by Tara Brown
He pokes his head out the doorway, giving me that look, the one where he’s going to say something shitty. “Really? You didn't pout and cry and hide in my bedroom playing NHL 16 against my brother for hours? That didn't happen?”
“Whatever.”
“You made us stay in a hotel because you refused to sleep at Sami’s on the off chance she came home unexpectedly.”
“It’s fine. I ruined Christmas. I get it.” I clench my jaw and start unpacking another box.
“Nat. Come on, babe.” He puts the box down and comes to me, sweeping me into his arms. “I don't want to fight.” He kisses the top of my head, taking a deep inhale. I want to push him away but the feel of him wrapped around me is exactly what I need. It’s calming and forces reason down my throat.
He’s right.
I’ve been hateful for days.
“I’m sorry.” I say the thing I don't want to but have to. “I hate that I ruined our first Christmas.”
“Don't sweat it, Banks. We’ll have lots of Christmases.” He kisses again, lingering and breathing me in. He smells like deodorant and a bit of sweat. It’s him. The smell that gets me every time.
My hands drag up and down his chiseled back, slowly making their way forward to his chest. I slide them up his muscles, letting my fingertips dig in and scrape a bit on the way down.
He gets the hint I’m giving and makes the move I want him to. He lowers his hands to my butt, cupping and lifting me into his arms. I wrap my legs around him, letting him carry me to the bedroom, savoring the smell of him as he brings me to the bed. The new mattress is still covered in plastic but it doesn't stop us.
His lips make a trail from my neck to my cheek as he puts me down, stepping back and sighing. “Might be the best view I’ve ever had.”
“What?” The comment makes my cheeks flush more than the humiliation of ruining Christmas like a jerk.
“You in our bed, wearing my Superman tee shirt, in our apartment.” He bites his lip. “This is perfection.”
“Then stop staring and get over here.” I blush harder and reach for his belt, pulling him to me. He cups my face, like he always does, and lowers his.
The kiss is everything, light and teasing. Slowly our mouths melt into each other, tongues caressing and lips sucking. My heart rate picks up with my breath as his fingers spider walk to the hem of the tee shirt I stole from him. He drags it off, getting rougher as the desire builds in us both. I shiver from the coolness of being shirtless.
His hands caress my bare back, unsnapping my bra and lowering it to toss to the side. I return the favor, helping him undo his belt and buttons.
He pushes me back on the bed, running his palms over my stomach and chest, massaging my breasts when he covers them. He traps each of my nipples between his fingers, rolling them softly.
A moan escapes my lips as he lowers over me, his warm breath making me gasp as he takes a nipple in his mouth. He draws me in, flicking with his tongue while still rolling the other nipple. My hips start to gyrate, rubbing my pelvis on his leg that’s between mine.
He switches nipples, sucking in the other as his hands slide down my stomach, running a fingertip inside the waistline of my pants. Slowly he moves it lower, trapping his meaty fingers in my pants. I free him, undoing the button and zipper. He chuckles into my chest. “What do you want, baby?” He dips his fingertips into my underwear. “You want this?”
“Yeah.”
His fingers slide down my slit, making me realize I’m already in the mood for this. He rubs in a circular motion, delicately massaging the tender flesh.
My writhing and moaning becomes more aggressive as he does. He kisses up my chest to my neck, gently placing soft pecks on my collarbone but flooding the area with warmth from his breath as he whispers, “I love how wet you get for me.” He slides a finger inside me but keeps rubbing me with his thumb, moving the hand perfectly. It’s bordering on too much when the climax hits. My body clamps down, pulsating with the orgasm I’m having around his hand.
He kisses my cheek, dragging his scruffy face against me. Waves of pleasure roll through me, delivering a release I didn’t know I needed.
“Oh my God, that was good.” I huff my breath as I recover, blinking and licking my lips.
“It’s about to get better.” He pulls his pants down and slides a condom on. He’s not gentle when he flips me over and hauls me to the edge of the bed, dragging my ass back to meet him. “I am going to fuck you so hard you’ll forget Christmas even happened.” He slides the head of his cock up and down my slit, pushing in when he gets to the right spot.
