by Kendall Ryan
No lamenting over not staying in his bed. No fantasizing about the warm feel of his mouth against mine in the morning as we woke up side by side.
When we were together, I was going to cherish that time. But when we were apart? I had to remember who I was—and who he was. Where we stood. And if that wasn’t enough, I needed to remember my mountain of responsibility for Aaron. That would do the trick.
If I could manage to do that, then this thing between us could be fun. Like a vacation to Jamaica before another long winter. Yes, that’s what Cooper Kingsley was to me—a little break from my own stark reality.
The floorboards creaked, and I smiled to myself. Aaron was getting up and ready for his breakfast. I poured my mixture into the pan and checked the clock again before grabbing my phone from the table where I’d left it.
Scrolling through messages, I found a voice mail from Mauve and pressed the phone to my ear.
“Hey there, just checking in. Call me when you have the time, nothing earth-shattering.”
The recording clicked off, and I frowned down at my cracked glass screen.
It had been too long since I’d gone for a visit. Between everything with Cooper and Aaron and the new job . . . There was no doubt Mauve would understand, but that didn’t excuse me from the judgmental voice in my head, reminding me what a terrible friend I was.
The eggs on the range started to bubble and I stirred them around a little, sprinkling them with salt and pepper as I heard the floorboards creak more forcefully in the background. Sliding some eggs onto a plate, I left them at the table with a glass of orange juice for Aaron, and then slipped back into my own room to read the rest of my messages.
All ten of them were from Cooper.
12:00 a.m.: I already miss you.
12:15 a.m.: Next time you should leave something here for me to remember you by. I’m thinking a pair of your panties might do the trick.
My skin instantly prickled into goose bumps, and my nipples went tight as I scrolled to the next message.
12:25 a.m.: Or better yet, bring all your panties here and just stop wearing them altogether.
12:30 a.m.: I plan on checking to see if you follow through with this new plan when Monday comes around.
1:00 a.m.: You’ve done something to me. I can’t go a full two minutes without thinking about you.
And on they went, including more imaginative details about what exactly he wanted to do when I came into work without my panties on Monday.
I blushed, smiling despite myself, and then the phone rang in my hand and I pressed it to my ear.
“Hello?” My voice was breathier than I would have liked, but then Mauve’s husky voice filled my ear and I relaxed against my bed. Not feeling disappointed, exactly . . . just slightly deflated, was all.
“Well, if it isn’t the busiest woman in Boston,” Mauve teased.
“I know, I know. I’ve been a jerk,” I muttered with a sigh.
She let out a raspy chuckle. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just nosy.”
“Well, I’m here now. What’s been going on?”
“Not a darn thing. Still beating off the men with sticks, you know. The nurses get them all jacked up on their medication, and suddenly they think they’re Don Juan instead of an eighty-year-old retired dentist from Hoboken.”
I laughed, affection closing around me like a warm hug. “I’m sure it’s not all that bad.”
“Oh, it is. That same dentist used a pickup line to let me know that he specializes in oral,” she said with a cackle.
“Mauve!” I gasped on a laugh.
“Hey, I didn’t say it. Though, to be honest, it’s a hell of a selling point. I’ll give him that.”
“Oh my God,” I muttered more to myself than into the phone. She was a riot, and I only hoped I had half as much good humor as she did if I lived to be her age.
“You don’t want to hear about an old lady’s dating life, though. Come on, tell me. What’s kept you so busy? Or should I say who?”
I raised my eyebrows and sputtered, “Excuse me?”
“Oh, come on. I’m old; I’m not stupid. Suddenly you have more important things to do than sit around with an old lady or stay home and do nothing. So, what’s his name, kiddo?”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, weighing my options. Finally, I settled on, “Okay. Maybe there’s kind of sort of someone. At work.”
“I knew it. Hot damn. How’s the sex?” she demanded.
“Mauve, oh my God,” I murmured, my cheeks flaming. “No, no, we’re just . . . taking it slow. And it’s not serious. We just agreed to some light fun and nothing else.”
“Where’s the fun if there’s no slap and tickle?” Mauve demanded.
“People can enjoy each other’s company without having sex, you know.”
“Maybe if those people aren’t attracted to each other. Or if they don’t count oral sex as actual sex. Is that the situation we’ve got here?”
“I refuse to answer that question,” I shot back.
Mauve chuckled into the phone. “Okay, well, at least tell me why you’re taking it slow and not serious?”
“I’m just . . .” I shook my head. “I’m not looking to date right now. It’d all be too complicated.”
“Because this man at work has a small—”
I rushed to cut her off. “No! I’m not going there with you.”
“So, what’s the matter? Is he unattractive? Dull?” After a pause, she added, “Oh, jeez, does he make you listen to that terrible rap music?”
“He doesn’t do any of that. He’s perfect. It’s me. I’m just . . . it’s just not what I’m looking for.”
“Because of Aaron.”
It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t bother to answer it.
A beat of silence stretched between us, and then Mauve cleared her throat. “You know, I think this talk is long overdue.”
