Wrong Number, Right Guy

by Tara Wylde

  I need to distract him and I have just the trick.

  I twist and slowly crawl up his chest, making sure to let my breasts rub against him each inch of the way until my mouth is less than an inch from his. His eyes are bright in the darkness.

  “I’m all sticky and covered in Chinese food. So,” I close the distance between our lips and kiss him hard until we’re both panting. A familiar pressure has started to build in my pussy and Jason’s cock is starting to swell against my bare thigh.

  “How about we head into the shower on this floor and check another room off your list?”

  17

  Ella

  For the second time since reconnecting with Jason, I wake up and find that he’s not in bed with me.

  Disappointing. As I fell asleep last night, I was looking forward to using my mouth to wake him up. I really should tell him about my messed-up plans. That’ll teach him to leave me all alone in this big, lonely bed.

  Surely whatever he’s doing right now can’t compare to what we could be doing together…

  I stretch and discover several stiff muscles, each one a reminder of the various things Jason and I did last night. Crimson heat floods my face and I bury it in the pillow. I never would have guessed I was even capable of doing such things, much less enjoying them. Seven years ago I was a virgin. And then? Nothing. Nothing for year after year. It’s no surprise I’m all worn out. I’ve been like a kid in a candy shop.

  I won’t be disappointed if Jason wants to try out a few of those moves again, just to make sure we did them right.

  Chuckling softly to myself, I throw the covers back and ease out of the bed. I need to find him, but before I do that, maybe a quick pit stop to brush my teeth.

  I stop at Jason’s closet and open the doors. I rummage through it, pushing aside one shirt after another, mostly T-shirts, but with a few sweaters and button-downs mixed in, until I find a huge orange and white sweatshirt bearing the University of Tennessee logo, Jason’s alma mater, on the front.

  I press my nose to the soft fabric, inhaling its scent. Beneath the smell of detergent and fabric softener, I detect a trace of Jason’s unique musk.

  Twenty minutes later, teeth brushed, freshly showered, and wearing nothing but the over-sized, age-worn sweatshirt, I follow the smell of frying bacon to the kitchen.

  I find Jason standing in front of the stove, a spatula in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other while he keeps an eye on the strips of bacon sizzling on the built-in griddle.

  I prop my shoulder against the door jamb and allow myself a moment to drink in his appearance. The sweatpants he’s wearing low on his hips are worn, even threadbare in some places, but I don’t care since they’re doing an excellent job of showcasing his ass.

  Jason's long, perfectly straight, bare toes tap against the floor, keeping time to whatever song he has blaring through his Bluetooth headphones. The towel draped over his left shoulder gently sways to the same rhythm, drawing my attention to the hard, corded muscles that make up his back and shoulders.

  Nerves tingle in my palms as I eye those muscles and remember how they felt beneath my hands as I clutched him while he came inside of me. I’m already itching for a repeat performance.

  Riding instinct, I tiptoe across the span of space separating us, ignoring how cold the linoleum is against my bare skin. I slide my arms around Jason’s waist and press my cheek to his spine. “Good morning,” I coo before lightly biting the back of his shoulder.

  Startled, he starts to lurch forward, steadies himself, and cranes his head around to look at me. “Good morning to you too.” Happiness resonates in his voice.

  I touch the tip of my tongue to his skin, soothing the place I bit. He shudders and lets out a low moan. Pleasure explodes in my chest, warming me. I love how much my smallest touch turns him on.

  He directs his attention back to the stove. “If you’d waited just a little longer, I would have served you breakfast in bed.”

  Placing his coffee cup on the counter, he picks up a plate that has a paper towel spread out over it. I rest my cheek on the warm spot between his shoulder blades while he transfers the crispy bacon from the griddle to the plate.

  “I got lonely,” I murmur against his skin.

  “Mmm hmm,” Jason hums. “Coffee?”

