by Tawna Fenske
“Just up here. They make amazing Reubens—just how you like them, with pastrami instead of corned beef. They make their own sauerkraut and their own Russian dressing, plus the bread is unreal.”
“That sounds amazing.” And a little sweet that he remembered her sandwich preferences. The last guy she’d dated—Ben—kept showing up with coconut macadamia nut ice cream, even though she’d told him over and over she was allergic to macadamia nuts.
But Tony remembered how she liked her sandwich, even though she was almost positive they’d only had Reubens together once. She reached for her seat belt as Tony eased them into a spot in front of the sandwich shop. “How about you walk Fireball, and I’ll go grab the sandwiches?” he offered.
“Deal.” Hopping out of the Jeep, she felt her phone vibrate in her purse. She pulled it to answer a call from her youngest sister as she clipped Fireball’s leash into place.
“Hey, Kristin.”
“Guess what!”
Her sister’s exuberance had Kayla thumbing down the volume on her phone to spare her eardrums. “What?”
“I’m pregnant!”
“Oh my God, congratulations!” Now Kayla was shouting, startling an elderly woman who was on her way in to the sandwich shop. She mouthed an apology, shifting the phone to her other ear as she led Fireball over to a patch of grass. “How far along?”
“Eight weeks, give or take,” she said. “We’re only telling immediate family right now.”
“I’m so happy for you, Kris.” She was; she really was.
And yet…
“This is the best news,” Kayla insisted, wiping away tears as Fireball lifted his leg on a dead shrub. “How are you feeling?”
“I feel amazing. No morning sickness like Kelly or Katie had, knock on wood.”
“I can’t wait to meet another little niece or nephew.” Kayla winced, knowing that “meeting” the other kids was all she’d ever really done. She hadn’t been so great at getting home to spend time with her family.
Selfish. You’re a selfish, selfish person.
Kayla swallowed back another wave of emotion as she headed toward a patch of grass that looked inviting for a dog.
“We’re thinking of naming him Michael, after Dad,” Kristin said. “If it’s a boy, I mean. Or even if it’s a girl, we could do a feminine spin on it. Michelle or Mikki.”
“Dad’ll love that.” Kayla rummaged in her purse for a dog doody bag, still scolding herself for thinking of…well, herself. “How about Mikala?”
“Oooh, we’ll add that to the list.” There was some muffled chatter, then another excited burst from her sister. “Oh! Guess who I saw yesterday?”
Kayla averted her gaze while Fireball did his thing. “Um…Mr. Baker from Brush Elementary?”
“Ack, no. You just made this awkward.”
“Why don’t you just tell me, and we can skip all the awkwardness?”
“Someone you slept with,” she said. “So definitely not your fifth-grade teacher.”
The former didn’t narrow things down all that much, which Kayla refused to feel ashamed about. She’d enjoyed a robust sex life, with plenty of lovers in her thirty-one years. Was Kristin really going to make her run through all of them in the parking lot of a sandwich shop?
She bent down to pick up after her pup. “I take it this is someone we both know?”
“Oh, yeah. Remember Rick? The one who cheated on you with Amy Plimpton?”
“Ugh. He’s still in town?”
“Just moved back. And get this—he’s a cop now.”
A flutter of awareness moved through her. “He always did have that whole ‘noble hero’ thing going for him.”
“Until he nailed Amy, you mean?”
“A flawed hero.” She tossed the baggie in a trash can and dug through her purse for hand sanitizer. “No one’s perfect.”
“True, but you’ve definitely picked some doozies.” Kristin laughed, warming up now. “Remember that guy in college, the Army reservist—Shane something?”
“Shane Samples.” Not a cheater but a serial commitment-phobe. He’d break up with her, then woo her back with flowery words and great sex. Another month would pass, and they’d do the whole thing again.
A sour ball formed in the pit of Kayla’s stomach. No wonder she wasn’t getting anywhere closer to marriage and kids, if this was the sort of guy she dated. If she was right about Tony’s commitment issues, he fit right into the mix.
