by Zoe Forward
“You’re right, Becca. We can’t have normal.”
What the hell was he doing? Her here at his place again was too much temptation. Between her tears and the terror he’d just seen her try to hide, he didn’t want her anywhere else. This could be him in the grip of post-wedding craziness, although this was the first wedding to make him examine his life and wonder if maybe there could be more substance to his relationships. This particular wedding opened a well of what-ifs in his mind.
Screw life plans. Short-term, he needed to see if she’d open up and tell him what was going on before she got on the plane.
He set up a picnic for her in front of his TV with the meal on the coffee table. Then extracted a bottle of chardonnay from the fridge. It was a much better vintage than at the wedding reception. He poured a glass for her. “No arguing. You need wine.”
“You keep chilled wine on hand for company?”
“Yeah. But this one’s been in there awhile.” Months, if he told the truth. He couldn’t remember the last time he brought home a woman.
She sipped. “Mmm. This is nice.” Then took a bite of cake. “This is really good. Thanks for all of this.”
“Is someone hurting you in California?” He couldn’t drop it. Something wasn’t right.
Her eyes darted to his and away before another bite of cake. She shook her head, but he didn’t believe her.
“I recognize the signs when someone’s trying to hide fear.” The weight in his words inadvertently implied a long history far more than roughhousing on the playground with friends.
Her smile dropped. She touched his face. “Did someone hurt you as a kid or as an adult?”
His breaths shortened until his lungs burned. His heart pounded. He felt as if he stood on the edge of a cliff. Was he actually going to tell her? His stomach rolled as the words came out. “That was a long time ago.”
“What happened to you?” He interpreted true concern in her gaze. No judgment. Only her being troubled about a kid who got smacked around.
He’d never discussed this with anyone, not even the annoying therapist he’d been forced to visit weekly throughout high school after he’d started three fights during freshman P.E. He found it easier to keep people at a distance. People liked assuming his childhood was hunky dory. They thought he’d been born with a silver spoon, and his newfound success a given. “It’s nothing. Forget it.” Please don’t push it.
“My dad mentioned something about your father not being very nice. I guess they knew each other through business. He also said your father died just recently. I’m sorry. It’s not right you had it rough.”
He rubbed his face, not just to hide from her, but also to relieve his sudden headache. Maybe if he opened up, she might too. Tentatively, he said, “My father liked to get high or drunk, sometimes both. Then he got mean. Generic bad childhood crap. Mom and I learned how to avoid him when he was in a mood.”
“Is that why you don’t drink, at least no more than a social sip?”
She’d noticed? Few did. He nodded. “I don’t want to tempt the demon.”
“What does that mean? Do you think you’ll get drunk and mean?”
His shoulders lifted and dropped.
“You’re not that person. I’ve seen you get mad, mostly at me.” She smiled and shrugged. “I admit, I started a few of those arguments on purpose, but I never felt threatened. Deep down, I hoped you’d lose control, although I never thought you’d hurt me. I imagined you kissing me. It’s what made arguing with you exciting.”
“We are products of our upbringing.”
She seemed to take his hint to desist pushing. “Do you see your mother anymore?”
“Not much. Sad as it is, she actually misses the old bastard and kind of fell apart when he died.” He shook his head. “I never understood their relationship. She’s out in Arizona living in the desert painting crappy pictures of sand. Seems happy.”
“That sounds nice.” The dreamy quality of her voice flared his need to protect her.
“Come back to New York. Quit everything out there. Put out some feelers for jobs here. Send one to us too.”
“Me apply to NJ Legacy? I’d be taking advantage since my brother owns half the company. And…” She smiled impishly. “I slept with his business partner.”
His face fell into a fake stern expression. “We handle everything professionally.”
She chuckled. “Show me your moment of glory tonight…the speech.”
He hooked his phone into the TV. “Don’t judge me harshly. I kind of winged it. I don’t usually procrastinate, but I got distracted last night.”
“Hope it was a worthwhile distraction,” she muttered.
“It was.” He pressed play on the recording.
Under the white tent in the waning dusk, surrounded by small white lights, Jake clinked on his glass with his fork for attention and stood. “Welcome, everyone. I’m Jake, the best man, for the two or three of you here who don’t know me.” A few chuckles. He held up his champagne flute. “Let’s raise our glasses to the beautiful couple. To Tori for choosing such beautiful bridesmaids. To Carol Harrison for setting up such a spectacular wedding. I mean, look around. This took months of planning…and commandeering my personal assistant to get it done. You did good too, Emma.” Cheers and clapping erupted from the audience. Jake held his glass toward Mrs. Harrison. “Carol, thank you for doing the best you could raising Noah.” He smiled broadly. “Noah, it is such an honor and a privilege to be your best man, business partner, and friend. So, there was this time in undergrad…”
Noah blanched.
Jake smiled broadly and toasted his glass toward him in a silent gotcha. “Nah, I won’t tell them about that time. I met Noah about nine years ago at a programming competition at MIT. I thought him a nerdy know-it-all from the few classes we’d shared. Our mentor, the Dew Man, who I think is here tonight…Professor Wingate?” He toasted his glass in the professor’s direction. “He paired us up at the last moment for the competition. What was it? Five minutes before we were to step in the competition room and write the hell out of some asinine anti-hacker program?” He glanced to Noah for corroboration.
