by Kim Karr
“Ouch,” I joke and yank my pants up. Once I button them and fasten my belt, I reach around to the bag on the counter and hand it to her. “I got you one more thing.”
Suspicion looms in her eyes as she takes it. Slowly she opens the bag and pulls the rectangular box of lubricant out. She shakes her head at me.
“What?” I say, “I thought we could get started on what we talked about the other night.”
“How do you know I’ll be in the mood for sex tonight?”
I pull her close and place my hands on her ass. “Because we only have two nights left before our babysitting gig is over and I know you’ll want to make the most of it.”
Tess pushes away from me and tosses the lube on the counter. “Is sex the only thing you ever think about?”
She doesn’t look at me. She gives me her profile, staring into the kitchen.
When she finally meets my gaze, her eyes are blazing with some unnamed emotion. I stare at her, wondering where the hell this is coming from and answer honestly, “It’s not the only thing, but it’s right up there with business and basketball.”
The smell of her perfume wraps around me as she brushes past me. “I have to go and check on the contractors at the café.”
“Tess, wait,” I call out. “What’s wrong?”
Over her shoulder she says, “Sometimes you really are a jerk.”
Infuriated, I take a tentative step to go after her, but decide against it. Instead, I stand at the counter, stunned that she just walked out on me.
What the hell?
Nick
I STRIDE INTO the building and ride the elevator up to my floor, still feeling pissed as hell about what happened with Tess.
The office is quiet. Everyone must be at lunch or out scouting. Frustrated, I toss my coat on the rack. Striding across the room, I slam my briefcase onto my desk and then flop down into my chair.
Before I can stop myself, I pull my phone out of my pocket and consider calling her. I bring up her number, but can’t bring myself to hit the call button. I switch to text and hover my fingers over the keypad. Words escape me. Nice ones anyway.
Dropping it to my desk, I look at the stack of notes, list of calls that need returning, and documents that should be signed. Leaving everything untouched, I lean back in my chair replaying the events of the past hour in my head.
What the hell did I say?
Or not say?
The knock on the door forces me to stop thinking about it. I glance up to see Hayden with a worried look on his face.
“What’s up?” I ask.
He shoves his hand through his hair. “We need to talk.”
“Sure, come in and sit down.”
The chair is opposite my desk, and Hayden takes a seat.
“What’s going on?”
He sighs. “I hate to bring this up, but Ash and I think you should know what’s going on.”
I steeple my hands together. “That statement infers there is something going on that I don’t know about.”
Clearing his throat, Hayden says, “Nick, what I mean is Ash and I wanted to handle this, but it’s gotten too big.”
Growing impatient, I ask, “What exactly is this?”
“This is Bigelow,” Hayden rushes.
I furrow my brow. “Bigelow?”
“Chill man and let me explain, will you?”
I wave a hand. “Yeah, sorry, go on.”
As if settling in for a long-winded story, Hayden crosses his leg over his knee. “Over the past week Bigelow has undercut the last four clients I asked Natasha to show properties to, and then he underbid a property Ash just about had in the bag. He’s about to do the same right now. Ash is out today trying to salvage the bid on that old publishing house near Harold Washington Library Center that the county owns. But it seems Bigelow has someone at county on his payroll, and it looks like he’s going to win the auction.”
I lean forward. “Did Bigelow underbid Ash?”
“Yeah, but only by like five grand.”
I take in a long breath, processing this information. “So Bigelow somehow found out what our bid was,” I surmise.
He nods.
“You think Bigelow is messing with us or just doing business the way he does business? It’s inevitable that we’re going to start overlapping soon.”
“Fuck yeah he’s messing with us.”
“What makes you say that?”
“The only thing that makes sense is he must have found out you rented Tess that property for under market value and now he’s going to show us who’s boss.”
I level my stare. “Then we don’t let him.”
As if unsure, Hayden rubs his hands down his pants. “And how do we do that?”
“Underbid, undercut, and outsmart every step of the way.”
“You sure you want to do that? It’s going to cost you.”
“Do you have any other ideas?”
His frown deepens. “No, but going to war with the likes of Bigelow could get messy. Let me talk to Ash, and get back with you tomorrow. Do me a favor though?”
I lean back in my chair. “Sure, what do you need?”
“Can you ask Tess if she used a realtor to look at Bigelow’s place or if she answered one of his ads directly?”
I twist my lip. “Yeah, I’ll try.”
“Try?”
“Try!” I hiss.
With amusement in his eyes, Hayden sits forward. “What did you do, Nick?”
I narrow my stare at him. “What makes you think I did something?”
Both of his brows pop. “Because I know you.”
“I’ll give you that,” I smirk, “But hell if I did, I have no fucking clue what.”
“What did you say that set her off? That’s always a good place to start.”
I shrug. “I don’t really recall.”
“Did you tell her you love her?”
My eyes widen. “What? Fuck no, we’re only friends.”
The smirk on his face is meant to aggravate me. “Right, and the Bulls are going to go all the way this season.”
Conceding, I admit, “We might be slightly more than friends. How the fuck do you know anyway?”
