by Brent, Cora
She sniffled but smiled through her tears. “Katrina Feldman, always my cheerleader.”
“Always will be. To hell with Russell the demented dirtbag.”
That produced a tiny laugh. “He is a dirtbag, isn’t he?”
“Total dirtbag. He deserves to be stuck with that garbage person Ophelia.”
Gemma dropped her head to her hands. “I wish this wasn’t so humiliating. Not just for me.”
There was nothing I could say to solve that problem. Maple Springs was a small town. People would gossip. Some of them would be mean. There was no way to completely shield the kids from that reality. Nor would anyone be able to fill the hole left by their father’s betrayal. The only thing I could do was love them all and hold them close. I hugged my best friend as she cried and then we polished off the wine bottle and stared at the old movie on the screen, making bets on whether men like George Bailey had ever really existed or if they’d always been Hollywood inventions.
Gemma began yawning right after the cast rendition of Auld Lang Syne so I urged her to get some rest, promising I would clean up the popcorn and wine.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she murmured before snuggling beneath her down comforter and shutting her eyes.
“I’m glad I’m here too. Get some rest. I’ll look in on the kids.” I turned off the light before softly closing the door.
Before heading downstairs I checked on all four kids. The twins were sweetly dreaming in their room like little angels. Chloe was reading under the sheets with a flashlight but agreed to shut it off after fifteen more minutes. I didn’t dare barge into Drew’s bedroom so I softly tapped on the door and he answered with a guilty expression before sheepishly admitting he’d been texting with a girl.
“I’ll wrap things up,” he promised and checked out the snacks I was holding. “Aunt Katty, did you drink that whole bottle of wine yourself?”
“Almost. Now put the phone away and go to sleep. You’ve got school tomorrow.”
He nodded and retreated back to his room. Gemma was determined to keep the kids’ routines as normal as possible. Tomorrow would be their last day of school before winter break and then came a flurry of Maple Springs Christmas festivities, not the least of which was Gloria’s Cookie Capers. Part charity event, part social high water mark, part cookie exchange, it was one of the most popular annual occasions among the locals and since it was the invention of Gemma’s grandmother it was always held here.
Between the popcorn bowl and the empty wine bottle my arms were full. The belt of my satin robe fell open as I crept downstairs. Careful to step over the loose board that tripped me up this morning, I stood at the bottom of the staircase and listened for any noise that hinted at Syler’s whereabouts. I hadn’t seen him since dinner when we sat around the dining room table and ate the small French bread pizzas I’d prepared with Chloe’s help. He hadn’t said much or hung around long. Gemma had mentioned that her car stalled this afternoon and he wanted to take a look at it. She tried to talk him out of venturing outside in the frigid weather but Syler stubbornly shrugged her off and insisted.
The first floor was now silent. I knew I’d heard him come in earlier but he must have just gone straight to his room.
Ryland’s room.
THE room.
“Ugh,” I groaned to myself and barreled ahead to the kitchen. I wanted some cookies. And perhaps some more wine. I was in the mood to read a dirty book and have an orgasm in the privacy of the upstairs guest room. Syler wouldn’t figure into that equation. Not even a little bit. There were plenty of other things to think about besides Syler’s rugged jaw, Syler’s playful smirk, Syler’s muscled chest and Syler’s inked arms.
Yup, plenty of other things.
I couldn’t remember what they were at the moment but I was sure they existed.
I strolled into the kitchen. And there he was. All I could see was his backside but there were no other men in the house who would be hunkered down at the base of the kitchen sink with their shapely asses in the air.
At least his ass was covered. With flannel. Syler must own half the flannel in the world. I’d never been a flannel enthusiast before. It was the preferred material of country boys and slackers. But flannel was quickly achieving a new level of erotic glory in my head.
“Ahem.” I cleared my throat more loudly than I needed to.
Syler slowly withdrew from his position beneath the sink and slowly stood. He wore no shirt, no shoes. Just a backwards baseball cap and those plaid pajama pants. They loosely hugged his hips. The front strings were untied. It probably wouldn’t take much to drop them to the floor. Not much at all.
“What on earth are you doing?” I asked, leaning against the fridge and squeezing my thighs together to contain the surge of lust that threatened to buckle my knees.
Syler took his time about answering. He pulled off his hat, raked a hand through his black hair, replaced his hat and grinned. His pajama pants slipped another inch. Every move was like a choreographed short feature. How To Look Insanely Sexy Without Even Trying.
“Just fixing the garbage disposal,” he finally said.
“Oh. I didn’t know it was broken.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. Someone clogged the shit out of it with cookie batter.”
I tried to look surprised. “I wonder who could have done such a thing.”
Me.
I could have done such a thing.
This afternoon I’d been responsible for a failed batch of snickerdoodles. I’d forgotten to add the eggs. And you can’t add the eggs last. It just ruins everything. Starting over and pouring the remains of the lost batch down the garbage disposal seemed like a reasonable plan at the time. Apparently I’d miscalculated.
Syler wasn’t fooled. I could tell by the way he crossed his arms over his chest (his broad, strong, NAKED chest) and looked amused.
I was irritated. “Can you stop that?”