Noah nodded, but his face remained pinched. He knew where this was going.
Jake continued, “Well, Noah tripped on his way to our computer station, and spilled red Gatorade all over himself. He spent at least ten minutes off his game, trying to dry off and freaking out over the stain. We were only allotted fifteen minutes to program. During those precious minutes, I had to save his ass…”
Lots of laughing. Jake waited for it to die down.
“Okay, truth be told Noah had every right to be cocky. The guy’s a damned genius when his fingers touch a keyboard. In the last five minutes, he killed it in that competition, once I got his mind off the drink disaster. We won straight to the international level. He carried my ass all the way.”
Jake smiled. Everyone laughed.
“Then we took a risk. A huge risk. Dropped out of MIT. Your parents blame me, Noah, I know. Sorry, Carol and Connell. I know we caused more than one or two gray hairs in those early years. But it paid off. Really, really well.” Jake chuckled with the audience. “I’m so happy to be here. Tori, you look gorgeous. You look gorgeous all the time, but you’re stunning tonight. And, Noah, you look…like the same geek I see all the time.”
Noah waved to encourage laughter to die down. “If any of you know me, then you know I’ve had a revolving door of women over the years that Noah, and more recently Tori, have been witness to. Most of those women didn’t get the stamp of approval. Actually, none did. I’ve been exposed to one of the most devoted and beautiful relationships by seeing these two together. All I’ve been doing is trying to find something that can fulfill me the way that I see in you two. So, I raise my glass to you two. To a long lifetime together.”
Jake hopped up to unhook his phone and darted a quick glance at Becca.
“That was the most wonderful speech ever.”
She dabbed at tears as she rose and pulled him into a hug. “Noah is so lucky to have you.” Then she laughed and stepped back. Her back hit the wall behind her. “He didn’t tell me about the Gatorade incident. Did you make that up?”
“No.”
“He must’ve been a wreck. Noah hates when his clothes are messed up by something like that. What was the other story you were going to tell?”
He grinned. “Noah begged me not to tell about this incident in undergrad that involved daring him to ask out the MIT head cheerleader. He crashed and burned dramatically, particularly because he didn’t know his fly was open when he went to ask her out.”
She nodded. “Yeah, good call skipping that story.”
His heart beat the crap out of his ribs as he traced her jaw with a finger. He was worried about her, but more than that he wanted last night again with her. “Everything took me off-guard this morning…last night. I…”
She chewed on her lower lip. Her hands found his chest, but she didn’t push him away. “Jake?” She exhaled a shaky breath and then leaned in, against him. “Once more? You and me.”
“I don’t know, Becca.” What the hell was he saying? You should be screaming, “YES!”
“It’s what we both want.”
“You’re right. I want you. But I want you to tell me what’s going on with your job first.” Her floral fragrance and the heat of her breaths against his skin pushed him over the edge of reason.
She slid her fingers down the planes of his chest. So slowly. He wished the shirt gone to feel her skin on his. “One more night. This time I have rules. Maybe we’ll do coffee tomorrow morning, but I’m taking a cab to the hotel and taking myself to the airport. No weird goodbye as I check in for the plane. This will be it. No acting like a jackass in the morning. No regrets. It’s just tonight.”
His mind lost focus on anything other than her touch as he muttered, “One more night.”
18
One more night. Way to go on distracting him away from that conversation.
All right, it was far more than a distraction. She wanted him, and the want drove her to craziness, like suggesting they have another night. Unlike him, though, she couldn’t do sex without emotions. Last night proved it. He’d already carved a place in her heart. One more night would ensure he stayed etched in there forever. The expected pain tomorrow, knowing he’d give up on them without a fight unrelated to what she’d done to his business, might be permanent. She was willing to sacrifice to experience that intensity once more.
Because no regrets. Not with the threat of being deemed a “loyalty conflict” when she returned, and not only by Symphis. She’d lose her brothers and Jake’s trust as well.
“Becca, are you sure?” He slid his thumbs down her neck to the junction of her collarbones. “One more night might not be a good idea.” Quietly, he added, “I’m not sure it’ll be enough.”
Her pulse beat madly. His touch burned a path that went bone deep, bruising her soul and awakening complicated emotions.
No more thinking. She let her body supersede her heart, choosing to give into sensation, even if it all she got with him was right now.
“Yes. I want this,” she said.
His lips landed against hers, hard and urgent. She opened her mouth with a whimper. He swept his tongue inside to tangle with hers. On a moan, he brought his large body flush with hers against the wall, pressing until all she felt was the heat of him everywhere her clothes were too tight.
She unbuttoned his dress shirt, pushed it off to see the inked geometric symbol over his shoulder, and kissed it. His eyes were now so dilated that his light-colored irises had almost disappeared. He claimed her mouth again and slid his hand up her ribcage, closing his fingers over the thin fabric covering one of her breasts and rubbing the nipple. She groaned, wishing the clothes were gone.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.