“Shane’s married now, with three kids,” Kayla said. “I guess he got over the commitment thing.”
“Sure, or he’s cheating. Definitely dodged a bullet with that one, Kay. You’ve got the right idea, staying single and carefree.”
Kayla swallowed hard, reminding herself to take that as a compliment. “That’s me. Livin’ the dream.” She cleared her throat, eager to steer the conversation in a safer direction. “I get to take your maternity photos, right?”
“Sure, if you ever get your ass home for a visit.” She laughed to let Kayla know she was kidding, but there was an edge to it. “Seriously, come visit soon. I’ve been bragging to my friends about my famous photographer sister. Everyone’s jealous of the cool career.”
Kayla knew she should feel flattered, but mostly, she felt…empty. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “I’ll try to come soon.”
Alone. Again. Even if Kristin admired Kayla’s single status, that wouldn’t be the case with most people. She’d run into an old classmate or an elderly aunt and hear all about how she needed to hurry up—the clock was ticking—did she think she’d ever meet anyone?
“Look, I’ve gotta run.” She could feel her anxiety mounting, so it was time to end the call. “Congratulations, sweetie. I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks, Kay.” A pause. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, it’s just…I’m great.” No need to burden her sister by feeling sorry for herself.
But Kristin somehow read between the lines. “Hey.” Her voice softened with kindness. “You’re fine being single, but if that’s not what you want, it’ll happen eventually. Don’t get discouraged.”
And there were the tears again. Kayla dashed them away as she watched Fireball roll in a fluffy patch of grass. “Love you, Kristin.”
“Love you, too.”
She clicked off, pushing back a niggling sense of unease as she led her dog back toward the Jeep.
This wasn’t about her. She was happy for her sister. Thrilled.
But yeah, if she ever wanted the husband and kids… Well, what the hell was taking so long?
She glanced up to see Tony striding out of the sandwich shop. Her heart did a little squeeze, and she waved before forcing herself to look away.
Not him. Anyone but him.
As she took a deep breath, her heart gave another painful clench.
…
“Oh my God, you weren’t kidding.”
Kayla bit into her sandwich again, groaning in a way that sent half of Tony’s blood supply surging south.
“Told you.” He took a bite of his own sandwich and reached for the remote. It lay tucked between them on the bed, nestled beneath Fireball’s rump. The dog groaned and opened one eye, then closed it again as Tony withdrew the remote.
Kayla smiled and stroked a hand down the dog’s back. “It’s okay. He’ll give it back when we’re done.”
Tony flicked the TV on. “What do you feel like watching?”
She swallowed a sip of ginger beer. “Were you serious about romantic comedy?”
“Yeah, why not?”
Shrugging, she set down her soda bottle. “Thought maybe you were kidding.”
“I never kid about comedy.”
“All right.” She looked thoughtful, her blue eyes glinting in the flicker of the television. “Ever seen Vicky
Cristina Barcelona? It has Scarlett Johansson and Penélope Cruz. Woody Allen directed.”
“What’s it about?”
“A couple of friends who go to Barcelona and hook up with the same guy—a painter played by Javier Bardem. Then his crazy ex-wife enters the picture. She’s played by Penélope Cruz. There’s a threesome thing, so that’s why I thought of it.”
The other half of Tony’s blood headed south, and he adjusted the sandwich bag over his lap to mask his response. It wasn’t just the threesome suggestion, either. Kayla had insisted on making this a pajama party, which left her snuggled up beside him in thin leggings and a strappy pink tank top with a built-in bra thing.
He knew this because he remembered stripping it off of her last year, laughing as the elastic tangled in her hair.
“What the hell is this thing?” he’d asked, flinging the garment aside. “It’s like some kind of chastity belt for boobs.”
Kayla had laughed, tossing her hair as he eased her back onto the bed. “You’ve gotta work for the goods, Mister Fireman.”
