and it won’t come with an expectation for anything more. It’s just a man and a woman unleashing some pent-up sexual frustration between the sheets. I’ve got it. Do you?”

  He answered by jumping to his feet and tossing a few bills on the table. She almost took exception—she was supposed to buy his dinner—but it hardly seemed worth arguing over at the moment. She’d get him next time. They were out the door before either of them could second-guess themselves. Out in the cold air, he practically dragged her to his truck across the parking lot. Hidden from view, he pulled her up against him. Her hands gripped his jacket. His lips slammed against hers.

  As far as answers went, this one was to the point.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Bailey held on to Wilder like her life depended on it as a wave of hunger washed over them. His lips moved against hers, stoking the fire that had been burning almost since they’d met. A hand slipped to the small of her back, holding her close, while the other braced against the truck, keeping them upright. They needed the extra support. Her legs could go out at any moment.

  He tore his lips away from hers, pressing them against her neck. Her pulse beat faster under his mouth; her eyes fluttered shut. She sank deeper and deeper into the passion overwhelming her senses. Somehow finding the use of her limbs, she lifted her hand to weave her fingers into his cropped brown hair. Gripping hold, she brought his mouth back to hers, silently urging him onward.

  The heat of his arousal met her own. She couldn’t breathe, but she didn’t care. She didn’t need oxygen. Not when she was coming apart and back together in his arms.

  She wanted him. Needed him. She’d have him here, now, up against the truck. With no more prelude than this. It was a wildness she’d never experienced. But in this moment, having him any way, just this once, would be enough. More than enough. It would be everything.

  His own desperation mirrored hers. Wilder tore his lips away. Before she could object, he kissed her forehead, opened the door, and practically tossed her into the passenger seat. He raced to the other side and slid in. They reached for each other, mouths colliding once again.

  Now that they’d given themselves permission to go for it, to be together like this, they couldn’t stop. They were powerless against this need bursting inside, waiting to be fulfilled.

  She wanted more. Tugging his flannel shirt out from his jeans, her hands glided up his chest. His muscles tensed under her fingers. His tight skin warmed her hands. He leaned into her touch, pressing her backside against the emergency break. She didn’t care. A little discomfort was worth every other feeling flowing through them. Her hand moved lower, but he stopped its downward path just above his waistband.

  Wilder buried his face in the crook of her neck. “Bailey Honey?”

  His husky voice sent another jolt of pleasure through her. “Yes?”

  “Let’s hold that thought for two minutes.”

  It was more like five minutes before they were back at the motel and stumbling into his room, but she was partially to blame for that. When he’d pulled into the parking lot, she couldn’t resist giving him another smoldering kiss. Her hand clasped firmly in his, they raced through the motel lobby as inconspicuously as possible. They paused at the door to his room—which they’d picked based on proximity—while he swiped his room key. He fumbled with the device, muttering a curse under his breath, until he got it on the third try.

  Throwing the door open, he dragged her inside. He shoved her back against the wall as his lips found hers again. Their mouths parted only long enough for him to tug her sweater away. Then his shirt and her bra. The light hair on his chest brushed against her skin. She sighed as a calloused hand traced the curve of her waist, then molded against her breast. His thumb brushed over a nipple. It hardened and throbbed under his touch. Her sigh became a moan when his mouth replaced his fingers, urging the pleasure inside her on and on.

  Wilder suddenly shifted his hold. Hitching her up, he carried her the short distance to the king-sized bed in the center of the room. He eased her back but pulled away, leaving her grasping for him. Ignoring her protests, his lips explored the length of her body, pausing at the low rise of her jeans. Kneeling at the bedside, he tugged off boots and socks, then ran his hands up the lengths of her legs, back to the waist. Almost painfully slow, he unbuttoned the denim and eased the zipper down. His mouth teased her skin as he removed the last layers of her clothing.

  Her breath caught as his tongue and fingers found her. She clenched her eyes shut and held still, afraid any movement might disrupt everything happening inside her.

  He eased back a moment. “Breathe, baby. Just breathe.”

  It seemed silly that he had to tell her to do something so basic. When she did as ordered, he went back to driving her crazy. Her fing
ers dug into the bedspread, and she called out his name as a wave of pleasure crashed over her.

  She lay limp on the bed, unable to move. She wanted to reach for him, to pull him close. But she couldn’t seem to control her limbs just yet. She was already spent, yet they’d barely begun.

