by Marie Harte
“Just hold on.” He unbuttoned the shirt and took off the white T-shirt beneath. Then he put the T-shirt between her legs and cleaned her. “I came hard.” He sounded satisfied. Such a guy. “A lot in you, baby.”
She hated when guys called her baby. So why didn’t she call Derrick on it? Because you like it, you whore. You just let Derrick do you in a house you’re showing in a few days while your partner sits outside in the car. And you asked him for it! Oh God. Where had her professionalism gone? Was she turning into her mother?
“I refuse to call you Uncle Derrick,” she said out loud, needing to hear herself.
“Um, okay. And I refuse to call you Aunt Sydney. We good now?”
She felt like a complete idiot. What a time to feel insecure. Not around this man. She needed every brain cell she had not to be caught up in his whirlwind.
She opened her mouth to say something else when he stroked her back, his touch comforting, not sexual. He finished with the T-shirt and helped her straighten up and turn around. With efficient movements, he set her clothing to rights, sans the underwear. “If you want these back, you have to come over tonight to get them,” he said as he tucked the pair in his pocket. The tender look in his eyes baffled her.
“No. You come to my place instead.”
He nodded and kissed her. The barely-there touch made her feel special, cared for and concerned. He pulled back but didn’t break eye contact as he buttoned up his shirt and bunched the T-shirt in his hand.
He followed her out in silence, waved goodbye to Lena, who goggled at them, and left in his SUV.
Sydney locked the house behind her then joined Lena in the car.
“Holy shit. I am more than jealous now.” Lena teased her the entire way back to the office, trying like hell to get Sydney to tell her anything.
But Sydney had no idea what to say. She didn’t mix business and pleasure. Yet she couldn’t get over the fact Derrick had been calling her the past week. He was coming over tonight. They’d just had sex and she’d come again. Sydney didn’t often orgasm right away with her partners. And after a few pleasurable encounters, she’d stop feeling that rush at all, signaling her time had come to an end with her boyfriend du jour. Apparently Sydney had control issues, as a therapist had once told her. One she hadn’t gone to again because she didn’t like half the things the woman had forced her to confront.
Mommy issues, control issues, man issues. Hell, after seeing the woman, Sydney had almost checked herself into a mental hospital. Then Hailey had talked her down, telling her some of her own problems, and Sydney had realized she was normal. Just as dysfunctional as every other woman trying to make do. Only her problems had less to do with body image and more to do with emotional baggage—like the fact she couldn’t stand the woman who’d given birth to her but felt an odd sense of duty to her nonetheless.
Comparisons between herself and her mother would make her crazy, so she ignored them. She and Lena returned to work. She managed another few hours before she called it quits. By then, Lena had already left for the day.
Her cell phone rang and she picked up the call after noting the caller. “Hey, Hailey. What’s shakin’?”
“We still on for tonight?”
Crap. “Um, something came up. I can’t make it.”
“Oh?”
She didn’t want to lie to Hailey, but Sydney needed to understand what the hell she thought she was doing with Derrick. “Look. I’m going through some stuff right now. I’m trying to figure something out. I promise I’ll talk to you about it. Just...not now.”
“Okay.” Hailey paused. “But Sydney, I’m always here for you, okay?”
“I know. I love you, Hailey.” She never took her friends for granted. They’d been all she’d ever had with a mother too flighty to make time for her daughter. And Hailey had been there for her time and time again over the years.
“Love you too. I think I’ll bug Faith. She sounded down when I talked to her earlier in the week.”
“Good. Tell her that I will personally kick her ass if she doesn’t have a date for the Halloween party in another two weeks.”
“Okay. Good plan. Later. Oh, one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“Tell Derrick I said hi.” Hailey disconnected, laughing.
So much for keeping her life private. Sydney wanted to be mad but couldn’t. Hailey knew her too well. Probably better than she knew herself. She’d be a perfect sounding board. Maybe she could explain why Sydney couldn’t stop thinking about Derrick. The sex was incredible. Had to be a physical thing. So why did she take such great comfort in just seeing him?