  “No thank you.” I use the pad of my thumb to trace his waistband. His abdominal muscles jerk and contract. “You didn’t have to make me breakfast.” I slip my thumb beneath the elastic, taking my exploration a little lower, into even more interesting territory.

  Jason gasps and quickly sets the plate of fragrant bacon down so he can catch hold of my wrist.

  “I wanted to,” he says. “If you care to think back to our first morning together, I invited you out for omelets, but you ran off rather than taking me up on my offer.”

  If I had stuck around then, my life, both of our lives, would have turned out very differently.

  I don’t want to think about the what might have beens or the what could have happeneds. I’ve been down that road too many times to count. It doesn’t accomplish anything.

  “I’m here now,” I murmur in my best sultry voice.

  Jason turns and wraps his arms around me, his hands resting on the curve of my ass. “Yes, you are.” He dips his head and kisses the tip of my nose, making me giggle.

  I channel my best inner Marilyn Monroe and caress his leg with my bare foot, hoping it feels as sexy to him as it does to me. “The question,” I purr, “is now that you have me, what are you going to do with me?”

  “That,” Jason ducks his head and catches my mouth with his in a kiss that leaves me breathless, “sounds like a dare.”

  I slowly exhale while an interested grin spreads across my face. “C’mon, big guy,” I tease, my tone equal parts flirtatious and challenging, “show me what you got.”

  18

  Ella

  Squealing, I launch my naked ass off the counter and hide behind Jason while I tug the sweatshirt back down around my thighs. I don’t know why I bother; it’s not like I have much modesty left at this point.

  Jason isn’t helping matters by standing there laughing his fool head off. “Ella, this is Daryl Foster, my workout buddy and best friend.” He turns his head to look at me over his shoulder. “Daryl and I were roommates at U of T.”

  “Nice to meet you, Daryl.” My words are addressed to Jason’s back, since I’m too mortified to even think about looking at Jason's friend. I don’t know how much he saw when he walked into the kitchen and I don’t care. Even a millisecond was too much.

  “Coffee, Daryl?” Jason asks.

  “Sounds good.”

  My jaw drops as Jason, the rat fink bastard, moves to the coffee pot next to the stove, leaving me all by my lonesome, standing beside the kitchen counter where he and I… Heat coats my face. I’m surprised my hair doesn’t burst into flames.

  Daryl ducks his head shyly at me. “I’m very sorry, ma’am.” His voice still carries a hint of the South where I’m guessing he grew up. “I have a key to Jason’s place and stop by whenever I want to use his gym, usually in the mornings ‘cause that’s when he likes to spar. I didn’t think to knock because, well, he’s never had a lady here before. Forgive me?”

  I might not ever get over my embarrassment but… “Yeah, you’re forgiven. It’s not like you were doing anything you haven’t done about a million times.”

  I angle a glare at Jason’s spine as he fills a cup with dark coffee. They had a regular meeting in the morning. Why didn’t he think of that before things got out of hand? He’ll pay, I decide, already dreaming up a few creative things I can do that will have him begging for mercy.

  Jason passes a mug full of tea to me and I smile shyly at him. I sip the hot drink and slide a sly look at Daryl. He’s a good-looking guy with smooth skin, a hairless scalp, gorgeous eyes, and high cheekbones. He flashes another smile at me and I can’t help smiling back. If his personality is half as contagious as his sm
ile, he must be very popular.

  Daryl accepts the cup of coffee and moves towards the sink and props a hip against it before focusing his attention back on me. “So, how long have you and Jason been…friends?”

  Jason and I glance at one another and my brow furrows. It’s a simple, generic question that’s always used to break the ice. Most of the time it generates a simple, straightforward response, but in Jason’s and my case nothing is simple.

  “We’ve been friends for…” I flounder for a length of time to put on our relationship. “It’s complicated,” I finally say, quickly rushing to add, “but there was an instant connection.”

  Jason snorts and Daryl’s grin widens. “I’ll say,” he murmurs, the humor in his tone softening the words.