  Wilder kissed her inner thigh and rose. Brushing back the mess of hair around her face, he nuzzled her neck again. The motion revived her. She became wild in his arms again, bringing his mouth crashing back to hers. Her hands traced every inch of his chest, his arms. She reached for the clasp on his jeans, unable to wait.

  It was a struggle to remove his jeans and slide on the condom. But when his weight covered her once more and she gave a nod, he thrust into her. She moved against him, all instinct and need. There was no gentle caresses this time. No ebb and flow. Just a steady push to the finish, each urging the other on.

  She rode over the wave again, this time taking him with her.

  Her heart thundered in her chest. She drew in a deep breath to steady it. Her fingers lingered on his back, sliding across it, pulling him close for an embrace. Turning onto his side, Wilder wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close against his pounding heart.

  She didn’t know how long they stayed there in each other’s arms. It was long enough for her to remember how to breathe deep and steady once again. Long enough for her pulse to slow. He kissed her forehead again, murmuring her name. It was like a lullaby. Her last full thought before sleep took over was that she was sleeping under a motel comforter again. She was willing to risk the exposure to germs this once.

  ***

  He woke first the next morning. For a split second, in the dark room, he wondered if he had imagined it all, but she stirred in his arms. Her warm breath tickled his neck and he knew it had been real.

  “Thank God,” he murmured.

  After weeks—nearly months—of pretending it wasn’t going to happen, they’d quit playing “will they, won’t they?” And seriously, thank God for that. Flashbacks from last night replayed in his mind, and a rush of male satisfaction streamed through him. He couldn’t help it. Last night . . . was something else.

  Glancing down at the blonde beauty in his arms, he smirked to himself. He’d known she was something the second he set eyes on her. If he’d only known just how much of a something, he would’ve stopped pretending he didn’t want her weeks ago. Maybe they’d needed the buildup. His fingers traced the smooth curve of her neck and shoulder. No. It would’ve been every bit as spectacular a month ago or ten years from now. He was glad they hadn’t waited a decade to find out.

  Maybe they should find out if the second time was as satisfying as the first. They had a little time before they should head back to the house to knock out the punch list. They could grab breakfast on the way.

  Like she sensed his stare, Bailey’s eyelids fluttered open and her amber gaze met his. She blinked a couple of times, then a slow grin spread across her face.

  “Mornin’,” she whispered in a low, breathy voice that sent a hot jolt of lust straight through him. She ran a palm down his chest. It was more than he could resist.

  On a groan, he leaned down to capture her lips in greeting. With her eager response, he began the slow, sweet process of reminding them both of how good it felt last night.

  The encore performance was a success. She collapsed against his chest, her hair cascading in a curtain around them. He toyed with the ends, enjoying the way the strands curled around his finger. “Last night you got to play fifty questions. Don’t you think it’s my turn?”

  “That seems fair.” She rolled onto her back, tugging the sheet up to cover herself. “Fire away.”

  “Why did you come to work for us? I mean, I’m glad you did—and not just for the sex, though talk about a bonus.”

  She pinched his side. “Don’t be crass.”

  He winced and rubbed the spot of her attack. “You’re obviously talented, and this gig won’t last forever. Hell, barring any major delays, it won’t even last through the summer. Why quit your job to be on this crew?”

  “I don’t suppose it’s too late for me to pretend I’m here out of hero worship for you and Waverly, is it?”

  “Yes, it’s too late for that. Come on.” He nudged her playfully.

  “I guess . . . I was ready for something new—ready for an adventure.” Her hand ran lightly over the still tender spot on his side. Her fingers soothed the pain away, dulling it to a light ache and eventually nothing but a memory. “My old job sucked. I spent two years there supposedly learning from the best, waiting for my chance to have some hands-on experience. It never happened. I’ve never been one for sitting by idly, but I gave it two years all the same. My mama was so proud of me for having a real, honest-to-God grown-up job. I couldn’t give it up for nothing.”

  “Did this turn out to be better than nothing?” He couldn’t quite keep the gruffness out of his voice. His hand covered hers, stilling its motion so he could concentrate on her answer.

  “I’m definitely getting the experience I wanted. Even if I can’t . . .”

  “Take the full credit you deserve?”

