Awkward.

by Kate, Lily

But she’s too lost in the touch, begging for more with every movement, and I strive for patience. I move slowly, gentle, enjoying the intimate warmth of her.

  I can feel her getting close, tensing against me, and I want nothing more than to taste her. The scent of Allie Jenkins is everything I imagined, and more. Holding her is no longer enough, and I adjust slightly, an arm coming around her back as I guide her onto the couch.

  She’s malleable in my arms, almost liquid as I lay her down, spreading her beneath me. Her hair dances in a circle from her face, like a sunflower with brilliant blonde leaves extending in every direction.

  I brush one stray strand from her face before I inch toward her, slowing us down, pressing individual kisses to her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, and eventually those lips I’ve come to love.

  She pulls me close until I’m heavy on top of her, and I worry it’s too much. But she doesn’t let up.

  When that’s still not enough, I reach under Allie’s still-damp dress, my fingers dragging over her gorgeous legs. Her skin is soft, so soft I linger longer than I intend, cupping her thigh until my fingers inch so high I can nearly touch her belly.

  My thumb plays over her tender zone, the one that makes her shiver, and I watch as she trembles under my touch. I’m a greedy bastard, and I do it again, and again, until she shudders against me, her fingers gripping my shoulders as her torso arches, her hips driving into me.

  “Stop...” Allie grits out as goose bumps freckle her skin, “teasing.”

  “Fine.” I hook one finger around the lip of her lace panties and yank them down. I don’t mean to snap them, but apparently in my heightened state of lust, I break the gentle fabric and her panties come off in one piece in my hands.

  “Guess I don’t need those back,” Allie murmurs with a grin as I stare at the lace, confused. “Drop them, Darcy.”

  I drop the panties like a hot potato and focus instead on Allie’s body, which she’s intent on wiggling even closer to me. This time when I kiss her, it’s on her stomach. She shivers as my fingers run down her thighs. She’s warm, soft in my hands, and I’m so thoroughly wild for her I’ll never recover from tonight.

  As I lean down to kiss her, to finally taste the woman of my every dream, I pause. Inhale. I press my hand to Allie’s stomach, firm, and she rests her hand over mine, grasping onto it for dear life.

  She bucks upward for me, her fingers clawing at the couch as I hover just out of reach, driving her into a frenzy of anticipation.

  And then...my phone rings.

  “Don’t you dare,” Allie says. “Touch me, Jack.”

  Under any other circumstance, I’d break the damn thing and throw it out the window. I’m so close. I’m so near the woman I desire most that I debate throwing the phone out the window anyway.

  Except, it’s my super-secret work number. The emergency one that means I need to drop whatever it is I’m doing and get my ass to the hospital. Even so, I let it ring. I debate calling them back in five minutes, but that’d be unfair to Allie.

  I have no good solution to this. I can either ignore work and get my ass handed to me, or I can stop things where they are. I won’t continue with Allie if it means I’m unable to take my time; I’ve spent too long waiting to have her to rush this.

  “Allie—”

  “Shit,” she pleads. “That’s your super-secret work number, isn’t it?” She groans, runs a hand through her wild mane. “You have to answer it.”

  “But—”

  “It’s the hospital.” Allie moves to sit, easing out from under me as the passion fades into reality. “You need to go.”

  I shake my head as my gaze lands on Allie. I’m hungrier for her than ever, and it’s painful to see the lust fading from her eyes.

  “Don’t worry,” she says, forcing a grin. “I understand. And Jack?”

  I let out a groan that rumbles through my entire body as I click Answer on my phone. “Yes?”

  She waits until I listen and respond, then hang up. “You’re not bad at sex,” she says, sounding almost pissed. “How can you think that?”

  “We didn’t have sex.”

  “Basically,” she says, her face turning several shades of pink. “I mean, what’s left? You sort of just stick it in and... voila.”

  “What?!”

  “Don’t you have to go?” she says, now flustered. “Get to work.”