  There’s something, I can’t put my finger on what, about Daryl that feels very familiar. Almost like he’s someone I recently passed in the street.

  I sip my coffee and pull up a mental list of my activities during the last few weeks. It’s not difficult; all I do is work and stay in the apartment. I don’t have the money to do anything else. Then, I slowly sift through the faces and names of the people I encounter. I don’t come up with anything.

  So why does he seem so familiar?

  I take another sip and reexamine Daryl’s face. He shifts his weight from one leg to another, the movement causing light to glint off of something near his hip. My gaze slides lower, settling on a lethal looking gun.

  Unease swirls in my gut. I’m not knowledgeable enough about guns to be able to identify what kind or type it is, but I’ve never been comfortable around people who carry them, and I’ve become even less comfortable with firearms since Abe and his father became a part of my life. Ever since borrowing the money that I used to save Kelsey’s life, I’ve been hyper aware of how deadly people who carry guns really are. It’s scary.

  When my gaze slides over a few inches and sees the other thing attached to his belt, my worry about the gun vanishes like puff of smoke in a strong wind.

  Resting there is a flat gold disc. Unlike the gun, I know exactly what it is.

  An FBI badge.

  The bottom drops out of my stomach and my heart kicks into overdrive, beating so fast my vision blurs even as the blood drains from my face. Beads of sweat bubble up on my upper lip and dribble down my spine. I grab onto the edge of the counter top.

  “Ella?” Jason’s voice sounds like he’s standing a long way away and talking into a cardboard tube. His hand settles on my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  Fighting to take smooth, even breaths while mentally commanding my heart to slow down, I nod. My mind spins, searching for thoughts on the best way to handle the situation.

  “Yeah.” I push myself away from the counter and say a silent prayer of thanks when my knees stay locked in place. “Just a little light headed is all.” I don’t dare lie with a federal agent standing within earshot. “Do you mind if I go back to the bedroom for a little while?”

  Jason rubs my back. “Go lay down.”

  I manage to shoot him a small smile before I start shuffling away. Halfway across the room, a lightning bolt of realization strikes me and I stumble to a halt.

  I turn and find both Jason and Daryl watching me. Each wears the same concerned expression on their face. “Jason. Where are my clothes?” I make a sweeping gesture with my hands, indicating his worn U of T sweatshirt. “I can’t keep wearing this all day.”

  Despite his obvious concern for me, Jason flashes a grin. “I don’t have a problem with it. Though I prefer you in even less.”

  We both ignore Daryl’s snort.

  “Jason, I’d really like to know where my clothes are.”

  “Second door on the right. They’re still in the dryer.” Last night he had transferred them from the washing machine to the dryer when he’d fetched my cell phone so I could call Adele and let her know that I was safe but wouldn’t be coming home.

  Once in the laundry room, I strip off the U of T sweatshirt, replacing it with my own clothes, not caring that the cheap blouse is wrinkled. I have other things to worry about.

  I can’t believe that Jason’s best friend isn’t just a cop, but a federal agent. I’m about ninety percent positive that the FBI is the organization responsible for handling crimes connected to the mafia.

  Crimes exactly like the one I’d willingly committed two years after Kelsey’s birth. The one that has weighed heavily on my shoulders ever since and fueled my determination to stay on top of my payments without having to resort to asking Abe or his father to come up with ways for me to work off the loan.

  Cold sweat trickles down the length of my spine as I shimmy into my jeans. My fingers are cold and stiff, making it difficult to force the button through the buttonhole.

  If I wasn’t terrified, I’d probably laugh. How ironic is it, that after years of keeping my head down and doing everything in my power to avoid any and all connection to any member of law enforcement, I end up sleeping with a guy whose best friend is a fed?

  And here I was, worried about Abe finding out who Jason is and how much his net worth happens to be, and figuring out a way to use the information to squeeze money out of him. Turns out that’s the least of my concerns. Abe isn’t the most stable of guys. Once he learns about Daryl’s connection to Jason and now me, he’s likely to lose his shit completely and decide that the best way to handle the situation is to kill all of us.