  “Yes, well,” she freed her hand from his after playing a silent game of tug of war, “even if all I can ever say was that I was part of the team, so far this experience has far exceeded my expectations.”

  He rested his chin on her crown. “Has everything exceeded your expectations?” His tone was light, joking even. But like an overeager kindergartner, he wanted his good grade all the same.

  She nodded, her head bumping his chin. “Of course. Granted, when you have zero expectations, you can only have exceptional results.”

  Now it was his turn to give her a pinch, which earned him a flick to the nose in return. He retaliated by licking her neck. She got him back with a nip to his chin. The bite didn’t have the effect she’d intended. He pinned her to the bed in a flash and silenced her laughter with his mouth.

  They were going to get a later start than planned. They might even have to skip a sit-down breakfast in favor of something faster if they wanted to get any work done. It was a good thing they both knew the boss. Wilder was sure he’d understand.

  ***

  Bailey hoped her sister didn’t mind her dropping by unexpectedly on Monday morning. She’d have to leave for work in an hour—Bailey would, too, actually. The new furniture was coming for the library. Bailey should’ve been prepping for the day, but she needed a quick reality check.

  After spending the past thirty-six hours swimming in an ocean of Wilder, she needed to come up for air. It wasn’t just sex—though, there had already been a blush-worthy amount of that. Between spending two full days alone in the house putting on the finishing touches and curling up together at night, she needed to remember there was a world outside of Wilder.

  The past two days had been nothing short of spectacular. Even though Bailey knew this was temporary, she’d probably replay some of those moments forever.

  See? Thinking like that proved she needed a hard reality check from her sister. Otherwise, she was setting herself up for disappointment.

  Armed with two cups of coffee and sausage kolaches, she was about to ring the bell when the front door swung open. Her hand froze over the buzzer and she came face-to-face with a man she’d never seen in her life.

  “Uh . . .”

  She stepped back and double-checked the numbers over the door in case she’d lost her mind and landed on a stranger’s front porch. Nope. She was in the right place. Who the heck was this guy? What was he doing on her sister’s porch with his fly undone and shirt half-buttoned? And why wasn’t he Felix? Not that Bailey wanted to see Felix’s washboard abs. Or lack of them—she hadn’t really considered what he was working with under those work shirts. But he was the one who should be doing the walk of shame from her sister’s house at this hour. Not some stranger.

  Her heart sank. Had something happened between Paige and Felix? Wilder said Felix was making a trip back to Ho
uston for the weekend to visit his parents. The last she’d heard they were going strong. If everything was fine, then . . .

  Paige suddenly appeared behind Mr. Six-Pack. Wrapped in a robe, her messy hair was a tell-tale sign she’d just pulled herself out of bed. She offered a welcoming grin even as Bailey’s eyes turned to slits.

  “What a nice surprise.” Her eyes traveled to Bailey’s hands, and her grin grew even brighter. “You brought breakfast.”

  “Enough for two. Sorry.” Bailey directed a quick glare at her sister’s guest, who was still standing around half dressed. “I didn’t realize there would be a third.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about Ryan. He’s leaving.” She winked at him and gave his behind a firm swat. “Thanks for coming over to check on my water heater. I appreciate it.”

  He nodded and finished buttoning his jeans while they made room for Bailey to step into the house. She said nothing else while he pulled up his zipper and slipped out the door with a parting wink at Paige.

  The second the door clicked shut, Bailey let out a sigh of frustration. “Who was that?”

  “Ryan.” Paige locked the door and took one of the coffees into her kitchen. “He’s a friend. He sometimes comes over to help me out around the house.”

  “He makes house calls before seven?”

  Her lips twitched. “In a manner of speaking.”

  “What about Felix?”

  “What about him?”

  “Aren’t you guys together?”

  “Yes.” She took a long sip of her coffee. “But we’re not exclusive—he knows that.”

  “That,” Bailey pointed toward the door, “is the reason why our mama doesn’t have any grandchildren yet.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “I don’t suppose your dating a married man will give her grandchildren any time either. At least not ones she’d brag about.”

  Bailey lifted her chin. “Technically, he isn’t married.”

  “I know—not that you cared to share that tidbit with me. Felix did—and he swore me to secrecy, so you don’t have to worry about me blabbing.” Pulling up a chair at her table, she motioned for Bailey to do the same. “But as far as everyone else knows, he’s married.”