“Stop what?”
“Staring at me like I’m the house entertainment.”
“Is that what I’m doing?”
“Yes.” I set the bowl of popcorn and empty bottle of wine down, leaving me free to tie my belt robe and shield my body from Syler’s view. Yet I didn’t do that. Just like I hadn’t selected warmer nightwear now that I was aware Syler would be sleeping in the same house. I’d chosen a floor length pink satin nightie with a matching robe. I’d chosen it while weighing the likelihood that I’d run into Syler. It wasn’t over the top sexy. But it was no fleece onesie either.
How psycho was it to utterly dislike a man and yet still want him to notice your seductive powers? I wasn’t sure. And there was no one to ask since no part of this internal dialogue would ever be spoken out loud.
“You’re still staring at me,” I accused, aware that I sounded like a bratty five year old.
He chuckled. “So I am.”
“Why?”
“Because you managed to spill wine all over yourself.”
“I did not.”
I looked down and saw that in fact a quarter-sized splash of red wine had somehow landed between my breasts. I snatched a paper napkin and rubbed at the stain but it had already set in.
Syler remained propped up against the sink and cheerfully watched me. “You need some help?”
I dabbed at the spot harder. “Your help?” I grumbled. “With rubbing wine off my tits?”
“You could just throw me your nightie. I’ll toss it in the washer for you.” He glanced down at himself. “Ah, shit. Look at that. There’s a spot of grease on my pants. I guess they’ll need to come off too.”
I stopped rubbing the wine stain. Syler’s right hand traveled casually across his chest and then down over his washboard abs. How the hell did he maintain a tan like that in Philly in the winter? Did he sit in his apartment under a sun lamp all day long?
None of this was usually my thing. The inked arms. The unshaven look. The stupid flannel. Syler’s hand crept low, disappearing under the loose wa
istband of his pants. One jerk of his wrist and they’d puddle to the floor. I was pretty sure he wore no boxers or briefs.
Syler’s expression changed, became more penetrating. “What do you think, Katrina?”
“About what?” My voice squeaked. My brain turned to mush.
It’s so difficult to maintain your dignity when you’re salivating.
It’s difficult to keep your clothes in place when your nipples are throbbing and your sex is aching.
It’s difficult to think when you want to come so badly you have to bite your tongue and clench your fists to keep from rubbing one out right here and now.
“You want me to?” he whispered, playing the game, making the threat. His hand slid down a little more. I could see the shape of him, hard and huge, begging for permission to be released.
Yes, yes. Oh God, yes.
A loud thud sounded right overhead, startling me. One of the kids, probably venturing out to the bathroom. Or maybe Gemma found she wasn’t able to sleep without checking on her babies herself.
I couldn’t be here, couldn’t be thinking about taking my clothes off in the kitchen and doing disgusting things with a guy who drove me nuts in very confusing ways.
I shivered and pulled my robe closed. Syler’s hand casually left his pants and he flicked a switch to test the garbage disposal.
“Listen to that,” he said in a completely normal voice, like he hadn’t been promising to drop his pants only seconds earlier. “All fixed.”
I tucked a loose curl behind my ear and fought to keep my face neutral. “Aren’t you clever.”
“Sometimes.” He picked up a nearby wrench and began idly toying with it. “Did you come down here for a reason?”
“I was hungry.”
“I see. And I suppose I’m in your way.”
“No. I’m not hungry anymore. I’ve actually lost my appetite. I’m going back upstairs. To bed.”
“To bed,” he said and managed to make those two non-dirty words sound extremely dirty. “You must be tired.”
“Exhausted.”
“Me too.” He twirled his wrench. “I was planning on going to bed right after fixing the garbage disposal.”
“You should do that then. You should go to bed.” I wanted to leave and yet my slippers were cemented to the tile floor.
He quit twirling his wrench. “Did you need something else?”
Sex. Sex. Sex. Sex. Sex. Sex. Sex.
Alcohol never did me any favors. That wine had temporarily broken all the sensible parts of my brain.
“No. I don’t need anything. I’ll leave you alone with your garbage disposal.” My feet found a way to become unglued from the floor and took a step toward the door.
“Oh, Kat-reeena.”
I grimaced, facing away from him, hoping I’d be able to leave without him deciphering what was going on in my head. “What do you want, Syler?”
“If you do think of anything you need, I’ll leave the door to my room unlocked.” A dramatic pause. “You know. Like I always do.”
My head swiveled, slowly, daring to look over my shoulder, only to be confronted by the sight of the victorious grin that haunted my memories.
“Damn you,” I spat before dashing out of the kitchen.
I raced up the stairs and didn’t stop moving until I’d reached my bedroom, pulled the covers over my head and tried to forget that I’d once done something even more reckless and inexplicable than ridiculing Chris Bath.
I’d done Syler McKnight.
In all the most indecent and obscene ways.
And it was complicated.
Because after all this time, THAT NIGHT in THAT ROOM remained the most torrid sexual experience of my life.
Syler had ruined me for all ordinary guys ten years ago.
I had yet to forgive him for that.
