I think back to the cake-tasting disaster and inwardly groan. Thank God they’re trying on dresses today because I can’t deal with a repeat of yesterday, at least not so soon. Witnessing Rachel act like the entitled bridezilla she’s intent on becoming is downright cringeworthy, and it gave me a whole new appreciation for how easygoing Perrie is. Well, how easygoing she used to be.
Our affair and involvement have turned the feisty woman who caught my eye into someone insecure and sophomoric. I’ve spent more time than I’d like to admit trying to see things from her point of view, all in an effort to dissect what I’ve said and done, and I can’t think of anything I’d do differently. The only thing that would’ve prevented this downward spiral of her confidence is not touch her in the first place, and I’m not sure I’d go back and erase that if I could, even with all the trouble she’s causing me.
I like Perrie—God knows I do if her near-permanent residence in my thoughts is any indication—but her inability to take my words at face value is beyond frustrating. It’s bad enough having to see her, especially knowing what we’ve done and what I want to continue to do to her at her behest, but her guilt-tipped barbs and injured pride make things even more muddled than they need to be.
I’ve always been a man of my word, and with the exception of whatever it is we have going on and keeping all my doubts regarding Rachel sealed tight, I’ve been honest with her. Caving in and offering sex and friendship, no strings, wasn’t a request to wait for me. Even if I had asked, part of me thinks she’d still be living in doubt. I don’t know how many times I have to tell her I’m trying to figure things out or explain she isn’t just a fuck toy, but it’s getting really tiring.
And fuck, even with all of that, the things I like about her taunt me with the possibility of happiness. Her fiery temper, her drive to succeed, the tenacity to go for what she wants, her joie de vivre, and her ability to put her heart on her sleeve repeatedly calls to me.
My hands rake through my hair when I realize I’m doing it again, going in circles trying to figure her and my feelings and intentions out.
“Fuck,” I curse out loud.
I should be focusing my time and energy on setting my life to rights. Then, and only then, will I be able to pursue Perrie. Only time will tell if that’s something we’ll both want or if these fucked up circumstances will ruin that too. Honestly, the only other solution I can think of to smooth things over with her is to tell her everything, but I’m not certain I can trust her with the information.
Outside of my close circle, the situation is too delicate. I’m not a gambling man, but things are too delicate to do anything but keep my cards close to my chest. The less people who know, the less chance Rachel has of finding out. Unfortunately for me, Perrie is a wild card, and I’m not sure if I want to play her or pocket her.
Rachel has dragged me to yet another double date, but I play the part of enamored fiancé expertly and don’t show any outward signs of discontent. I’m cordial, affectionate, and dote on her. Naturally, I do all this within reason so it’s believable, but I think she’s becoming convinced that I’m coming around. Inside, though, I’m pacing impatiently, waiting for her to have a misstep so I can strike.
We’re seated at a table inside a popular tapas restaurant, waiting on Perrie and Zane to arrive. I knew without having to ask that they’d be joining us because if I know anything about my conniving girlfriend—or fake fiancée, whatever the hell she is—it’s that she’s a creature of habit. She’s comfortable around Perrie due to their long-standing history, and she doesn’t view her as a threat. The smirk I feel twitching to life dies when I think of how much a threat Perrie is behind the scenes and how I know that fact to be true. Feeling restless, I stretch my arm across the back of Rachel’s chair and massage her neck as I look around the dim, intimate restaurant.
“Well, isn’t this cozy?” Perrie’s words are saccharine, and I know she hates seeing me touch Rachel, even though we are technically together.
I feel guilty about everything that’s transpired, but I push any sentimental emotions aside. There’s too much riding on my ruse to cater to her hurt feelings.
“Cozy indeed,” Rachel agrees obliviously. “He’s been so attentive since finding out about the baby. Honestly, he gives me everything I need before I can finish thinking about it.”
“How considerate of him. If only we could all be so lucky.” I can tell the words are painful for her to say, and I’m a sick bastard for getting aroused by her thinly veiled sarcasm.
Of course, her derision flies right over everyone’s head but mine.
“Yes, but not everyone is. I’m a lucky woman. There’s only one Lawrence, and there’s only one me. We’re a match made in heaven.”
My brow rises sardonically when Perrie snorts and tries to pass it off as a cough, and I pass indifferent eyes over her and her date while I continue to rub Rachel’s neck.
“I’m the lucky one,” I say quietly, and Rachel practically swoons. My words ring with sincerity, and it’s because I’m thinking about all the reasons I’m lucky in life, my current predicament notwithstanding.
Perrie’s eyes bore into mine before she finally lifts the menu to cover her face. Silence falls over the table as we all follow her example and look at the menu. Thankfully, we’re saved from further conversation when the waiter stops by, but awkwardness blankets us again as soon as he leaves.
I have a feeling this is going to be a very entertaining, very long night.
27
Perrie
I’ve had three glasses of wine, but what I really want are a few shots of tequila. I should probably stop gulping down the cool red liquid as soon as it’s placed in front of me, but it’s the only thing keeping me sane throughout this awful dinner.
