Cheater (Curious Liaisons Book 1)

by Rachel Van Dyken

Kayla started to turn just as Chelsea sat down with him. Oh holy hot dog, no, no, just . . .

  “OH NO!” I yelled, purposely spilling my wine all over the table.

  Hopefully, the racket was loud enough to gain his attention.

  And it was.

  But the minute Kayla looked where I was looking, it was too late.

  He was at dinner with another girl.

  I was at dinner with his ex.

  Oh dear.

  To his credit, Lucas smiled, waved, and got up. He said something to Chelsea that I’m sure meant he’d make up for it later—in the bedroom—for having to abandon her unexpectedly and sauntered over to us while she gathered her things and left.

  Damn the man. He didn’t have a right to look so good in a suit jacket.

  Kayla started shaking.

  I wasn’t sure who I felt worse for: her, Chelsea, or Satan, as he made his way toward us, his jaw twitching like he was clenching his teeth.

  “Hey, um, hey there . . . baby.” I choked and threw my arms around his neck.

  He wheezed, coughed, then did what Lucas Thorn always does when he’s cornered by a female—he kissed me.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  LUCAS

  It was hard to feel disappointed about losing yet another one of my girls when my lips were in the process of plundering Avery’s mouth—with the aid of my tongue. Ten more minutes, and I was going to be tossing her over my shoulder.

  Because that’s what a grown man did in fancy restaurants—screw a girl he wasn’t even on a date with, against the very table where his ex-fiancée is seated.

  Perfect plan.

  “Chelsea works here, thus the gift card I got for you,” I whispered against Avery’s ear. Since I was in that general vicinity I decided a slow nibble wouldn’t hurt. She let out a little squeak, tightening her arms around my neck.

  It felt too real.

  All of it.

  And I wanted that, the realness, the feel of her body against mine, her smooth curves filling my hands, her fingers stretched across my neck—and then slowly, sadly, she pulled away and hung her head. “I missed you.”

  “Surprise!” I said, trying to wing it. “I figured you would come here, so I had Chelsea get me a table far enough away from the drama so I could at least intervene if need be.”

  “How heroic.” Avery blinked and then nodded toward Kayla.

  I didn’t want to look at Kayla.

  I didn’t want to talk to her.

  I didn’t want to be put in a position where I had to explain myself to the very woman who I’d left at the altar—because I was in love with her little sister.

  Shit.

  Admitting the situation in my head was almost as bad as finally saying it out loud. I wrapped my arm around Avery and faced Kayla.

  Tears streamed down her face.

  I was the cause of them.

  And I hated myself for it. Even if Kayla had doubts too, there was no justification for what I did to her—not that she forced me to do something as horrible as I did.

  There was no justification for what I did to Kayla.

  Everyone had expected us to get married. But we’d been fighting, and deep down she must have known that we’d been growing apart. That we’d stayed together out of familiarity and habit.

  Even though I knew it wasn’t the time to say it, she had to know, in her gut, that we would have never worked.

  “Kayla, you look really good.” I held out my hand. She hesitated and then sat up a little taller, taking the compliment and pressing her hand firmer against mine. I’d always hated how she shook hands. She’d always been a bit vain, needing attention and adulation to feel good about herself. I hoped that my greeting would set her at ease—and though she did look good, she didn’t compare to Avery.

  The breadbasket arrived.

  Avery ripped into it like a hungry lion, while Kayla tore small pieces and put them on her plate, only to plop one in her mouth, chew a billion times, and finally swallow.

  God, it was like seeing her for the first time—and suddenly I wondered how we’d stayed together as long as we did. So many things had started to pull us apart before we even got engaged. I’d always despised Kayla’s eating habits, especially after all the fights we got into about her not eating. Back then she thought the perfect body was about being skinny, and it was apparent she hadn’t changed much in that regard. I’d never noticed how thin her face was, or how clothes hung so loosely on her body. Most women would probably envy her wispy frame, but it made my fingers itch to run up and down Avery’s legs, then hold her tight.

  “So this is . . . so nice,” Avery choked out, taking a huge sip of wine between her giant bites of bread. “Should we order?”

  “YES!” I said a little too loudly.

  “Look, guys”—Kayla’s shoulders slumped—“I appreciate the show, but honestly this is awkward and it’s not going to get better. I haven’t had an appetite all day, so why don’t you two just enjoy dinner tonight.” She stood. “Avery, I love you. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Her eyes locked on mine. “Lucas.”

  And she was gone.

  I exhaled in relief while Avery pointed at the breadbasket, her mouth filled with bread, and said, “Are you going to eat that?”

  “By all means, have all five pieces. It’s not communal or anything,” I joked as the waiter dropped off two menus.

  “That was . . .” I glanced back at the door. “How is she?”

  Avery made a noise. “How would you be if you dated someone for most of your life and thought it meant forever, only to find him in someone else’s bed and then, plot twist.” She was really tearing into that bread. “Now that she’s finally over it, her goofy little sister suddenly steps in and decides she wants a piece.”

  I reached for a roll, but my hand was slapped away.