10
THAT NIGHT, Part 2
Katrina
My plans weren’t set in stone until I was lying in Gemma’s bed, staring up at the ceiling, and realizing I might never again get another opportunity like this.
Downstairs, in a back bedroom that was far enough away from the rest of the house that pleasure moaning might proceed unheard, slept the guy who’d been my longtime obsession. Unbeknownst to him of course. And hopefully to everyone else in the world, including his sister.
I wasn’t known as a shy wallflower. I had no trouble getting boyfriends and generally liked to get off as much as any honest girl. However, creeping downstairs in a houseful of people with the intention of seducing my best friend’s big brother made my heart pound and my palms sweat. This might require more nerve than I’d ever had.
“But if you’re too gutless to take a risk at age twenty, what does that say about your future?”
I grunted in the darkness as Syler’s teasing words came back to haunt me. He’d been trying to piss me off, as usual.
And he’d succeeded, as usual.
But he’d also imparted a scrap of unintentional wisdom.
For years I’d been hot for Ryland McKnight and what had I done about it?
Jack shit, that’s what.
There was a possibility he’d turn me down. Ryland had never hinted that he thought of me as anything other than his kid sister’s friend. Someone who just happened to be around. Someone who deserved polite respect but nothing more.
And now I planned to crawl into his bed in the middle of the night and offer him an X-rated carnival ride.
I knew better than to expect some swooning romantic dream where we’d fall instantly in love. But there was no crime in having a little fun.
And as much as it galled me to admit that Syler was capable of being right about anything, he’d been right about what he said this afternoon.
If not now, when?
I didn’t want to think back on this night in five years or ten years and kick myself for being too spineless to take this risk.
My heart still pounded, but now in a good way. Instead of remaining in the t-shirt and gym shorts I’d slipped into for bed I changed to the lacy pink slip I’d worn beneath my maid of honor dress. It was the closest thing to lingerie I had available and I was aware it made my breasts look positively mouth watering.
I hoped Ryland would agree.
Now wearing a smile, I fluffed my hair, dabbed on perfume in strategic places and impulsively rolled down my panties. Since I was going to do this I may as well get crazy. If Ryland planned to reject me then he’d do it long before he realized I wasn’t wearing panties.
As luck would have it, I still had the collection of condoms that had been hanging out at the bottom of my purse since spring break. I seized them, all of them, with a giggle.
I was semi terrified as I tiptoed through the house barefoot. A few seconds of horror ensued when a floorboard creaked at the bottom of the stairs. I thought I remembered Syler saying he planned to crash on the parlor sofa. I threw a panicked glance in that direction in case he came sauntering out, wanting to know why I was wandering around his house in my underwear while clutching a fistful of condoms.
The thought was unsettling. Syler would be merciless. Syler would ruin everything.
Speaking of Syler, his wretched personality was really a shame because he’d sure filled out in a tantalizing way. His years on the Maple Springs High football team had added layers of muscle and with his black hair, flashing dark eyes and square jaw, he would be worth looking at if he was a nicer person. He was eighteen now, ready to be unleashed on the world and sure to attract some unsuspecting girl who would lose her mind over his wicked bad boy vibes. I truly wished her luck, whoever she was. She would need it.
With some effort I shoved Syler out of my head. He was nothing like his levelheaded, composed older brother. Ryland’s looks weren’t dark and smoldering. His fair hair, grey eyes and overall clean cut appearance was more professorial than dangerous. But Ryland’s hobby was kickboxing and since he took his training as seriously as he took everything else, he had the body of a pro
athlete. Ryland was the ultimate sexy scientist, the man you should most want to be stranded on a deserted island with. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone modeled an action hero after him. We never seemed to have much to talk about but so what? Perhaps we just needed to get a little closer in order to crack that barrier.
His bedroom door was closed. If it was locked then I’d take that as a sign. I dared to twist the handle. After a deep breath I stepped inside and shut the door behind me.
“Who’s that?” he yawned from the bed.
I debated turning on a light but no, this was better in the darkness.
“Shh. It’s just me.” I swallowed. “It’s Katrina.”
He didn’t kick me out. He moaned when I touched him. He pressed his super hard dick into my hand when I went exploring. He cursed and groaned and encouraged me when I took him in my mouth. This was happening. This was really happening. He was into it.
Really into it.
I hadn’t guessed that Ryland would be so aggressive, so dirty. Hearing him moan was incredible. I couldn’t wait for more.
“I need this, Ry. I want it so bad.”
He froze.
I froze too, wondering if I’d done something wrong.
I told him I wanted to do this. I told him I had condoms. More than enough condoms. He didn’t need to say a thing.
But then he switched on the light.
“You’re not Ryland,” I said, wondering if it was really possible to perish on the spot from shock. From humiliation. From shame.
The other McKnight brother, the one who teased and tormented and harassed me every chance he got, took his time and answered me with obvious delight.
“Nope. I’m not Ryland.”
I could still feel his dick pressing on my thigh.
His DICK.
SYLER’S DICK!
I’d felt Syler’s dick.
I’d sucked Syler’s dick.
And now I might throw up. Or die. It was a toss up.
“Fuck,” I said.
All the horror. All the revulsion.
And still I didn’t move. I couldn’t move.