  “Allie, I wouldn’t go if—”

  “I know, I’m not upset. It’s your career, your life, and you don’t have to explain.” Allie pauses, takes a deep breath. “I don’t even know what I’m saying. I’m flustered.”

  “Stay here, will you? Don’t leave. This isn’t finished.”

  “I don’t know, Jack, I think maybe it’s best if we leave things finished. They never...work out between us. Maybe it’s a sign.”

  “No!” I stand, however, and adjust my pants. “This isn’t a sign. This is just a call from work. No signs, nothing.”

  “I know; I’m not upset. I wanted this as much as you did, but—”

  “But...what?” I reach for her panties in an effort to return them, but I realize once again that I’ve ripped them to shreds.

  Allie eyes them, wrinkles her nose, and nods toward the garbage.

  I toss them on my way to grab my keys. “This is not over,” I tell her, storming toward the front door. “And when I come back, I want to hear you explain. Don’t you dare think about leaving.”

  “Okay.”

  “And Allie...” I pause, waiting as she crosses the room. When she joins me at the door, I press her against the frame, lining my body against hers to let her know my desire is still going strong. When she sucks in a sharp breath, I know she’s listening. “I disagree.”

  “With what?”

  “That’s not how sex works. And if you think so, you’re doing it wrong.”

  Her eyes are hooded, watching me carefully. I’m stuck under her gaze, waiting for a reaction, for more. Then, my phone buzzes a second time, and I have no choice but to step back, ease through the doorway, and lock the door behind me.

  “I love my job,” I mutter to myself. “I love my work, I love my work, I love my work.”

  Chapter 18

  ALLIE

  I cower under the covers. I’m laying spread eagle in Jack Darcy’s bed, the rush of embarrassment creeping over my neck. One moment, I’m sighing from the intense pleasure of the night, and the next, I’m cringing with each passing memory.

  I should’ve stayed on the couch after Jack left, but I didn’t. I’m not quite sure why, but here I am, tucked under his covers, daydreaming about what it’d be like if he slid between the sheets and joined me when he returned.

  The wine has long since worn off, so I have no shields left between me and the impending arrival of Jack Darcy. When I finally peek my head out from underneath the covers, I see the clock blinking 3:34 in the morning.

  Jack left two hours ago, and I’ve been awake ever since. I’m too shaky to sleep. The most I’ve done is hold my eyes closed for a few seconds. Any longer than that, and memories of Jack come swirling behind my eyelids and threaten to make me burn up from the inside out.

  I’m running so warm, however, I’m worried about a fever. I get up to open the window, and a cool breeze filters over my skin before I climb back in bed. The breeze isn’t enough, but at least it’s something.

  I’ve debated handling this a lot of ways. I thought about heading home. Aimee would surely pick me up if I needed company. I even debated sending Caroline a message to see if she’s at the hospital...and could she please snoop on Jack Darcy for me?

  I wonder if Jack is feeling the same confusion that I am. Of course not, I think—the man can control his emotions in a way that puts robots to shame. Yet when I try to control my emotions, it’s as effective as holding back a sneeze. Even if I’m successful in the short term, the sneeze is coming out sooner or later. And the longer I hold it in, the worse the eventual explosion.

  To deal wit
h some of the emotional pressure, I dial my best friend and sometimes-uncertified-therapist, Aimee. She’s probably out at a gig, as evidenced by the loud music pummeling through the phone the second she picks up.

  “Hey, Allie! What’s going on?” The beat thumps through the line. “One sec. Let me sneak into the alley.”

  “Don’t pretty girls get killed in alleys at this hour of the night?”

  She laughs. “The entrance is in the alley. We’ve got Mark and Claude on the door; I’m fine.” Her voice eases quieter along with the background noise. “But what about you? Aren’t you usually sleeping this time of night?”

  “I’m not a complete recluse. Sometimes I have Saturday night plans.” I can practically feel her eyebrow raising on the other side of the phone.