  “No,” Avery growled.

  With a sigh, I leaned forward and said in a low voice, “Don’t you think I know how bad it hurt? How awful it was the next day when I woke up with the hangover from hell? I never meant to hurt her. I wouldn’t—look, regardless of how things were between us, the last thing she deserved was that.”

  A hunk of bread fell from Avery’s lips. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m not a complete monster—I’d think you would know me better than that.” I tried to keep the hurt out of my voice, but it was impossible.

  Our gazes locked.

  The air was tense with all the words left unsaid.

  Four years’ worth of them.

  I looked away, suddenly grateful for Kayla’s exit.

  Because it gave me time with the only girl I actually wanted to be having dinner with on a Wednesday.

  Avery.

  Shit. I was already in so deep, wasn’t I?

  I couldn’t see beyond the hole I was digging for myself. The kiss had unlocked every damn thing, and the more I pushed her away, the more I hurt her. She was probably ready to strangle me half the time whenever I brought up my girls, and yet she held her head high and met me with a fierceness I found so damn irresistible and admirable that I couldn’t help but crave her more.

  A waiter approached.

  “Steak.” I winked at Avery. “Just bring us two giant steaks, mashed potatoes, the house salad, and—”

  “Corn!” Avery added, shoving another piece of bread in her mouth.

  “You heard the lady.” I chuckled and handed him the menus.

  “Would you like something to drink, sir?” he asked.

  “No, I’m good.” For some reason, I wanted a clear head, and after that kiss, I was already half-drunk on Avery’s mouth, the same mouth she was still stuffing bread into.

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “I’m a nervous eater,” she said defensively. “Thanks for coming by and making Kayla believe it’s real, but you can run along and hang out with Chelsea, who I’m sure is pissed.”

  And as I often di
d around Avery, I felt like an ass. “Actually, she thought it was going to be a group orgy. I let her down slowly though, told her you weren’t into anything sexual and still wore a training bra.”

  “How sweet of you.” Avery kicked my foot under the table.

  I winced. “That was uncalled for.”

  “You insulted my boobs—I’ll have you know they’re very sensitive.”

  I bit out a curse and reached for my water. She was young, inexperienced, and probably didn’t intend for her words to affect me, and yet I was nursing fast-moving arousal under the table.

  “That came out wrong.” Her cheeks blushed bright pink.

  “Funny, I’d say it came out just right.” I leaned in. “Let’s discuss this further.”

  “Aw, sorry, can’t. I’m not your normal Wednesday, so no matter how this night ends, whether I’m at my place or yours—my private parts are on lockdown.”

  “You really need to stop drawing my attention to your breasts. Might give me the wrong idea.”

  She gulped, her eyes locking on my mouth. “Yeah, well, when I’m stressed I blurt out things that make no sense. You’re free to ignore me the rest of the night. Say, where are we with that whole leaving and forgetting about this idea?”

  “Staying.” I wrapped my arm around her. “Right here.”

  She slumped forward. “But . . .”

  “That didn’t seem to go well.” I changed the subject and reached for the last piece of bread.

  She shrugged. “It sucked actually. At least I didn’t have to defend your lifestyle and why you were sitting with another girl.” She scowled as a blush heated her cheeks. “I didn’t want her to look at you that way, I just . . . I mean, I hate you—you get that, right?”

  “Do you?” My heart thudded slowly in my chest, waiting for her answer. “Do you really hate me so much?”

  She blinked and looked down at her hands. “I want to.”

  “You want to hate me, but you don’t.”

  She nodded.

  “So that must mean you kind of like me?”

  “What is this, middle school?”

  “I wouldn’t know, that was a long time ago for me, but for you—hey, wasn’t that like five years—”

  She smacked me in the chest. I grabbed her hand and held her sizzling fingertips against my neck until they began slowly inching up to cup my cheek. “Tell me one thing, and I want the truth, Thorn.”

  I sighed, body buzzing with awareness. “Okay.”

  She licked her pink lips, and her hand continued to move back and forth against my jaw, driving me insane with the need to kiss her. “Why did you guys stop having sex?”

  My head told me to lie.

  My heart told me that was all I’d been doing for the past four years.

  “Because I kissed you, and I knew in that moment that if I could kiss a seventeen-year-old girl—if I looked forward to stupid things like picking you up at work or you coming to me when your boyfriend dumped you—then I was already screwed. In my mind, I was cheating. I was a cheater then, Avery. I’m a cheater now. At least now I admit it. When I was with Kayla . . . all I wanted. Was. You.”

  Avery kissed me.

  I swallowed her moan as I tangled my hands in her hair and gripped her head, deepening the kiss by sucking on her tongue while she tried to crawl into my lap.

  “We’ll”—I broke off the kiss, then went in for another—“get it to go?”

  She nodded and kissed me again, and when Avery pulled back, her green eyes sparkled. I knew in that moment, the connection had never just been a crush.

  I hadn’t kissed her four years ago because it was wrong and felt good.

  Or forbidden.

  Illegal.

  Or even stupid.