Zane’s hand hasn’t left my thigh since we sat down, and I’m grateful for the small amount of comfort it brings. Sterling is being extremely attentive and affectionate toward Rachel, and logic is telling me I have no right to be jealous because I have no claim to him. He isn’t mine, he all but begged me not to let him be, and we aren’t in any sort of relationship. We were fucking, past tense, and we were maybe on the road to solidifying a friendship—another thing of the past.
My little outburst the other day at the bakery was a low point for me, and I have no plans to recreate a moment like that. I felt horrible after, like someone so unlike myself, and I was disappointed at my own actions. I shiver at the memory and take a long sip from my glass.
“Rough week, Perrie?” Rachel asks from across the table, and the judgement in her tone is as clear as the glass of cucumber water on the table in front of her.
I smile a little too wide and give a dramatic nod of my head. “The roughest. I’ve been burying myself in work as a distraction from everything else.”
“Everything else, like what?” she asks curiously, and I realize I’ve slipped a little. As far as anyone knows, my life hasn’t changed at all. Well, little do they know…
Even Zane eyes me curiously while Sterling raises a brow in my direction. I school my features and coolly shrug. “I just haven’t felt like myself lately.”
It’s a half-truth, but a truth nonetheless, and that’s as much as I’m willing to share. Though, judging by the subtle throat-clearing Sterling does, I know he knows exactly what I’m referring to.
Us. Our situation. This fucked up situation.
We did it to ourselves. I did it to myself, and I need to take responsibility. At least it ended before any feelings could develop and one or both of us wound up hurt. It’s for the best, it really is.
Cue long sip of wine.
“You should try acupuncture, it’s a miracle worker,” Rachel suggests enthusiastically. “It literally erases any and every feeling of stress from your body and relaxes your mind. I highly recommend it. I can give you the name of my person, if you’d like?”
“I’ll let you know.” I smile sweetly, eyes averting from the hand Sterling has yet to remove
from her body. He’s been quiet but observant, his eyes always drifting between the three of us.
My stomach starts to bubble from the wine and awkwardness of the night, so I flag down our waiter and ask for a glass of water.
“That’s smart,” Zane whispers against my ear. When had he leaned so close? “I want you sober when we fuck tonight.”
On impulse, I suggest the one thing that’ll hopefully erase the memory of Sterling’s body in me, and say loudly enough for the table to hear, “If you’re lucky, I’ll let you place it in the one hole you have yet to claim.”
I ignore the small gasp from Rachel’s side of the table and the heat warming my neck and cheeks, and I turn and lean forward, placing a chaste kiss against Zane’s lips.
“You’re a wild girl, aren’t you?” Zane whispers against my mouth before returning my kiss.
I outwardly cringe at his words. As superficial as it may sound, I really do like him better when he isn’t talking.
Suddenly, the effects of the wine are nonexistent, and a sense of shame washes over me.
What am I doing right now? This person isn’t me. But the situation is so messed up that I feel like I’m starting to lose myself.
It isn’t worth it, and I know it’s not. So you keep saying, I think to myself. A sense of determination sets in, and I excuse myself from the table to use the restroom, avoiding their gazes.
I don’t go to the restroom though. Instead, I bypass those doors and head straight for the service entrance of the restaurant, needing a breather from everyone and a moment to gather myself.
I take in a breath of the cool summer night air and cross my arms over my chest, looking up at the dark sky for something, anything.
I’m not sure how much time passes when I hear the door open behind me. I don’t have to turn to know who it is. I can feel him.
“Go back to your date, there’s no reason for you to check on me,” I say quietly, turning and coming face to face with Sterling. He’s a breadth away, and his breath fans my face softly.
“I’m not checking on you,” he coolly denies. “I’m taking an important business call.”
My eyes narrow. “You are, huh?”
“That’s what our dates think, anyway.” His blue eyes hold a hint of mischief, and I divert my eyes to focus on the brick of the building behind him.
“Seriously, you should go inside. I’ll wait thirty seconds and then follow behind. For all they know, I got the poops or something.”
“The poops?” he questions, and his lips tilt up in a small smile. My eyes return to his.
“Seriously, Sterling, you’ve had your fun with me, so why chase me out into a dark alleyway? This game, whatever it is we were doing, it’s done. I feel sick over it as it is. It was wrong, is wrong. We suck as human beings.” I try to keep my voice level, but it shakes, cracking on every other word. “She’s carrying your child, and as much as I hate who she’s turned into these last several years, she and I have history. I feel disgusting and cheap and like a version of myself I never wanted to be.”
His eyes darken, and his hands run along the length of my arms, stopping against my shoulders and gently gripping.
“Do you really feel that way?” he asks sincerely, eyes holding mine.
“Only when we’re apart,” I tell him honestly. “When we’re together? It feels more right than it should. I’ve missed you.”
