Never With You (The Never Series Book 6)

by Anie Michaels

  There were two empty flutes on the windowsill that used to have champagne in them, along with a plate of half-eaten strawberries on the floor next to the hot tub. We’d made love and then as the tub filled with water, Briggs had called room service and ordered the decadent treat. He’d put on one of the hotel’s fluffy robes when the knock had come at the door and I’d hidden in the bathroom, too embarrassed to be witnessed in our obvious sex den.

  “I think it might be kind of fun and scandalous to work at a hotel like this.”

  “Scandalous?”

  “Yeah, I mean, you would get to see people like us coming here just for sex and talk about them, make up their stories.”

  “Hmm,” he said as he poured the hot water on my arm. “Maybe for a few weeks. I think eventually you’d start to see all the guests the same.”

  “Not possible. That guy down there at the check-in desk totally knew we were here just to do the nasty.”

  “The nasty?” he replied, his voice full of humor.

  “Yeah, that was a bad descriptor.” I turned my head and tilted it back so I could see his face. “It was incredible, like it always is with you.”

  He leaned down and kissed me, and I felt his smile against my lips.

  “Next time try to use words like mind-blowing or off-the-charts.”

  I giggled as he pulled me closer, nuzzling into my neck. “I’ll try to remember that.”

  “So,” he said quietly, still letting warm water run down my skin, “your car is in Portland?”

  “Yeah, my mom likes for all of us to drive together, and since Brody and Angela have the big van, we took their car.”

  He was quiet for a moment, but then said, “That’s too bad. I kind of wanted to see where you live.”

  I thought about his words and couldn’t quite decide if it was good he wouldn’t come to Bend, or disappointing. I couldn’t imagine, if he were taking me back to my house, he’d just drop me off at the doorstep. I’d invite him in, show him around, and we’d probably end up having goodbye sex. Then my house would be tainted. I’d have memories of him there. No, it was probably better we’d part ways far from my everyday life. I wondered if it bothered him that he’d have memories of me at his house. I supposed it was a good thing he was going to sell it in a few months.

  “My place isn’t anything special.”

  His body shook with laughter. “No, firecracker, my place isn’t anything special.”

  “Well, I guess that’s true. At least I have a refrigerator.”

  His lips came to rest on the top of my head and he spoke his next words into my hair. “But seriously, maybe some time I could come to Bend. See the town. See you. Visit.”

  My heart thudded to a complete stop and my lungs snagged on a breath. Surely he felt every single muscle in my body harden as my brain evaluated what he’d said. More than anything, my heart hurt. My eyes closed and I took a deep breath, trying to force my lungs to work again, and then I slid away from him—probably the hardest part—and sat on the opposite side of the hot tub. His face had changed and he looked concerned, confused as to why I would pull away.

  “Briggs, this… it isn’t what we talked about. Isn’t part of the plan.”

  His hands came up and pushed through his wet hair. Tiny water droplets fell to his chest and ran back down into the pool of water around his abdomen. “I know we agreed this wouldn’t be serious, and it still doesn’t have to be. I’m just talking about visiting you. Is that not something you’d want? You’re comfortable just walking away and never speaking again?”

  “Are you?”

  “No. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

  “What is it that you want? I need you to be very clear.” My heart, which had previously halted, was now thundering in my chest.

  “I’m not one hundred percent sure,” he said, exasperation clear in his tone. “All I know is that I don’t want to drive away from you and never hear from you again, or never see you again.”

  Warmth spread through me at his words, followed closely by a wave of fear. I was so happy to hear I wasn’t the only one feeling like this was more than we had intended, but I couldn’t ignore the reasons we’d originally kept our relationship to just the one week to begin with.

  “Before this started we both agreed neither one of us was ready for a relationship,” I reminded him.

  “I wasn’t ready for anything, Talia. Especially not you.”