  “You don’t fool me; you hate staying up past your bedtime. What is it, three in the morning?”

  “Almost four,” I say proudly. “Anyway, how’s your gig?”

  “No changing the subject. We have to go back on stage in a bit, so, although I don’t want to rush you, I’m rushing you. What happened?”

  “I made out with Jack Darcy.” I wince, surprised at how easily that popped out. “We kissed and it was freaking amazing, and now I’m alone in his bed and confused and—”

  “And you thought he loved you like a sister.”

  “He does! He did—I don’t know.”

  Aimee squeals. “This has been years in the making! Or should I say making out? What else happened? Why did things stop there?”

  “Stop there?! That’s already too far.”

  “You’re not a virgin. You’re a grown woman. So is Jack. Er, he’s a grown man, I guess.”

  “Definitely a man.”

  “So? I’m surprised you were both able to stop. The tension between the two of you is insane.”

  “He got a call from work,” I admit. “But it’s a good thing, really. I meant to stop at making out, anyway. I don’t know if I’d have been able to hold back if he hadn’t had to leave.”

  “Admit it. This was the best night of your life.”

  “I don’t know, there was a lot of wine, and we were on this double date, and—”

  “Hold the phone. You went on a double date with Jack Darcy, and you didn’t tell me?”

  “Nope.” Another flinch. “I wasn’t on the date with Jack.”

  “Scandalous! What was wrong with your date?”

  “For starters, we found him making out with Jack’s date. Delilah.”

  “So, he’s an idiot.”

  “We didn’t mesh,” I say. “I can hardly blame him. Delilah’s about as right for Jack as putting ice cream on a hamburger. Then after dinner, Jack and I walked along the beach and he rescued my shoes from the waves—”

  “The Louboutins?”

  “Yes!”

  “Marry him now.”

  I force a laugh. “Yeah, anyway. Things got a little hot and steamy in the water, and then I thought that was just a moment. One that got away from us.”

  “But then it happened again.”

  “On his couch.”

  “Were you wearing clothes when the hospital called?”

  “More or less.”

  “Allie! Hold on, let me do the math.” She’s quiet as she calculates. “The wine had to be out of your system by the time you got home, so if you’re trying to blame this on the alcohol, I’m not buying it, sister. You wanted Jack. End of story. Better if you stop fighting the facts.”

  “Maybe,” I add miserably. “But I felt drunk.”

  “Drunk on Darcy,” she murmurs. “I’m glad you had a good time! I figured it’d be great when this finally happened; I mean, the chemistry is there, and the tension has been building up for years.”

  “What do you mean—you figured it would be?”

  “Well, eventually it would happen. You both want one another, so all you needed were the right circumstances. Don’t argue with me on this one—my point has already been proven.”

  “Now I’m here, hiding under the covers in his bed. Was that part of the inevitable, too?”

  “What’s your plan?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I called you.”

  “Get naked and throw a sheet over you. Leave a note and tell him to join you.”

  “Aimee! I’m serious. What should—”

  “I’m serious, too,” she says. “Look, I have to get going. They’re calling us back on stage.”

  “Tell me what to do!”

  “You’re an adult! If you called to ask my permission to sleep with Jack, well, you don’t need it. I think you two are perfect together, and this has been far too long in the making. Should I say the love-making?”

  “What if it ruins things between us?”

  “Then don’t take that risk. Put on your clothes and sleep on the couch. Or head home, whatever. Sleep, drive home in a few hours—whatever you want.”

  “You’re not being helpful.”

  “You got yourself into this. I’m just giving you my opinions.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “All of your lessons with Jack. I guess your Romance Academy is working out too well. You’ve got him falling for you.”

  “He’s not falling for me!”

  “Then what would you call this?”

  “I don’t know. Chemistry, maybe. We know each other really well, and I suppose we like one another, or we wouldn’t still be friends after this long.”

  “Bingo. Plus, you’ve been teaching him all about romance, so maybe some of it is bleeding over.”