God, he’d forgotten she used to call him that. Not for long—not after they split up. He could never decide if he liked the nickname or if it felt weird being reduced to a profession that wasn’t technically even his.
“Hello? Earth to Tony.” She waved a hand, pulling him back to the hotel room and the bed where they sat fully-clothed and perfectly chaste. “What’s the verdict on the Woody Allen flick?”
He cleared his throat, hoping to do the same with the sex on his brain. “Maybe no threesome stuff,” he said. “I’m scarred from the mix-up with Courtney.”
She studied his face, a look he knew well. It was the look she gave him when she was trying to figure out if he was kidding or not.
Sometimes, even he wasn’t sure.
“Okay, no threesomes,” she said. “How do you feel about sexually confident women who drink too much and sleep around and give zero fucks what anyone else thinks?”
“I’m in favor,” he said without hesitating. “They’re my favorite.”
Kayla laughed. “Let’s go with Trainwreck. It’s a Judd Apatow film written by Amy Schumer. She stars in it, too.”
“I think I saw the trailer for that. Bill Hader’s in it, right?”
“Yep. It’s sexy and funny and has an interesting take on commitment issues.”
He lifted his soda can and took a swig. “Am I getting my head shrunk again?” He didn’t mind, really. He’d watch anything with Kayla sitting here next to him looking lush and warm and utterly delicious.
She grinned like she’d just read his mind. “You’ll like it. I promise.”
It took him a second to remember they were talking about the movie. Aiming the remote at the screen, he toggled to the movie service. “What do I get if I don’t like it?”
She pretended to ponder. “I won’t give you crap about licking all the filling out of your Oreos before you eat them. I might even let you lick the filling out of mine.”
“Is this supposed to be turning me on?”
She grabbed a throw pillow and whacked him with it, giving him an exasperated noise. “You’re the worst.”
“Thank you.”
Fireball got up and moved, disgusted with the humans. He hopped down and trotted into his kennel, where he curled into a ball, sighing at the inconvenience.
Tony located the movie and hit a few buttons on the remote. Seconds later, the film began to play.
Kayla shifted closer, her hair brushing his biceps. He resisted the urge to put his arm around her, to pull her close the way he’d done countless times. There was nothing sexual about it. Just two people sharing body heat, getting comfortable to watch a movie.
But something held him back. Something about the shift between them these past few days. Had they fucked up the casual ease of their friendship?
Beside him, Kayla shifted again, and Tony grew more conscious of what was happening on-screen. Amy Schumer’s character was on a date and thoroughly enjoying it as the guy buried his face between her thighs and—
“More chips?” Kayla’s voice was high and tight as she offered the chip bag to him.
He turned to face her, noticing the flush in her cheeks. “I’m good.”
A memory flickered through him: the times he made Kayla come like that. The way she tasted, sweet and warm on his tongue. The tensing in her body just seconds before she exploded.
On-screen, Amy’s character came with a little less fanfare. Then she feigned sleep—a moment that was supposed to make the audience laugh.
Tony wasn’t laughing. He was thinking about Kayla. About this tension in the room and the fact that something had been crackling between them ever since that night at the bar.
Maybe they could do this. Treat sex like a simple transaction with no need to involve emotions. It seemed to work for Amy Schumer’s character. Just a happy wham, bam, thanks for the orgasm, man.
It could be like that for him and Kayla, just this once. Why not? Their friendship was solid, and they knew each other’s bodies intimately.
Tony picked up the remote and hit pause. Kayla looked up, startled.
He cleared his throat. “Think that’s possible?”
She cocked her head. “You mean how fast she got off?” She laughed, cheeks flushing just a little. “If a guy’s good at going down on her, you bet.”
Oh, Christ. He knew she hadn’t meant it as a challenge, but his inner caveman heard it that way. Suddenly, he could think of nothing else. He definitely remembered Kayla coming quickly like that, but he hadn’t spent much time considering the connection between speed and his particular skill.