Men. They made a muddle of everything.
Glaring down at her hands, at the same fingers that had clutched Derrick while he’d kissed her, she tried to talk herself out of her excitement about tonight. On the drive home and the quick shower to relieve herself of the daily grime—and Derrick—she tried to talk herself out of her stupid fascination with the man.
She deliberately tossed aside the garters and stockings she’d worn and dressed in sweats and a long-sleeve T-shirt. She swung her hair into a ponytail and refused to put on make-up. If this didn’t scare Derrick away, nothing would.
All set to finally put the man from her mind, she answered the doorbell when it rang, ready to end their pseudo-relationship before it had a chance to begin.
Except when she opened the door, she couldn’t look away from him. The stubble on his cheeks looked sexy. His green-eyed stare mesmerized her. Full of an odd combination of longing and irritation, they seemed to mirror exactly what she felt. He wore the same clothing from today, minus the T-shirt he’d sacrificed to clean her up. A minor, selfless thing that shouldn’t have stuck in her mind. Yet it had.
He eyed her up and down. But instead of frowning, he grinned. “Perfect. Here.” He shoved a pizza box at her and walked in with a six-pack of beer and a bottle of wine tucked under his other arm. And not just any wine, but her favorite Cabernet.
She set the box on her table and turned to confront him. But he’d already moved into her living room and made himself at home. His shoes lay by the coffee table and he’d relaxed on her sofa. Two sweaty and bloody men grappled on the television in the middle of a cage, and he had taken a beer out of the six-pack and set it on a coaster.
“Come here.” He patted the spot next to him.
Bemused at the lack of a grand seduction, she walked to his side and propped her hands on her hips, not sure what to do with him.
He looked tired. Handsome, but the shadows under his eyes didn’t lie.
“Have you lost weight?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
How could she be mad at him for saying such a sweet thing? “You commandeered my remote.” She glanced at it tucked by his side. A definite foul.
“Yep.” In a surprising move, he tugged her down next to him. She lost her balance and landed on the couch, half sprawled across him. He didn’t let her go.
He actually hugged her tight. “Nice.”
Was he sniffing her hair?
She should pull back, set some boundaries. Make sure he knew to keep it casual.
Then he apologized. “Hear me out. This is a peace offering. I’m sorry I called you and left messages. I know we’re just friends, I promise.”
“Oh right. Casual acquaintances who just had sex a few hours ago.”
“Right.”
She leaned back and saw his lips quirk. An answering smile lit her mouth, and a chuckle worked through her. “Exactly.”
He started laughing. She joined him.
They watched the match, her in his lap, as he explained the rules. Not long after, they devoured the pizza, which had her favorite toppings—pepperoni, mushrooms and black olives—and she found the beer to be just as good with the pizza as her wine.
But what shocked her most about the night was waking up the next morning in her bed, fully dressed, next to Derrick. They hadn’t had sex. The night had been
one of the best she’d had in ages. And she knew to her toes there was nothing remotely casual about her feelings for this man.
Damn, damn, damn.
Chapter Six
The past week had been sheer hell. Somehow Sydney and Dylan had gotten their clichéd roles reversed. She wanted sex, and he had a constant headache. Tonight made their eighth night together in a row. A solid week of being together, and to her shock, she loved spending time with the man. The celibacy she could have done without, but his company actually made the trouble of seducing him worth it.
She only had herself to blame, though. She’d insisted on a casual relationship. Just friends. Without benefits, apparently. Who knew the man would be so literal? He called her just to talk during lunch, and they’d resumed their discussions about any and everything.
Eight days of seeing, laughing with, and being with Derrick, with no sex.
They walked around the fairgrounds, the lights of the carnival rides giving the night a special glow. Together, they watched families laughing, children playing and teenagers daring each other to ride everything from the speedy Himalaya to the vomit-inducing Vortex.