  “While I feel differently toward you than I did a week ago,” I said slowly, trying to find the words one by one to accurately describe the whirling emotions coursing through me, “I don’t really feel any differently about myself.” I let out a breath, as though just saying the words took weight off me. “It would be so easy to just be with you, Briggs. You’re incredible, and I feel incredible just being around you, but nothing would break my heart more than being with you for the wrong reason.”

  “It doesn’t feel wrong,” he said as he slowly moved to my side of the hot tub.

  I knew being close to him would only make the conversation harder, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t craving his touch. He sat on the bench next to me, but at the same time grabbed me by the hips and situated me on his lap, facing him, my legs straddling his thighs.

  “You just got divorced,” I whispered, pulling my arms in to cover myself, feeling more exposed than I ever had before.

  “And you just got out of a really long-term relationship, but here we are, and it feels right, Talia.” He pulled my arms away from my body, draping my hands over his shoulders, then dropping his hands to my waist again. I leaned into him because I wanted that contact, wanted to feel his body against mine.

  “Think about it, though, just for a minute. This isn’t real life, Briggs. I’m on vacation. You’re in the middle of a mid-life crisis, remodeling a house so it doesn’t remind you of your wife, and I’m having the no-strings-attached sex I never got to have in my early twenties. There’s an attraction—yes. There are feelings—yes—because it would be impossible to be with you and not start to care for you, but maybe that’s the point. I would rather have this one week with you, just one week of happiness, than risk ruining it all because we rushed into something.”

  He started to speak, to argue with me, but I cut him off.

  “Do you have good memories of your wife? Or does the image of her with that other man pretty much fuck all that up? Because right now, if we said goodbye, I’d be sad, but I’d only have good memories. I would only remember the way you looked drowned in light from a campfire. Or the way your face lit up with laughter watching me learn to surf.” I couldn’t help but smile as I recalled the best week of my life. “I’d remember the way you made love to me and even though I knew it was all temporary, it felt like everything.”

  At my words, he pulled me closer, my sex lining up perfectly with his. He was hard, and I was high on champagne and simply his proximity. He slipped into me easily, both of us gasping at the contact.

  “You can’t tell me you want this to be over,” he rasped, using his hands to move my hips in the way that had his cock moving in and out of me, using the water and its weightless capabilities to his—and my—advantage.

  “No,” I gasped. I didn’t want it to be over. Ever. But that was exactly what I feared would happen if I let myself fall into something carelessly. Briggs deserved better than that. So did I.

  I wasn’t sure if he took my no as I meant it, or how he wanted to hear it, but either way, there was no more talking that night other than him urging me to come with him, and I did just that.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Talia

  I woke up the next morning clinging to Briggs, and he was wrapped around me too. We slept late, neither one of us in a hurry to end the magical bubble we found ourselves in where we could speak freely about our feelings and wish for things we both knew couldn’t ever be. When it was time to check out we put our clothes back on and walked to the truck, hand in hand. He opened my door for m
e, but before I could climb in, he brought his hand to my face, slid it back into my hair, and kissed me.

  It was a soft kiss and torturously slow. It felt too much like a goodbye.

  We drove through the same coffee stand we’d stopped at a few days prior, got some coffee and muffins, and then headed back to his house. We were practically silent the whole way, but I sat in the middle of the bench seat and kept his hand in mine.

  When we pulled up to his house he turned off the engine, but made no move to open his door. After a few quiet moments, he turned toward me but kept his face down, looking at our hands intertwined.

  “I want you to know I heard what you said last night. I listened and I understand where you’re coming from. We have just one day left and I don’t want to spend it trying to convince you to consider something more happening between us. So this is the last time I’ll mention it.” His eyes drifted up and caught my gaze. “Just know that when I drive away from you tomorrow, I’ll be hoping to hear from you again.”

  He gave my hand a squeeze and then climbed out of the truck, leaving me there with a gaping hole in my heart. I’d never felt so torn before in my life. But eventually I pulled myself together and climbed out of the door he’d opened for me, ever the gentleman.