I gasp into the plastic wrap on the mattress as he fills me up.
“You ready to take it all?” He doesn't wait for the answer as he gives me one last gentle thrust before his fingers dig into my hips, bringing me to the position he wants and he lets me have it.
He grunts and massages my ass as he slides in and out, faster than I’m ready for. The bed is so high on the frame I can just touch the floor, but I don't need to with the way he holds me in place and pumps into me, pinning me to the mattress. He folds over me, slowing the pace and kissing my back and neck. “God, you feel good.” The weight of him pressing me into the mattress and his body pushing into mine is divine.
He caresses as I gyrate against him, rubbing my stimulated clit into the edge of the mattress. His body slamming into the back of mine sends tingles everywhere as he speeds up, dragging his entire shaft in and out.
I close my eyes and tighten everywhere, letting the bliss of a second orgasm start to build. His pace is perfect, bringing me to a plateau and leaving me there for a couple of moments before the orgasm hits, claiming me and rolling inside me again.
“Oh fuck, I can’t.” He pounds faster, squeezing me and groaning. His harder thrusts bring louder cries from me as he fills the condom, twitching and jerking. He slumps over me again, breathing heavily. My breaths fight to come out in gasps with the weight of him over me. “Fuck, I love you and just want to make this bed up and do the girlie cuddling thing until round two,” he murmurs into my neck, like it makes up for the quickie, “but we gotta finish unpacking first.” He gets up and slaps my ass. “Come on, Banks.”
“You don't love me at all,” I moan into the sweaty plastic and push myself up, waddling to the bathroom.
“Whatever.” He smiles, red-faced and satisfied-looking. “I wore a condom so you wouldn't have a drip—”
“Stop! Whatever you’re about to say, don't.” I hold a hand up and push him out of the bathroom, slamming the door. “Gross.”
“Babe, I gotta clean up too.”
“Go use the other bathroom. You’re disgusting, Brady!” I can’t help but laugh. There’s no denying some of it’s laughing at myself for dating the knuckle dragger.
We unpack for hours, getting it done just in time. He isn’t like Sami; he doesn’t talk when he works. He just does. And when I talk he gives me a look like he’s tolerating what I have to say but it better end soon.
I miss Sami.
Even if she got engaged to an asshat after she spent all that time telling me I could do better.
I use all the unpacking silence to rant about her in my head. It’s almost therapy.
“See,” Brady interrupts my inner bitch session, “I told you we could get it done.” His grin turns to the dirty one that I love and hate equally. “All you needed was a little motivation.” He winks and flattens the last box. “A little lubrication to get the wheels moving.”
“Gross.” I wipe the counters down, loving the feel of the granite. I always loved Sami’s marble counters in her houses.
“You liked it.” He chuckles and comes over, wrapping around me and kissing the side of my neck. “And later, probably tomorrow, we can have sex in the bed.”
“You are better in a bed,” I mock him.
“You know I am.” He spins me around, placing a soft kiss on my lips.
“I think you’re also good in seedy bars and I suspec
t elevators.”
“No.” He shakes his head, turning serious. “No elevators. I can’t.”
The conversation is interrupted by knocking.
“They’re here!” His eyes light up. He and Mike Smolensky are basically soul mates. Like him and Asshat Matt. He opens the door, shouting, “Smolensky!” They hug like they haven’t seen each other in years, as opposed to weeks.
“Blow Job!” They embrace like lovers.
Liz creeps around the beastly guys making out, smiling wide at me. “Hey!”
“Hey!” She and I hug in a much more civil way. She doesn't wrap her leg around me or slap me in the lady balls . . .
“This place is great.” She checks out the apartment. “I love the white cabinets and the sparkly white granite together. It’s so fresh and clean. And tile floor in the kitchen, so much better than laminate.”