He’d won her a stuffed kitten. She’d beaten him ringing the bell at the strongman booth, which she found hilarious. He’d taken her ribbing with good humor, which didn’t surprise her. Derrick Warren was an easy man to like. He had a great sense of humor and a gracious heart. When a small boy bumped into him and dropped his ice cream on Derrick’s shoe, Derrick bought him a new one. Not one complaint about swirly strawberry all over his boots, or that the kid had barreled into him, not the other way around.
“Cotton candy?” Derrick nodded to a booth in front of them. “You’ve been eyeing the pink stuff all night.”
Actually, she’d imagined rolling Derrick in the stuff and licking it off bit by bit.
She must have given him a look because he practically ran toward the booth. She rolled her eyes and followed. Her secret weapons seemed to be working. The form-fitting jeans and low-neck peach sweater she wore had garnered her breasts and ass more lingering attention from Derrick than she’d had all week.
“Hey honey.” She turned. A large man sitting at a picnic table with his friends waved at her. “Need a friend?”
“She’s got one,” Dylan answered from over her shoulder.
“Bummer.” The guy shrugged and turned back to his friends.
She let him steer her away and accepted the stick of cotton candy, thrilled at his possessiveness despite her resolve to keep things casual. Though she’d insisted they not hold hands, hug or do any of those other relationship things, she allowed him to grab onto her hand just this once. She liked his large, warm grip. The feel of calluses reminded her he worked for a living. Those muscles in his arms, chest and thighs weren’t just from a gym.
“Mmm,” she moaned and licked at the confection, pleased when his gaze locked on her mouth. His eyes darkened and his breathing grew raspy. Was it evil to seduce him? No. Not when the man hadn’t said yes all friggin’ week.
There had been a few kisses, some heavy petting, that iron-hard bulge between his legs tempting her to grab hold, and then he’d pull away and find some lame excuse to leave for the night. He was killing her!
“Stop it.” His voice was husky. “You’re putting bad thoughts in the minds of men and teenage boys everywhere.”
“How about yours? You thinking bad thoughts, Father Warren?”
“Father...? Oh, very funny. Though come to think of it, I would make a fine priest. I did make you shout out for God not too long ago. God, please. Oh God, yes,” he mimicked in falsetto. “Harder, deeper, dear God...”
Now he had her flushing. “Shut up, you idiot.”
He snickered. “Serves you right. Now how about the Vortex? You game for that?”
She involuntarily squeezed his hand as she took a good, hard look at the monstrous roller coaster.
“Chicken,” he baited.
“Please. I can take anything you dish out, little man.”
“Not so little around you,” he muttered, but she heard him all the same.
Which increased her resolve. “If you want me up on that thing, I want something from you first.”
He frowned, wary. “What?”
She stepped away, heading for one of the trailers set apart from the rides. She walked behind it for a little privacy, pleased as punch it sheltered them from the glare of carnival lights. Even the moon seemed to have disappeared behind a cloud, giving her the sign to go for it. When he rounded the corner, she grabbed him with her free hand and yanked him closer.
“I want a kiss.” And I want to come. She plastered her mouth to his and tried to steal every thought from that handsome head.
Derrick was so tired of trying to be good. Doing the right thing had never been so hard. Painfully hard. He shifted, wishing for some relief from the erection that had been plaguing him for eight days, two hours, and twenty-seven minutes—last time he’d checked his watch.
The little witch had the nerve to suck on that cotton candy and lick her lips like she was playing with his cock.
He knew she’d been teasing him, goading him to fuck her. But he was sticking to the plan now. Trying to keep things simple as he got to know her better.
The taste of sweet candy on her lips made him groan, and he tried to think about all he’d learned about Sydney to prevent himself from fucking her against the trailer at the damn carnival.
The woman didn’t like to lose. She cheated at mini golf, and she played cards almost as well as he did. Thank God he’d been taught by his father, or he feared he would have lost that last bet last night and had to strip down to nothing. Then he would have fucked her for sure.