  It’s because what we had between us was real. The most real thing I’d ever experienced with anyone.

  Only now?

  I had nothing holding me back, except for the guilty feeling in the back of my head that told me—even if she gave me her heart, I’d never be able to give her mine. Not when so many other women currently had a piece of it.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  AVERY

  I used to make fun of this kind of girl.

  The one who threw caution to the wind and made a poor life choice and then cried into a box of Lucky Charms when the guy ended up being a total asshole.

  And even though I knew the ending long before it happened, I couldn’t help but make the same stupid choice.

  Kiss him again.

  And again.

  And again.

  Until my lips were swollen from the friction of his, until my greedy hands were burned by the scruff on his cheeks.

  I craved more of him.

  And sadly, pathetically, I always had. And probably always would.

  That’s the thing about crushes—if you’re lucky, they go away and you find someone so incredible that the whole crush is laughable, a distant memory you think about or maybe dream about once every three years after having too much sangria.

  But the crush I’d had on Lucas?

  It had always been more.

  It went from being a crush, to hero worship, to him being my best friend—and the minute we locked eyes that fateful day on his couch?

  I knew it could be more.

  If my sister—my adorable, amazing older sister—hadn’t been standing in the way. With a ring on her finger.

  Did that make me just as bad as Lucas?

  Just as guilty?

  Did that mean I was a cheater too?

  No! A voice screamed in my head, or maybe it was just my heart yelling as loud as it could. My sister had lost Lucas. Ignored Lucas. She hadn’t been thankful for what was right in front of her—and their relationship ended.

  This was different.

  I was an adult.

  So was he.

  We didn’t need permission to actually follow through with what everyone else already assumed was happening.

  Right?

  My head hurt just thinking about it. His mouth met mine again and again, and the scent of his body hung in the air as I clutched the front of his shirt and tried not to be “that” girl in the back of the cab who straddles the dude before they even make it to his apartment.

  By the time we made it into his building’s elevator, both of us were breathing heavily, and the guilt at what I was doing had somehow transformed into this white-hot need to strip every inch of his clothing from his hot man-candy body and see if I could make him tremble beneath my touch—the way I did beneath his.

  Five steps to his door.

  Still. No talking.

  It opened.

  The lock clicked shut.

  Darkness enveloped the entire apartment—the only light was the moon as it glowed across the Sound and stretched through the floor-to-ceiling bay windows.

  And still no talking.

  It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, which should have been my first clue that this wasn’t a one-night stand or a test to see if we were compatible.

  This was Lucas and me following through with something we both had wanted a long time ago—something that we were never allowed to have because of factors that felt beyond our control. And something that involved feelings neither of us had ever admitted to out loud.

  Until now.

  My heart kept trying to remind me that there were other women, that he’d cheated on my sister, that this too was cheating—that I wasn’t different because tomorrow he’d be with someone else.

  But stupidly, like I said, I was becoming the girl—the girl who did bad things, the girl who was convinced that she was different, that she was the game changer.

  My mind reacted to that possibility in a completely logical way by reminding me of his calendar—of who he’d been on a date with just before he kissed me.

  Warm hands cupped my shoulders and then slowly made their way down to my wrists. “You’re so soft.”

  I leaned my head back against his chest. �
��What’s happening?”

  “I stopped asking that the minute you kissed me back. Figured it would be better for my sanity.”

  “So you admit this is insane, right?”

  “Right.”

  Protect your heart, protect your heart! Don’t be that girl, don’t be that girl! My brain screamed, and my heart thudded wildly. I turned in his arms. “I’ll be your Wednesday, but only for this week, only for tonight. And then this is over with, whatever this is, whatever itch that needs scratching or desire that needs to be fulfilled. Once I walk out that door, we go back to hating each other and under no circumstances do we ever discuss it. Ever.”

  Say no. Please say no.

  Give me more than one day.

  Be different.

  Let this be the game changer.

  Instead, Lucas’s expression turned cold as he whispered the word. “Okay.”

  I wasn’t different.

  I was going to be just like the others, desperate for him, thrown aside when the sun rose the next morning.

  One night.

  It was all I needed anyway, right? It’s not as if he was going to really commit to me, marry me, offer to impregnate me and father all our children.

  “Are you sure about this, Avery?” He cupped my face with his rough hands. “You still have a choice. You can turn that cute ass around and march out that door—hell, you can even slam it on the way out. I’ll even let you keep the steak.”

  “Are you offering me an out?”

  He nodded.

  “Do you offer that to every girl?”

  Another nod.

  “Do they ever take it?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  He paused. “You know, nobody has ever asked me that before.”

  Probably because nobody cared about what else he had to offer besides what was dangling between his legs.

  “I’m asking. Right now.” I wrapped my arms around his neck. “What does Thorn want?”

  “You didn’t full-name me.”

  “It seems to make you even more arrogant, God forbid.”

  His grin made me weak, so weak that I had to hold on to him for strength. Funny how things come full circle. How he’d always been my rock.

  Dependable.

  Loving.

  And now?

  He held all the power. Lucas Thorn . . . could destroy me.