I turn and face the apartment with her, marveling at what it all looks like. Our black leather couches contrast well with the light maple floors and pale icy-blue walls. “Yeah, the vaulted ceilings and huge wall of windows overlooking the park is what I like the best. It’s the same in the master bedroom too.”
“The fireplace is awesome.” She strolls over, admiring everything. “It’s so grown up.”
“I know, right?” I gush with her and move the tour to the games room. It consists of one sofa, a large TV, an Xbox, PlayStation, and a Wii. “We still have surround sound to set up, but other than that, this room’s done. The sofa turns into a bed.” I grin. “It’s like a guest room where guests can entertain themselves.”
“After they fight you for the game controller,” she mutters. “It was so grown up. This room here killed it.”
“Whatever.” I walk to the door and guide her to the other bedroom as Brady leads Mike into the games room. Their booming voices make me laugh.
“So is there a rule where Nat has to let you win a couple times?” Mike chuckles.
“Shut up.” Brady has no response.
“He doesn't stand a chance.” Liz laughs and enters the bedroom. “Wow, this is nice. And an en suite? This is a huge apartment.” She spins, taking it all in. The room looks plain with only a bed and two bedside tables.
“We have to get lamps and more hangers. Someone has a lot of clothes.” My eyes dart to the doorway. Liz laughs and opens the walk-in closet.
“This is nice.” She turns back, giving me a grin. “Okay, he does have a lot of clothes. You guys are like official and everything.”
“Very.” My eyes widen.
“Take a breath. It’s just living together. You haven’t signed a contract for the rest of your life. Everyone does it.” Her eyes dart to the doorway. “Apparently, we aren’t far behind you.” Her voice lowers, “He asked me to move in with him this summer.”
“Oh my God. Really?” I can’t believe it. Another one of my friends and Brady’s? At least Mike is actually a nice guy, not a shit like Matt.
“Yeah, Mike’s moving to New York in a few weeks. He’s been offered the contract where he finishes the season with New York and then he can be free something or other again and play for other teams.”
“Very cool. Is he going to try to stay in New York?”
“No. He hates the winter here. He wants to go to LA or Florida or somewhere like that.” She bites her lip, almost wincing. “So he wants me to move with him. Move in together.”
“Dude.”
She tucks her dark hair behind her ears. “I know. It makes me nervous but it also feels right.” She gushes a laugh. “I mean, why not? Ya know? Why not take a chance and see what happens? I mean, I can work from home. I don't need to be in an office.”
“That’s very true.”
“Anyway, I don't want to jinx it. Summer is a ways away. And him being in New York for the rest of winter and spring will be a good test for us, to see if it works for us to be apart. See how we really feel about each other.” Her pale cheeks are a soft pink. I don't know how red she actually gets. She’s incredibly pasty. “How was Christmas?”
“Shit,” I blurt before thinking and cover my mouth. “I mean, it was intense. Brady got the apartment and asked me to move in and I was really excited, and then Sami got engaged or something. She says she isn’t but there’s a ring.”
“What!” Her eyes pop open wide. She couldn't be more surprised.
“Thank you. My response too.”
“Sami Ford is getting married? To who?”
“Exactly. That is my point exactly. She and Matt don't have anything beyond bed buddies status. I mean, he’s basically made her a puck buddy and now she’s going to marry him? Like gross.”
“Oh my God. That's awful. Why?” Her horrified face matches my disgusted outlook on the subject.
“Not a clue. I assume her parents. Her dad wants decisions out of her. He sees her as a commodity that needs to start earning its keep. She has to marry for money—Matt’s family is crazy rich—or she has to start working. She’s taking crap subjects in school that will never get her a real job. Which is fine for her; she’s lazy like all rich people so she’s going to marry and get her dad off her back. And she thinks I can’t see this. She looked miserable when she accidentally told me. That’s the other thing. She didn't even call me to tell me she was engaged, she—”
“Banks, are you ruining New Year’s too?” Brady calls from the other room where I can already hear the video games going.
“Shut up,” I snap and storm into the kitchen to open wine.