“What talk?”
“This one. The one where I remind you what you already know in your heart. Aaron would want you to be happy. You did a good thing by him, but you can’t allow that to rule the rest of your life, especially not with as young as you are. When you’re a little old lady like me, you’ll want memories of this time to look back on fondly.”
“I know, it’s just—”
“You don’t know, though,” Mauve said, not unkindly. “You can’t know. But I don’t want you to live your whole life and then look back and realize there’s nothing to see in the rearview mirror. Do you understand?”
I swallowed. “I think so.”
“Good. Now, I know it’s Sunday and you’re probably cooking, so I won’t keep you. I just missed the sound of your voice.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you soon.”
We said our good-byes, and I hung up the phone before tossing it into my sea of covers. I didn’t want to look at it for a while. In fact, for now, all I wanted to do was lie back and think about Cooper. And me. And everything Mauve had said.
But as soon as I closed my eyes, there was a knock on my bedroom door. Aaron was waiting for me, ready to share in our morning tradition.
“Coming,” I called.
But my heart was somewhere across town, in bed with a man I could never hope to keep.
Chapter Fourteen
Cooper
I sighed, glancing at my digital calendar as I tried for the fourteenth time that morning to rearrange my meetings in some way that allowed me to squeeze the most into my day. Too bad that wasn’t the only thing on my mind. As I shifted one mixer and another golf outing, I stared at the orange highlighted dates on the screen. They were colored but blank—I hadn’t typed the words on the calendar, but I knew what they meant.
Time with Corinne.
In the past three weeks since our night at the museum, we’d seen each other three or four times a week, but try as I might, there was still something between us. An invisible wedge. A bridge that I wasn’t allowed
to cross.
Not that I hadn’t tried. I’d taken her to movies and readings and art galleries. Cooked her dinner at my place and asked her every question I could think of—her favorite television show, her favorite toy as a kid, her childhood best friend’s name. She answered me patiently, but in spite of all my efforts, I felt like I still didn’t know her. The real her. Like there was something she was keeping from me.
But it was more than that. As the weeks wore on, I started to notice little quirks. Like how we could never head back to her apartment after a night out. She never stayed over at my place, either. And when I’d suggested going away for a weekend? She’d flatly refused, saying “it simply wasn’t possible.”
I’d tried to be patient, but it was getting to the point that I couldn’t be patient much longer. Not without some explanation beyond the one she always gave. That her life was just too complicated for anything more than what we were doing. That she appreciated the sex and the company, but we could never be anything more.
And for now? I was taking what I could get.
Not because I didn’t want more—I wanted everything. But if she wasn’t willing to give herself to me completely? Well, I wasn’t willing to let go of what little parts of her I could have.
She was incredible. Smart and driven at work, punctual and professional. And in bed? She was better than anyone I’d ever been with. So needy and responsive. So thirsty for more.
Even if I’d wanted to, I couldn’t walk away from her. Not now. Not yet.
But that didn’t stop me from daydreaming about what else we could be. About what she might be like when that wall of ice around her heart melted away and she finally let me in.
Tapping my calendar for the millionth time, I added another orange dot to the night of the company mixer—a hopeful dot—and then buzzed Corinne to head into my office.
Within five minutes, she appeared, her red pencil skirt clinging to her hips and showing off her perfect hourglass frame. Her hair was pulled into a professional knot at the nape of her neck, and I imagined running my fingers through her silky locks until they tumbled all around her face.
“Good morning,” I said, careful to remind myself of the professional atmosphere we’d sworn to maintain.
“Morning,” she said, her cheeks slightly pink as she smiled at me.
My body responded instantly, but I forced myself to focus.
“I have a list of things we need to go over before the gala this weekend. Will you take a seat?” I motioned to the leather chair across from my desk and she slipped into it easily, setting her clipboard on her knee as she waited for me to speak.
I cleared my throat, trying my best not to stare at the faintest hint of cleavage that peeked out from her button-down top, and then glanced at the list of questions in front of me, delegating each task while ensuring she had everything else in order.
As always, she was rock steady and had everything under admirable control.
“Anything else?” she asked when my battery of questions had finally been satisfied.
I glanced at the closed door, letting my imagination run away with me for a moment. I could ask for so, so much more, but instead I said, “Just having some trouble with my calendar. Too many events, not enough hours in the day.”
“Want me to take a look?” she asked. “See if I can reschedule some things or take them off your plate?”
“Sure.”
I motioned to the computer screen in front of me and she rounded my desk, leaning over to study my schedule and putting her ass on full, perfect display. She shifted slightly, her pouty mouth pursed as she tried to make sense of all I had to do. But then, when she jutted her hip out to the side, it was too much.
I wrapped my hands around her waist and pulled her into my lap side-saddle, kissing the creamy length of her neck until I reached the shell of her ear.
“You tricked me,” she murmured breathlessly.
“I didn’t mean to. You’re just so damn hot,” I murmured, nibbling on her earlobe.