  We ate our muffins and drank our coffees on his deck, exchanging mindless chatter about our plans for the day. The conversation was light, but I was thankful for it; to feel a little bit normal for a few minutes. Afterward, we decided to surf a little more. It was warm as afternoon approached, and surprisingly, the frigid ocean didn’t seem too intimidating.

  We suited up and headed out, spending a few hours laughing like we had the first time. I was able to stand on my board a little better, and I enjoyed watching Briggs flex his proverbial surfing muscles. It was a perfect activity to break the ice between us.

  When the heat of the day started to wane, he tugged me from the ocean by my hand, took me back to his house, and led me right up the stairs and into his master bathroom. Laughing, we peeled each other out of our wetsuits, and then quietly made love under the hot water. It wasn’t hurried or frenzied, though, it was lazy and thorough. Slow and deep. I thought he was trying to memorize every part of my body with his mouth and hands, and I did the same.

  When I came, it was with my mouth open against his, but no sound. Just breaths and thumping of heartbeats. He followed a few moments later, but only with a quiet grunt. He kissed me then, the water trailing down our faces, but we didn’t care.

  After a few moments, he pulled out, leaving me empty in so many ways, and said, looking down at me with his hands on either side of my neck, “We’ve got to get ready to go if we’re going to get to Porter and Ella’s on time.”

  “Okay,” I whispered in agreement.

  An hour later we were pulling out of his driveway.

  I’d managed to throw together a casual yet flattering outfit, but looked plain and frumpy standing next to Briggs in his tight-in-all-the-right-places jeans, green polo shirt, and boots. The man hardly tried to look attractive but managed to pull it off regardless. I wasn’t complaining. Well, not really.

  “Do you think we have five minutes to spare so I could pop into the store and grab something for Ella?” I asked, using the fold-down mirror in his truck to swipe some gloss across my lips.

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Flowers, maybe. Or wine if the flowers aren’t great. Just something to give her to say thanks for having us over.”

  “That’s a thing?”

  “What?”

  “You’re supposed to bring something when you go over to someone’s house for dinner? It’s just a barbeque.” He looked over at me for just a moment, laughing.

  I shrugged. “It’s nice to bring the hostess a gift. Plus, I want Ella to like me.” I couldn’t say the words out loud, but what I meant was, I wanted Ella to like me more than she’d liked his ex-wife. I knew Patrick was his best friend, but it definitely seemed like they’d all met his ex. I needed to leave some sort of lasting impression, wanted them to remember me as the nice woman he’d seen after the mess of his divorce. Plus, Ella was sweet and kind. I could totally see us being friends if our circumstances were different. If my relationship with Briggs was different.

  “Ella would like you regardless of whether or not you brought her a gift.”

  “Okay, but that doesn’t change my mind about wanting to bring one.” I smiled sweetly at him, and it worked. Of course, I knew it would, so I wasn’t surprised when he pulled into the parking lot of the only grocery store in town. He parked and I turned to him.

  “You don’t have to come in. I’m just going to run in real quick.”

  “You’re going to pick out wine, and I’ll pick out some flowers.” He tried to sound as if he were irritated by the idea, but I knew better. Knew him better. He wanted to give Ella the flowers just as much as I did.

  We were ten minutes late to Ella and Porter’s house, but Briggs couldn’t find a bouquet he liked enough, so I finally convinced him to go with the bundle of wildflowers. I thought it would suit her. I was right. She melted when he held them out to her, and I could have sworn I heard a quiet growl from Porter. She hadn’t even finished smelling them before he’d taken them from her hands and found a vase to put them in. She laughed at Porter, but thanked Briggs warmly.

  “You want a beer?” Porter asked Briggs, all signs of irritation gone. He didn’t wait for an answer, just pulled two beers from the fridge and handed one to Briggs. “Let’s go talk about something manly on the porch.”