Liz follows, whispering, “That is awful. I can’t believe someone would—”
“Rich people. They live the most messed up existences.” I lower my voice even more as I pour us both a glass and pass one to her before leading her to the couches in front of the fireplace. “All of my friends’ parents are married to people their parents handpicked. No one makes up their own mind about anything. And Sami has always been the one to rebel. I really thought I knew her better than this.”
“Maybe they love each other.” Liz shrugs.
“No.” I shake my head. “She doesn't love him. She doesn't know how to love. No one ever showed her that kind of love.”
I hate saying it but it’s true. Her whole life is so fake, there’s no way Sami had a hope to be anything but. I wish she could be as happy as Liz and me. I wish she knew certainty the way I do. Brady Coldwell is all I want. And I can tell by the look on Liz’s face, Mike is everything to her.
Chapter 4
Dinner and show
May 24, 2015
Sami
Smearing plumper lip gloss across my lips, I rub and smack them once, giving myself the final once-over. Whatever this stupid date is, I need to make sure I don't give into anything. It’s been hard but I’ve maintained a sex-free relationship with him, even if he makes me weak in the knees just by walking.
“Sami?”
“What!” I shout at my mom harsher than I intended to.
“You had better watch how you speak to me.” She enters the room, looking pissed. “What is going on with you? Nadia is crying. She won’t tell me what happened, but I think I know now.” She folds her thin arms across her fake chest. “Why are you in such a foul mood?”
“Whatever. I just want everyone to leave me alone.”
“You will apologize to her or you will lose your staff.” She tilts her head, like she’s daring me to say another thing. I contemplate it, but don't. “Nadia!” mom shouts, clearly annoyed.
Nadia enters red-eyed and her face is puffy. I don't even know what I did to her. I’m wracking my brain but nothing stands out.
“You will tell me what happened, Nadia.” Mom doesn't turn and look at Nadia, she doesn't have to. She’s sort of like the evil stepmom to Nadia’s Cinderella. She fears my mother more than anyone in the world. I roll my eyes at it frequently. But not today.
“I’m being sensitive, Mrs. Ford. It was nothing.”
“Nadia.” I start to feel bad. “What happened?”
“It-it was
when you asked me if I felt almost as stupid as I was, in front of Vincenzo.” Her eyes well again and she looks down.
“Oh my God. I said that? I’m sorry.” I say it fast, too fast. I hate that I snapped at her. “I’m really sorry, Nadia.” Honestly, I don't even recall saying it. I can’t think of the moment it happened.
But Nadia is the best, so it did. She doesn't make things up or complain.
“Sami—”
“Mom, I get it.” My gaze hardens as it hits her. “I know. I’m in a horrible mood and I’m sorry. No one deserves to be spoken to that way, it won’t happen again.” I give Nadia an attempt at a smile. “I’m really sorry.”
“It’s fine.” She nods, desperate to be away from this awkwardness.
Mom gives me a once-over, cocking an eyebrow. “Where are you going?”
“Out with a friend.”
“Not that Brimley boy again.” She spits his name.
“He’s richer than we are. How can you possibly disapprove of him?”
“That’s very nice for him and his family. But your father and Richard Palfrey have been speaking about you and Zachary spending time together. We were sort of hoping to all have a weekend together here soon. The families were thinking perhaps a weekend at their family cottage.”
“No thanks. I have school.” I walk past her, offering Nadia a look. “I really am sorry.” I leave the room, pausing down the hall as my mom speaks.
“How often does that Brimley boy come here?”
“He doesn't.”
“Nadia, don't misplace your loyalty.” My mother sounds fierce. I could slap her for trying to get Nadia to betray me.
“I’m not, Mrs. Ford. Mr. Brimley doesn't come here. He came at Christmas and slept in a separate room. I believe they’re just friends.”
“Well, I’m not convinced,” she snaps.
I hurry to the next room, ducking in the doorway so she walks past me, clicking her heels in protest.
When Nadia strolls past I grab her arm, causing her to jump. I slide a finger to my lips. “Thanks,” I whisper.
“I’m sorry I told her.”