Hayden’s mouth quirks up even higher at one corner. “Come on dude, your voice goes up an octave or two when you talk about her.”
Incredulous, I respond with, “No, it doesn’t.”
“Yeah, it does, now tell me what happened?”
Ignoring the grade school boy comment, I tell Hayden a stripped down version of the story, leaving out the blowjob part. I didn’t think Tess would appreciate that.
With a shake of his head, he says, “Listen, man, I’ve been with Allie for five years, and I still fuck up all the time. But I’ve learned something you might want to know—sometimes you just have to say you’re sorry even if you have no idea why.”
I lean back in my chair. “She called me a jerk—again, and I have to be the one to apologize.”
“You are a jerk,” he laughs.
I flip him my middle finger.
“No seriously, she’s probably feeling uncertain about what’s going to happen when the two of you aren’t caring for Max anymore.”
All I can do is stare at him.
“If I were you, I’d start by discussing what’s next, and soon.”
Stunned by the fact that Hayden is giving me advice on how to deal with women, I seek council on the biggest question. “What if I don’t know what comes next?”
Hayden stands and looks right at me. “Then you better figure it out—fast.”
Great.
Just fucking great.
Tess
THINGS AREN’T EXACTLY going smoothly—in both my business and personal worlds. In fact, both are rather a mess right now.
Turns out the floorboards in the backroom of the café are rotted and need replacing. And the pipes are so old, they too need to be replaced. In addition, two coats of paint isn’t covering up the water stains on the walls
from an old leak, and the painter recommends some kind of treatment be used and then he’ll need to repaint again.
All of these things require capital, a lot of capital. Unfortunately, the small business loan I applied for hasn’t been approved yet. Turns out since I wasn’t on any of the accounts that I managed at Gaspard, my credit hasn’t been established. The loan officer isn’t sure how long it will take for all the paperwork to go through. If my funds run out before the loan is approved, I will have to put the renovations of the café on hold.
That will only cost me more money.
As if all that isn’t enough, whatever this thing is I have going on with Nick will probably be over by Thursday. And oddly enough, that makes me sad. I’m not ready for it to end.
It’s after ten o’clock by the time I pull into Fiona and Ethan’s driveway. The snow had stopped falling days ago, but the temperature hasn’t warmed up at all. Fiona and Ethan’s vehicles are in the garage, and I park next to Nick’s Range Rover on the pavement. I’m not quite ready to brave the cold between my car and the back door, but because I am exhausted, I open my car door and make a run for it.
My fingers are already getting numb as I fumble with the key. When I finally turn it, I realize the door isn’t locked.
Nick.
This means Nick is still awake.
Every night he has gotten up to check all the doors, even though I have reassured him they were locked. That’s how I know he’d never go to bed without locking up.
More than likely he’s waiting for me.
In the downstairs entryway, I remove my boots, hat and coat, and slowly climb the steps. As soon as I hit the top one, I see him across the room sitting on the stairs that lead upstairs. The room is dimly lit, only a single light on over the kitchen sink, but I can see him clearly. His elbows are on his knees, and his hands under his chin.
“Nick?” I say softly.
He nods, his lips pressed firmly together. “We need to talk.” he responds getting to his feet.
He’s going to break it off with me.
I nod back, knowing this was coming, but still not ready for it. I tried to prepare myself when he hadn’t called or texted me all day. And I couldn’t believe how much I missed hearing his husky voice or reading his funny emails, his lewd innuendoes, and his dirty text messages. I’ve grown used to them over the past two weeks, especially the dirty texts. Things like:
I’m thinking tonight while I eat your pussy, you can suck my cock.
And then there are things like this sent in the middle of the day:
I’m thinking about stopping by the café before picking Max up and finger fucking you, anyone around?
At first I’d roll my eyes while reading them. But then I would wonder if he was in a meeting or on his computer when the thoughts struck him.
Was he hard?
After a while though, I’d crave the messages. I would be at the café or with Max when I received them and pause for a moment to envision his suggestion. Shivers would usually roll over me at first glance. Once I’d calmed myself, I’d answer back with something like:
Sixty-nine—I don’t think so,” or “Finger-fucking is way overrated.
Despite my text responses, we always did as he suggested because come on, there is really nothing better than a sixty-nine, and finger-fucking is definitely not overrated.
Now all that will be over because I . . . I . . . I don’t know what. Wanted to be more than a sexual object to him? Wanted him to say something to me that wasn’t based on sex? Wanted him to—what?
That’s the question, isn’t it?
I clear my throat. “Should we sit on the couch?”
He nods.
We meet in the middle of the room and Nick places his hand on the small of my back. I swallow back my emotion. It started this way, and it will end this way. Seems rather fitting.
We both sit on the couch, not really close, but not that far apart. Nick immediately turns to me and allows his gaze to flicker over me for a few short seconds before speaking. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.
Surprised, I blink and again swallow back my emotion. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry,” I say softly. “I had no right to act like that. We’ve been fuck buddies, and that’s what fuck buddies do—talk about sex.”