  “That’s the problem, Aimee. I’m teaching him. If he’s falling for me, it’s all fake. This is about him finding a girlfriend. One who’s not me.”

  “Why not you? You’re single and pretty and smart and all of that great stuff. I think Jack would be blind if he hadn’t taken a look at you.”

  “Why’d he ask me for help to find a date with someone else then?”

  “Look, I’ve really gotta get going. You already know what you want to do,” she says, the sounds of a club growing louder in the background. “So, think about it for a second longer and go with your gut. You have reasons for doing both, and I don’t think either option is stupid.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. That, and I won’t be able to change your mind. You want to try things with Jack? Make it obvious. You want to keep things PG13? Make it obvious. The only thing I’d recommend is making things clear to Jack. When he walks in that door after work, he should know exactly where you want him.”

  “If music doesn’t work out, you’d make a good psychologist.”

  “I know. Goodnight, sweetie. Have fun...or don’t.”

  We hang up, and I finally ease out from under the covers. It’s about time I decide something since I’ve been here alone for several hours. I sit up in bed and stare at the doorway, thinking about everything Aimee said. The pros and cons that would mean testing the waters with Jack.

  If we slept together, what would that mean? For us? Would we have this magical roll in the sack and then just move on? I’d definitely have to cancel Romance Academy lessons because I’m fairly certain teachers sleeping with their students is against the rules.

  What about Sunday night dinners? We’d have to cancel those, too, if—or rather, when—Jack found a new girlfriend. Surely his new partner wouldn’t like Jack spending time with a woman he’d slept with, friend or not.

  It’s probably safer to just slip into Jack’s oversized sweatshirt and head home. It would save us both a lot of heartache down the road when things inevitably didn’t work out.

  There’s just one last thought niggling to get out. It’s hiding in the dusty attic of my brain somewhere, struggling to escape. But no amount of staring at the doorway and wondering which decision is the right one will help.

  Instead, I decide to busy my fingers. I pull Jack’s laptop onto the bed, open it, and sign in. I have my own username and password on his computer.

  Thi
s time, however, I don’t want my search history saved under his login. Navigating to my bookmarks, I pull up my newly created blog admin page. I fiddle around with the settings for a while, and then I click into the article’s bar to write my headline.

  My fingers tap against the keyboard as I debate how to start this mess. Where to start. My fingers don’t feel like they work, and my brain can’t comprehend who would ever read a blog by me, or why.

  Eventually, those thoughts melt away, and with a flurry of determination, I begin to type, deciding that nobody will ever see this. My most urgent task is to figure out whether or not sleeping with Jack Darcy is a good idea.

  A pro and con list should help with that. So, I title my page Sex and get to work.

  It’s not the greatest title, but it’s self-explanatory, and I can’t think of anything better. The next step is a pros and cons list outlining why I should either get naked for Doctor Daring, as I call him, or put on a parka and a chastity belt.

  It takes me a solid half an hour to get ten items in each column. That’s when I realize my problem: I have exactly ten items in each column.

  Pros:

  He’s smart (he’s a doctor, duh)

  Attractive (based on factual information, i.e. tall, dark, and stud-muffinly)

  Friends (since forever)

  Smells good (really, really good)

  He obviously knows what to do with his hands (ex: make out on the couch)

  Best kisser to ever exist (ex: beach)

  Knows me better than anyone else (good and...embarrassing)

  Enjoys Chinese food (and doesn’t mind when I eat most of it)

  Lets me sleep in his bed

  Has fantastic motorcycle hair

  Cons:

  He’s so smart it can be annoying

  He smells so good it can be annoying

  He’s so attractive it’s annoying

  He looks so good after riding his motorcycle it’s annoying

  He never lets me sleep on the couch and always moves me to his bed

  He knows every one of my secrets

  If he keeps kissing me, I might go crazy with lust

  He eats half the Chinese food

  He is my pupil (sort of)

  He’s trying to date someone else