It’s silent for several moments after my confession, and just as I’m about to pull from his grasp and head inside, his hands pull my body against his and his lips stop just above mine.
“You asked why I’d chase you out into a dark alleyway?” His voice darkens, and the air surrounding us follows suit. “You already know the answer to that. Do you really need me to say it again?”
“Careful, you actually sound like you care, like you mean it,” I warn, breathing in deep.
“I do mean it, and I’ve been keeping my distance because it’s what’s best, but I’ve missed you too, Perrie, don’t think that I haven’t.”
His honesty is melting me into a puddle, and my body rests against his, my chest rising and falling to the erratic beating of my heart.
“We should head inside,” I say, pulling away before we both do something we shouldn’t, especially with our dates waiting inside for our return.
He doesn’t stop me, but just as my hand reaches the handle, I turn and face him. His eyes roam my features, and I give him a close-lipped smile.
“If you really mean what you say, meet me at my place after dinner tonight,” I quietly say to him.
“What about Zane and the promise that he can fuck you in the ass tonight?” His words are harsh and steady, and I intake a sharp breath. “Don’t ever pull that shit again, Perrie. Next time, I won’t be so kind. You’d be smart to remember that.”
My brows rise in shock, and I sputter out as strongly as I can, “You have no claim to me, Sterling, or my ass. You’d be smart to remember that.”
Just as I stalk into the quiet, intimate restaurant, I swear I hear him curse under his breath.
I bite back a smile as I return to the table and reclaim my spot beside Zane, whose hand finds my thigh again.
Sterling shows up moments later, and if they’re suspicious over our timing or how long we were both away, neither Rachel nor Zane comment on it. The dinner doesn’t last long after that, and we go our separate ways with Rachel making us promise to make it happen again. Of course we all agree, but the reluctance from everyone but Rachel is evident. Why she thinks these double dates are so successful, I’ll never know.
I’m home long enough to slide off my booties when I hear a hard knock on my front door. I don’t have to look through the peephole to know who it is, who I hope it is.
I somehow convinced Zane that I was in the bathroom so long because I started my period, which then led to him trying to convince me he heard sex was three times more enjoyable when that happens. I turned him down and all but sped home.
I swing my door open, and I have a millisecond to react before Sterling has the door closed and my back pressed against the wall. His lips are on mine, and his hands are roaming over my body, sliding the straps of my dress down my arms and pooling my dress around my feet.
I groan as his lips move along my neck down to my chest, gently biting the top of my breast, sucking slowly.
His lips are soft against my skin, which elicits another groan from me in response.
“Timing is a jerk, Sterling, and I’m sorry for my outburst and catty behavior. I was just hurt and afraid,” I apologize with a moan, my back arching as his tongue moves up my skin, stopping against my earlobe. His hot breath causes a trail of goosebumps to form, and I breathe heavily.
“I’m sorry too,” he says, leaning back for a second to catch my eyes. Before I can question his apology, he’s crashing his lips against mine.
It’s frenzied and hard and sensual, and my heart is fluttering in my chest, begging to break free.
I wrap my arms around his neck, and he lifts me by my legs, securing them around his waist.
“Bedroom,” I whimper against his lips as his hard-on presses against my center. “Please.”
He carries me down the hall to my bedroom and gently presses me into the bed, his body leaning over mine. He steps back to undress himself, and I stare unashamed, soaking in his body and the look of desire he keeps trained on me. I pull myself from my hazy state and slide off my thong, letting the material drop to the floor. My bra comes next, and when we’re both fully undressed, it takes a few beats for either of us to move; we’re too busy drinking each other in.
Within a blink, he’s on me, and my legs widen to let him in. He rests between them, and I glance down to see he’s already put a condom on.
When did that happen? I think just before his lips find mine again and his fingers press against my slit, running down the length of it.
He grunts against my mouth, applying gentle pressure.
“God, yes,”
I moan as he lines his thickness against my core, pressing in slowly until he’s buried to the hilt.
My body quakes as he settles in, and when he slowly starts to move in and out at a dangerously too-good pace, all I can do is move with him, matching him thrust for thrust as I shut off my mind and lose myself in his touch.
No sounds are heard aside from our mingled moans and soft bodies slapping together. His fingers trail down my body and stop at my clit, gently applying pressure, and I lose it, completely shattering around him as my orgasm hits.
My back arches off the bed and my legs spread wider, needing to feel more of his body against mine. He speeds up a little, chasing his own release. With a quiet groan, his body collapses onto mine, and I welcome the feel of it crushing mine. My hands rest on either side of his face, and I press slow, soft kisses against his jawline.
“Thank you,” I whisper against his skin.
“For what?” he breathes back.
“For everything you’ve given me.”
Before he can respond, my lips lock with his, and I silently give him a piece of my heart, one reserved for someone who shouldn’t be him. It’s a promise, an apology, and a piece of gratitude mixed into one.
I’m falling, and it’s dangerous and wrong, but I’m too deep in it to care.
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