Nick places his hand on my knee. “Tess,” he says in a shaky voice, “I’m not very good at the relationship thing. Sex with women is all I know.”
I give him a weak smile. “I know that, and I never should have expected more.”
He moves closer, his hand squeezing my knee tighter. “Yeah, you should have. We both know this,” he motions between the two of us, “isn’t only about sex. Don’t get me wrong, the sex is amazing, but there is more.”
Taken completely off guard by the direction this conversation is taking, I stare wide-eyed at him.
I was not expecting anything like this.
That’s when he takes my face between his hands as if wanting to reassure me that this is real. “You have to be patient with me, Tess. Saying things like, ‘I can’t wait to see you,’ is so much harder for me than saying, ‘I can’t wait to fuck you.’ To me, they both are meant to convey the same message, but I realize you don’t know that. Hell, I don’t even think I knew that was what I wanted to say until about ten hours ago when you left me standing alone in the kitchen.”
My stomach does a little flip, and I mentally warn myself to proceed with caution. Still, I feel a pull to him that I can’t resist, and I cover his hand with mine. “I like when you tell me you want to fuck me,” I joke before admitting, “but with Fiona and Ethan returning so soon, I think I just started to mentally prepare myself for the end.”
He moves our hands down to his lap and rubs the back of mine with his thumbs. “I’m not planning on this ending after they return. I don’t know what the future holds. I can’t make any promises, but I swear I want to see where this thing we have goes. I’m not going to tell you being with me is going to be easy. I’m a dick. An asshole. A jerk,” he grins. “And that isn’t going to change overnight. I’m unsteady. In unchartered water. And I’m going to fuck up. Can you handle that?”
I bite my lip. “I can handle just about anything you throw at me, Mr. Nick Carrington.”
His brow rises. “Even if I want you to call me sir?”
With the heavy conversation over, I decide to get back to us. “I’d be happy to call you sir.”
“You would?”
“Sure. As long as I get a turn at being the dominant once in a while.”
He shakes his head. “No way. There are no turns.”
“Sure there are. You aren’t a real dom, and I’ll never be a real submissive, so if you want to play the game, you have to take turns. Max should have taught you that by now.”
He moves even closer and hovers above my lips. “Never going to happen.”
“We’ll see,” I grin.
At that he tugs me to him. “Just kiss me.”
And I do.
Soft at first.
Then hard.
Our mouths crash and teeth clash.
Starved for what we weren’t sure we would ever have again, we practically devour each other.
When we are both breathless, Nick pulls back. “Now that that is settled, do you want to make up by sitting on my face?”
Before I can answer with an absolutely, he wraps his arms tightly around me and whispers in my ear, “Just kidding, baby. How about we get you to bed? And by bed I mean sleep. You look exhausted.”
Funny how sometimes the things you wish for work out and backfire at the same time.
Nick
EVEN AT THIRTY, I’m still experiencing firsts. How crazy is that? I’ve never just slept with a woman—ever.
And up in the spare room, with Tess looking at me the way she is, I start to reconsider the whole no-sex thing.
But no, I can do this.
I need to prove to her she means more to me than just being someone to bang,
or fuck, or screw.
Yeah, sex is on my mind.
Especially when I kiss her on the nose and slowly work her sweater upward.
“You don’t have to undress me,” she protests.
“I want to. Now stand still.”
She does.
I tug the sweater the rest of the way and spend a few seconds staring at her bra. Skimpy, provocative, and I think new. “Did you buy this for me?” I ask, running my finger under the strap.
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
I go to work on the fly of her jeans. “Always so sassy. That’s what makes you fucking perfect for me.”
“I don’t know if you’re the crazy one, or if I am,” she giggles.
I work her jeans down her smooth thighs and try not to stare at her sexy panties. “Those new too?” I ask, bobbing my chin in the direction of her pussy. My alternative was to lick it, but I’m trying to be good.
“Yes, they are.”
I step back and admire her. “You look incredible in them.”
“I appreciate the compliment.”
Feeling myself getting hard, I quickly pull back the sheets. “Get into bed.”
Her eyes wide, she slides in.
After turning the light off, I pull my shirt off and shove my pants down, and then slide in beside her.
“Nick,” she whispers.
“Yeah,” I whisper back.
“When I was seventeen, I did something that changed my life.”
I move her hair from her eyes and snuggle closer. “Sounds serious.”
“It was very serious at the time. I’d met this boy . . .”
Tess tells me the story about her boyfriend and his twin brother, and she tells me about how her parents caught them and thought something was wrong with her, so they sent her away.
“Baby,” I whisper, “you were seventeen and curious. Nothing was wrong or different about you, I promise. Sex is different for everyone. The couple that lives to the right might like to do it in the shower every morning, and the couple that lives to the left might only like to get it on once a month in the dark. But if you mixed them, who knows, the new couple might like to do it in public places, or on the kitchen table.”
She laughs. “You have such a way, but I get what you mean. And I know all that, now. Back then though, it really messed with me. And sometimes I go back to that dark place, and think, “There is something wrong with me. I am different.”