Instead, he’d won a kiss from the woman. He’d kept it short and chaste—as chaste as the temptress would let it be. Christ, everything she did with that mouth reminded him of sex.
She moaned and curled her tongue around his, sucking him in. Her breasts rubbed against his chest, past the long-sleeved T-shirt he’d worn tonight. Despite her sweater, they might as well have been naked for all the sensation he felt. His nipples were hard, and he wanted nothing more than to shove inside her.
“More,” she ordered and breathed against his lips. She trailed kisses over his cheek to his ear, where she nibbled on his lobe.
He tensed, the pole in his pants two seconds from shooting off. “Stop that.” The little tease knew how much he liked it when she did that.
“I will if you fuck me. Come on, Derrick. I dare you.”
She kissed him again, and he almost said to hell with it. He could pleasure her and still keep things uncomplicated.
She sucked hard on his tongue, and he knew he lied to himself. The woman made him forget his plans, to just fuck her until they couldn’t think. But not thinking had always gotten him into trouble before. And he didn’t want problems with Sydney. He wanted her falling for him, so that eventually, when he did screw up, she’d stick around.
She moaned, and damn if she didn’t test his willpower every second he spent with her.
“Oh, Derrick. Baby.” She rained kisses all over his cheeks.
Before he forgot his good intentions, he quickly pulled away and pasted a smile on his face.
“So, hot stuff. How do you want it?” She licked her lips and reached for the top button on his jeans.
His cock twitched. “I want it pink.” He grabbed her hand holding the treat and brought the cotton candy to his mouth. He took a large bite. Then he nodded toward the ride. “And high. The Vortex. My turn.”
“Seriously?”
Ignoring her disappointment, he grabbed her hand and yanked her back into the crowd. While they waited in line to go up, he told himself he could handle unfulfilled Sydney fantasies a while longer. Every day he fell a little harder for her, and he liked the feeling. And if he wasn’t mistaken, the stubborn commitment-phobe was falling too.
She leaned closer to murmur, “You can’t run forever, Derrick
.” She glanced down at his crotch and smirked. “One day soon, I’m going to collect.”
He smiled. “Yeah? I’ll look forward to it.” He would have said do your worst, but even he wasn’t that much of a masochist. He could barely handle her now.
They stepped up, next to ride the Vortex. He caught her muttered swearing, most of it directed at him. Then he sat with a hard-on that wouldn’t quit and took another bite of cotton candy, all the while wondering where they’d go tomorrow, and how hard it would be to continue to avoid sleeping with Sydney without losing his mind.
♥
“Dylan, I’m in trouble.” A week later, Derrick sat in his twin’s condo with his head in his hands.
“Tell me.”
“She’s all I can think about. We spent the past two weeks dating and not dating.”
“Which is it?” Dylan stretched and yawned. Dressed in designer striped pajama bottoms, the guy should have looked like the biggest jerkwad in the world. All he needed to complete the outfit was a smoker’s robe. But he wore Derrick’s face, and truth to tell, he looked better than the dude on the advertisement wearing the same pajama pants. Not that Derrick intended to tell Dylan that.
“We’re keeping it casual. At least, that’s what she and I agreed to do. But we’ve been on several dates, and we haven’t had sex since that quickie in the house down from mine.”
“So you’re both attracted to each other, and you’re spending time together, but neither of you has admitted to wanting a steady relationship with the other. Is that about right?”
Dylan sat across from him in a deep leather chair. Sydney would love it here. All designerish and matching. Dylan’s furniture looked a lot nicer than Derrick’s. No wonder his brother had no problem finding a date. Between his face and this pad, his many boyfriends and girlfriends made sense. Hell, Derrick couldn’t even think about fucking another woman, not if she didn’t have Sydney’s hair, Sydney’s face or Sydney’s body.
“Derrick, focus.”
“Uh, kind of. We’re casual, I guess.” He couldn’t sleep when he wasn’t with her. How fucked up was that?