“Cooper . . . someone could come in.”
“So what? I’m the boss,” I whispered, blowing lightly into her ear. “And no one but you comes in without knocking. Don’t make me stop.”
“I have to.” She squirmed a little but stayed in my lap all the same. “We agreed not to mix work and pleasure.”
“Okay, I’ll stop, but only if you reconsider coming away with me next weekend,” I said, pulling back and fighting the ache in my swollen cock.
She shook her head. “I told you. I can’t.”
“Not ever? Do you turn into a pumpkin at midnight or something? Were you cursed by an evil witch?”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course not, silly. I just can’t. It’s complicated.”
“I’m starting to learn that a lot about you is complicated,” I said softly as I released her, both sexually and emotionally frustrated.
She cupped my jaw and held my gaze with her solemn one. “It’s the truth.”
“All I want is to get to know you. I feel like there are parts of you, even after all this time together, that I just don’t know or understand.”
“And that bothers you?” she asked.
“It bothers me when I feel like there’s something between us, yeah. I know part of the reason you agreed to this arrangement was so that you could feel more comfortable in the bedroom. Tell me, do you?”
“I do,” she said, her voice low as her lean throat worked.
“So, what’s going on? We enjoy each other’s company. We’re magic in the sack. What’s holding you back?” I asked, unable to hold it in any longer.
She considered me for a long moment and then let out a shuddery breath, locking her gaze somewhere over my shoulder. “Do you want to know why I never felt comfortable in bed? I mean, other than my general lack of experience?”
I managed to nod, but an ominous feeling slid through me suddenly, and I took her hand. “You don’t have to—”
She shook her head and pressed on. “It’s not a story I like to talk about, but when I was thirteen . . .” She took a shaky breath and started again, the words coming out in a rush. “When I was thirteen, I lived in a foster home with relatively few kids. That was a first for me. The parents were older, and they had a nineteen-year-old son who was home for the summer from college. Everyone was nice to me, but the son . . . he was too nice.”
I stayed silent, not wanting to interrupt or derail the rare moment of vulnerability, but nausea slicked my belly.
“One night, late, he sneaked into my room, and he, um, he touched me. Inappropriately. He said it would be our little secret and told me not to tell.”
I gritted my teeth, fighting the urge to howl with outrage. To somehow find the bastard, even now, and rip out his beating heart.
“I didn’t say anything, at first.” Corinne swallowed hard. “But then I finally told. His parents didn’t believe me, or if they did, they did nothing about it and expected me to just grin and bear it. I managed to avoid him until my caseworker came to the house for a check, and I immediately told her what happened. She took me from the home that very day. Ever since then, sexual contact has been . . . difficult for me.” She stared at the far corner of the room, refusing to meet my gaze.
“I’m so sorry. Did he—” I stopped myself, not wanting to press. Still, I had to know. Had her first time been that? Rape? The story was sickening enough, but that would make it even worse. God, how could she even let me touch her after that kind of violation?
She shook her head. “It could have been much worse than it was. He didn’t rape me. My first time was when I was much older.”
My hands remained fisted at my sides.
“Thanks for telling me all that. I know it was hard for you, and it explains a lot. You’re such a warrior,” I said, shaking my head, even more in awe of her.
She gave me a shaky smile. “I just did what I had to do. And it was about time I told
you. It’s not a story I tell much, is all.”
“I can understand that. It’s a big thing to trust someone with. So, thank you for giving me that trust.”
A moment of silence passed between us as she leaned back against me, and I wrapped my arms around her waist. She sighed and I breathed deep, drinking in the scent of her perfume as my mind drifted again.
Even after all of that, though, everything she shared, I knew that there was more. A whole room of ghosts still locked away. I could feel it in the tension of her body, see it in the worried lines on her face. And as furious and sick and terrible as her admission had made me feel, if there was more, I wanted to know it. I wanted to make it all better, in some small way.
“So,” I said, breaking the silence, “I’ve been thinking.”
“You don’t say,” she teased.
Ignoring her, I pressed on. “I’ve been thinking, and I was wondering if, with all this extra help in the bedroom and your newfound sexual confidence, you might be able to date soon.”
“Date date?” She raised her eyebrows and I nodded.
“I don’t think so.” The teasing light disappeared from her eyes, and those worry lines returned with a vengeance.
“Why not?”
She chewed on her bottom lip, then shook her head. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about this too. For the past few weeks, actually. Cooper, you’re a great guy—”
“Don’t,” I shot back, stiffening. “Don’t do that. You’re not ending our arrangement. We’re too damned good together.”
It took everything I had not to remind her of that here and now.
“No,” she said carefully. “I’m not. But just because I’m not ready to date doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. I don’t want to hold you back. I mean, you’re a really great guy, and I have no doubt you’re going to find someone amazing. When you do, I’ll just fade into the background with lots of fond memories. The point is, if someone catches your eye? Go for it. Ask her on a date. Just because we agreed not to sleep with other people doesn’t mean you can’t keep your options open.”