  I couldn’t hold in my laughter and neither could Ella, although hers was accompanied by a small eye roll. Porter passed Ella and kissed her right below her ear, making her squeal. My eyes shot to Briggs and caught him staring at me. Before he walked out of the door with Porter he winked at me. I blushed, but tried to keep my reaction under control. It apparently didn’t get past Ella.

  “So things with Briggs are still going well?” she asked, arranging the wild flowers in the vase Porter had filled with water for her. She kept her eyes on the flowers, but I knew she was absolutely interested in my answer to her question.

  “Things are good.” I didn’t want to give away too much information. My relationship with Briggs was complicated enough, and honestly, I wanted it all for myself. Giving away a piece of what I felt for Briggs was almost painful. There was so little between us as it was; giving parts away tore at me.

  “Momma! Andrew is awake!” This came from the dark-haired girl who came running into the kitchen, out of breath and jumping up and down.

  “Thanks for telling me, Mattie. Want to help me get him ready for dinner?”

  “Yeah!” The little girl continued jumping up and down in excitement.

  “First, Mattie, I want to introduce you to my friend.” Ella pointed in my direction and the little girl turned around, smiling widely, but calming considerably. “Talia, this is my daughter, Mattie.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” the little girl said, walking toward me with her hand extended in the cutest little greeting ever.

  I knelt down so we were at eye-level and took her hand in mine. “It’s nice to meet you, Mattie. How old are you?”

  “I’m four years old.” She told me her age like it was the biggest accomplishment, as though being four were the most important job she’d ever had.

  “Wow, you’re so big and smart,” I replied, smiling.

  “Daddy says I’m too smart.” Ella laughed behind her daughter.

  “Daddy thinks you’re too much of a lot of things.”

  “Andrew wants out,” Mattie reminded her mother.

  “Want to come meet Andrew?” Ella asked me.

  “I’d love to.”

  I followed behind Ella, who followed behind Mattie, all the way up to the second floor of the tall beach house. As I neared the top of the stairs I could definitely hear a small child squealing from behind a closed door. Mattie pushed the door open and strode into the roo
m without a care and I followed Ella in, pausing just inside the door.

  The walls were painted a soft blue, like a cloudless sky, and the room was furnished with all white wood. Crib, chair, changing table, bookshelf—all white. Gray and dark blue accents adorned the room and it was adorable.

  “Mama,” I heard a voice call, and my eyes were drawn to the chubby-faced little boy bouncing in the crib.

  “Hello, baby boy,” Ella said in a sweet, mother-in-love voice I’d heard Angela use around her own children. She picked him up and pressed a loud kiss to his round cheek. He giggled and she smiled. “Talia, this is Andrew.”

  “He’s almost two,” Mattie supplied, already standing on a little white stool next to the changing table. I was beginning to realize this was a ritual.

  Ella picked him up and carried him to the changing table, talking to him with sweet words as she peeled off his clothes and changed his diaper. Every step of the way Mattie was there, taking clothes from her mother and putting them in the hamper and handing her a clean diaper.

  “You look like a good helper,” I said to Mattie when I caught her eye.

  “Mamma says I am going to be a good mommy one day.”

  “I think she’s right.”

  “One day, twenty or twenty-five years in the future,” Ella said with a laugh, giving me a smile.

  “Are you a mommy?” Mattie asked me with the innocence only children can obtain.

  “Nope, not yet. One day, though, maybe.”

  “Let’s go see what Daddy needs,” Ella said, giving Mattie’s butt a light tap, urging her off the stool. She then hiked the hefty boy onto her hip, giving his cheek a squeeze. “I can’t with these cheeks,” she said when she caught me smiling.

  “They look irresistible.”

  I followed them down the stairs, enamored by Mattie and how she seemed to rule the house. She walked right out the sliding door onto the porch and asked her father, “Daddy, do you need anything?”