She smiled as she kissed her way down his neck.
“I mean it. Both inside and out.” He resumed kissing his way along her neck while his hand unzipped her jeans and ran his fingers along the seam of her panties. He nudged the fabric aside and stroked right where she ached.
“You’re so wet.” He rubbed slow circles. “It’s for me. This whole weekend it’s only been for me.”
Her head fell back against the wall on a groan. “Only for you.”
His fingers rubbed against her, harder. She cried out, way beyond being embarrassed. She needed this. Needed him and all he had to give. Pressure built, pushing her higher until she was ready to explode.
“I’m going to erase every other guy in your life from your mind, Becca.” His lips moved against the sensitized skin of her neck. “You’re going to come so hard so many times you’ll only think of me.”
She bit her lip against begging him to let her reach one of those promised high points. He was right. She’d never be able to be with a man again without thinking of him.
He curled a finger inside her and rubbed her clit with his thumb. “Come for me.”
She screamed his name as her mind detonated. Sparkles danced through her vision as pleasure exploded.
Afterward, when she returned to reality, they faced each other for several silent seconds, breathing hard. Her eyes darted to the bedroom, meaningfully. He scooped her off the floor with a smile and stalked into his bedroom. He set her on the edge of the bed.
“I want to see all of you,” he whispered as he stepped away.
She dragged off her jeans and the lacy underwear. Then came the T-shirt and bra. She lay on the bed. “Your turn.”
He kicked off his shoes. The dress shirt and pants hit the floor within seconds. He caught one of her feet to kiss and lick his way up her leg. When he got between her legs, he paused. His eyebrows lifted in silent question.
She held her breath and nodded.
He gave one long, hard lick. She bucked at the sensation and cried his name. A few torturous licks later, her fingernails dug into his scalp.
“I assume that’s a keep going and not a cry for me to stop,” he mumbled as he licked once more.
She moaned encouragement.
“Might need clarification.” He licked again.
She arched toward him. “Please…it’s good. Don’t stop.”
“I’ll never get tired of you saying that.” He slid his palms up her sides and buried his face in her soft belly.
“You’re stopping. I need you.”
“Baby, I’m trying to get control down here.”
“No control. Out of control works.” She wriggled to get him in motion.
“God, Becca…” He grabbed a condom from his drawer.
She grabbed it out of his hand and ripped it open. He groaned as she rolled it on. “No slowing down.”
He rolled over, ending with her on top, straddling his hips. “You in a hurry?”
“Yes.” She slid her hands over his smooth skin, delighting in the perspiration she’d caused. She traced the stylized tattoo over his shoulder, leaned in, and sucked on it once more.
“You’re killing me here.” He didn’t break eye contact as he slid his hands under her bottom and eased himself to her entrance. “Your call now.”
She threw her head back and took him in one stroke. His eyes closed on a long moan. She laced her fingers with his and led a slow pace, adjusting to him. Then she increased the tempo.
“Oh God… I need more, baby. Can you take more?” He pulled her head to his and kissed her deeply.
“More sounds good.”
He alligator rolled her, kissed her neck, and nipped at her ear. She gasped. He put a hand under her ass to angle her upward and thrust harder, deeper. “You want me to let you come, don’t you? Say it, Becca.”
“Yes.”
“You need me. I need to hear it.”
“I need you, Jake. But admit you need me too.” She dug her fingernails into his ass and lifted her hips to meet his thrust, wrapped her legs around him.
He bur
ied his face in her neck and whispered, “I need you too.”
He gave her what she wanted, pushing her over the edge. She shattered, crying out his name. A few thrusts later, he followed.
Afterward, he held her in silence. Her ear on his chest listened to the rapid thumps of his heart. Down to the depths of her soul, she realized even if they moved on, this was what she wanted. This was the kind of forever she’d dreamed about.
19
Jake rolled over, blissed out beyond belief after hours with Becca, and even an hour of bathtub play. Early morning light trickled through the curtains. He reached out for her, but instead of smooth skin and warmth, all he found was cold, wrinkled sheets. He sat up, confused.
“Becca?”
No answer. The clock read seven fifteen a.m. Where was she? Her flight didn’t leave until noon. He stalked through all the rooms of his apartment with a sense of dread. No Becca. She wouldn’t have left, not without saying something.
He padded into the kitchen, preparing for the disappointment he knew was coming. On the island counter, she’d propped a note against an apple: Only tonight. Forgive me.
She left?
With a curse, he swept his arm across the counter, sending unopened mail, apples, and the note flying.
He’d been on the receiving end of being left before, but in those cases, he’d been relieved to avoid morning-after weirdness.
With a hard flop, he landed on a stool. He massaged his pounding temples. Why did her leaving hurt? It wasn’t supposed to hurt. This is the way he preferred. One night, maybe two max, and it was over. He didn’t do regrets or repeats.
Even to him, the mantra sounded shallow.
She’d said they would walk away and move on. He’d taken her up on the deal. But something shifted for him last night. Had to be a product of discussing his father. Whatever it was didn’t want to return to the monotony of meaningless sex with beautiful strangers.