  As far as I can tell, my best chance for making sure that doesn’t happen is putting as much distance between myself and the two men in the kitchen as possible.

  I jerk my thin sky-blue sweater over my head and shove my arms into my jacket, which Jason was also sweet enough to launder, before finding my cheap sneakers and cramming my feet into them. I angle the strap of my laptop bag so it’s crossways across my body.

  Forty-five seconds later I find a door that opens into Jason’s side yard and let myself out it. I beeline for the street, careful to make sure I angle my trajectory away from the kitchen windows.

  I reach the sidewalk and automatically swing in the direction that won’t bring me past Jason’s house, and suddenly realize that I was so lost in my thoughts while Jason drove here yesterday, I didn’t pay any attention to where we were going. I know I’m still in Chicago and I know I’m on Lake Michigan’s shoreline, but past that, I haven’t a clue as to where I am or how I’m going to get home.

  Chewing on my lip, I consider my surroundings and how little money I have. I know I’m too far away from my apartment to even consider hiring a cab to take me the entire way, but perhaps I can have one take me just a few miles, to somewhere more familiar.

  I glance at the huge brick house I’m walking past with its perfectly landscaped front yard and elegant entrance. I bet I’d have to work five years and not spend a single penny of my income just to cover a year’s worth of property taxes on a place like that. Which means that the odds of me finding a cab are slim to none. This isn’t exactly the kind of neighborhood they typically patrol when looking for fares. I suppose I could call, but where would I tell them to pick me up?

  The synapses in my brain fire and I dig into the front pocket of my laptop bag to pull out my phone. It’s four years old and lacks many of the bells and whistles the newer models have, but one app it does have is GPS, which will tell me exactly where I am.

  Just as I open up the app, a familiar three-sided glass-encased structure catches my eye. A bus stop, not more than two hundred yards ahead of me. And about four hundred yards past that, a giant bus slows.

  I break into a run and return my phone to my bag, shoving my hand deeper into the narrow depths and groping for the pile of bus tokens I always keep on hand.

  Finally, for the first time today, something is going my way.

  19

  Ella

  It takes almost three hours and five different buses and nearly all my bus tokens to finally return to my neighborhood. It turns out that Jason lives about as far from me as he can get and
still be in the same city.

  As soon as the bus pulls up to my apartment I realize spending so much time with Jason, surrounded by all the beauty that money can buy, was a big mistake.

  Now, more than ever, I know exactly what I’m missing.

  The large brick apartment building has always looked drab and outdated, but compared to the steel and glass of Jason’s place, it’s downright depressing. I shudder to think about how shabby, small, and outdated my apartment is going to feel, whereas before yesterday morning it had always felt like a small, cozy corner of my own personal world.

  Usually, when I’m getting home I at least have the idea of seeing Kelsey as soon as I walk into the apartment to brighten my arrival, but not now. She’s already left for school and it will be hours and hours before she gets home and I can hug her. God, I miss her.

  At least I’ll have time to get some work on that first web development project done and as soon as that’s complete, I’ll have just enough to cover this month’s payment to Abe and his father. And after that I’ll have three and a half glorious weeks before Abe’s next visit.

  It always amazes me how liberated I feel after each payment. I mean, it’s not like I ever get ahead or anything. I’m barely keeping up with the interest on the loan, forget paying off the principle.

  I blow out a sigh and clutch the strap of my laptop case. I step off the bus and try not to think too hard about the future, or the recent past either, for that matter. What’s the point? I have to focus on the here and now and doing whatever it takes to keep my daughter happy, healthy, and safe and the only way I can do that is dealing with the immediate problems and issues that crop up.

  Yesterday, last night, and the start of this morning were a fairytale, a shining sample of what my life might have been like if things had been just a little bit different, but now it’s back to reality.