She was still watching him, still flushed and beautiful and staring at his mouth in a way that made him think he wasn’t the only one with sex on the brain.
“How’d I do?”
Kayla blinked. “What?”
“At oral sex. I mean, we’ve been focusing so much on past relationships. This feels like something worth critiquing.”
Damn, but his ego would take a hit if she said he sucked at it. He could deal, he could take it, but man…
“Um, well.” Kayla licked her lips. “I had zero complaints in that department.” Her blush deepened as she glanced at his mouth again. “You were pretty great at it, as I recall.”
Hot damn. His ego shouldn’t love that so much, but it did. So did the rest of him, though not as much as the memories flooding his senses now. Kayla, soft and sweet with her thighs parted just for him. The first taste of her, slick on his tongue. And the sounds she made—the soft whimpering as she tipped her head back. God, what he wouldn’t give for another shot at that.
He cleared his throat. “Maybe I should hone my skills.”
“What?” The word squeaked out breathy and high.
“It wouldn’t have to mean anything,” he said quickly. “Just like in the movie. Purely transactional. You’d get off, and I’d get…practice.”
Kayla choked out a laugh. “You hardly need practice.”
“A wager, then. You like bets.”
She eyed him warily, but he could see the heat in her eyes. “What’s the bet?”
“I don’t know—whether or not I can get you off in under five minutes?”
Her laughter made the bed bounce. “Who’s the winner and who’s the loser in this scenario?”
Tony grinned. “We’d both be winning.”
“You’re such a dude.” She rolled her eyes and bumped him with her elbow.
So that was a no? He deserved that. It was a dumb idea. He opened his mouth to tell her he’d been kidding, but she beat him to it.
“Okay.”
Tony stared at her. “Okay?”
“Okay, you can go down on me.”
Holy shit. He held his breath, waiting for the punch line. Waiting for her to hi
t him with the pillow again and tell him he was a big, raging horndog.
But she wasn’t laughing. She was smiling her sweet, naughty Kayla smile—the one that never failed to send his dick throbbing.
“You’re serious.”
“If you are.” She fingered the strap on her tank top. “I’m all about helping you learn and grow and better yourself as a human.” Her grin broke wider, and she tossed her hair as she laughed. “I’m totally kidding.”
He fought the sinking in his chest. “About letting me go down on you?”
“No, about you needing to build your skills.” She licked her lips again. “You don’t need practice, and we sure as hell don’t need another bet. But I need to get off. And far be it from me to turn down a hot guy who wants to make me come.”
His heart burst in his chest, and he fought to keep it under control. This was just physical. Nothing more, nothing less. He needed to ignore the lamplight glinting in her hair, the way her laugh made his chest tighten.
“God, I want you.” He shouldn’t say that; he knew he shouldn’t. This was just a transaction—a friends-with-benefits thing.
But she smiled, and his heart stuttered again.
“Yeah,” she murmured. “The feeling’s mutual.”
Feelings. He fought to keep his at bay as he set the remote on the nightstand and shifted to straddle her legs. Brushing her neck with his jaw, he breathed her in. As his lips skimmed her earlobe, he felt her shiver.
“I’m dying to taste you, Kayla,” he murmured, making her shiver again. “I’ve been thinking about this for days.”
“Yes, please.” She gripped the back of his head, body arching up against him. “I need this.”
So did he, for reasons he couldn’t fully fathom. But there was no time to puzzle it out. If he didn’t taste her in about ten seconds, he was going to lose it. He reached down and caught the waistband of her leggings, tugging them down her legs. Her panties came with them, tangled in a lacy ball as he tossed her clothes aside and shouldered his way between her thighs.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Was it okay to say that to a woman while looking at her pussy? He hoped so, because dammit, he loved her perfect pink folds. She was already wet for him, her clit beckoning him like a sweet cherry. “So goddamn pretty.”