by Jessica Roe
“Fucking never,” he promises, pressing his sweaty forehead into my neck. He sucks at the skin beneath my ear and the hand pressed against the door comes down to pinch my nipple. Nash isn't afraid to be rough with me, and God I like that about him.
He changes angle, somehow hitting me even deeper. That proves to be my undoing. My back arches as stars go off behind my eyes, and I yell his name hoarsely while something hot and overpowering explodes within me.
“Say my name again,” he growls, fisting a hand in my hair and yanking my head back to kiss my throat.
It takes me a moment to even understand him, what with my body being jelly and my mind full of mush, but eventually it sinks in. “Nash,” I murmur in his ear. “You feel so good inside me, Nash.”
I bite down on his shoulder, hard enough that it's probably going to leave a mark, but he seems to like it because soon he's roaring my name and ramming his hips against mine. He slows, thrusting into me a final time before drawing to a stop and leaning his heaving chest against me. We rest against the door, and I pray that he continues to keep holding me up because my knees feel like they're made of goop.
After a minute he pulls back to press a sweet kiss against my lips. “So,” he says cheerfully, still trying to catch his breath. “You have a nice day at work, roomie?”
Chapter 12
Ivy
“So this happened,” I comment dryly sometime later as we lay naked in my bed, entwined in the sheets because apparently we just can't stop at one time. He grins cheekily as I push back the damp hair from his forehead.
“Again,” he adds.
“We really have some self control issues going on. We're like fat kids confronted with a big chocolate cake.”
“Hey, it's not our fault,” he protests. “We're obviously just very good at having sex with each other.”
“Yeah, people could learn a thing or two from us.”
He chuckles, stretching out his arm so I can rest my cheek on it. Looking suspicious, he bounces his head up and down. “Your pillows are better than mine. Not fair.” Adjusting his head a few times like a puppy trying to get comfortable, he finally settles and turns to face me with a smile. “Seriously, how was work? You distracted me before when I asked you with all your nakedness and. . .boobs and stuff. Space Head behaving himself? I could rough him up a little if you want?”
“What, so now we're sleeping together him being a perv isn't so funny anymore?
“Oh no, it's definitely still funny. But now you're letting me put my dick in you so I thought the least I could do in return is give you the assistance of these bad boys.” He flexes the muscles in his free arm and winks at me.
I laugh at his goofiness. “You're such an unbelievable show off. And no, no roughing Space Head up. Despite his faults, he's mostly harmless. I still hate working there though.”
“So quit.”
That makes me snort. “And do what exactly? I still have no idea what I should be doing next with my life.”
“Don't you wanna go back to fashion?”
“Ideally. But no one in the industry wants to hire me right now. I guess I could try outside the states. . .”
He frowns and tugs me closer. “I don't like the sound of that.”
“Me neither. Even though it would probably be amazing to work in London or even Paris, I don't think I could bring myself to go that far from home.”
His chest deflates as a relieved sigh leaves him. “Good.”
“But like I was saying, no one wants to hire me.”
“So hire yourself,” he says simply, like it's the easiest, most logical solution in the world.
I glance up at him, smooshing my brows together. “What? You're crazy.”
“Design your own stuff again instead of designing for someone else.” He shrugs. “It's what you always wanted to do anyway, right?”
He's right, and that stumps me for a moment because I'd almost forgotten. It was what I'd dreamed about when I'd been younger – Ivy's Designs, but on an even larger scale. Having my stuff bought by more than just a few high school girls. But then I'd gotten the job at Heikki and the idea just hadn't seemed so realistic anymore.
“You've got all those years experience at Heikki now,” Nash continues when I don't speak. “And you could get your mom to help with the business side of it like she did back then. She was good at it. Or I could help you. I've been training to run my own business one day so I know what I'm doing.”
“I couldn't,” I say softly, but even to my own ears my voice doesn't sound certain. The idea, it's planted in my head now. Honestly, it has been ever since I saw Calin in Dr. Ormand's office that day.
“You could, Ivy. You could do anything.”
“Oh, stop.”
He shakes his head, and this time when he looks down at me his face is entirely serious. “I mean it. You're one of the most awesome people I know. If anyone could do this, you could.”
I blink, because his faith in me, it makes me feel like I could do anything.
“Just think about it,” he says, unknowingly repeating Calin's words.
“Anyway we should talk about this.” I waggle my finger between the two of us, mostly to change the subject but also because the fact that we keep bumping uglies probably should be addressed at some point. “We are not being very good friends right now. Friends are not supposed to give each other orgasms.”
“You kidding?” His eyebrows go up and down. “After what you did to me under the covers ten minutes ago, you are now my best friend.”
I try not to, because I'm supposed to be stern and all here, but I can't help but laugh. “Seriously though, we should stop before things get weird. . .er. Weirder.”
He brings his hands up to rest behind his head. It does amazing things to the muscles in his arms, and I stare unashamedly as I rest my chin on his chest. “I don't know, Ives. We're having fun, there's no strings, neither of us are getting hurt. Maybe we should just keep going until the whole thing runs out of steam and we get bored.”
Mulling it over, I nod, because it does make sense. Aside from with Lambert and Bambi, Nash and I have always been the kind of people who get bored with relationships pretty quickly. Within weeks, usually. And sex with Nash is such a fun way to pass the time. . . “Okay. As long as we both agree on an easy out if one of us meets someone else they'd rather hook up with.”
“Or if we just wanna stop.”
“Exactly. There have to be no hard feelings, because I don't want to lose our friendship over this just because I can't keep my hands off you.”
“Right. No drama.”
“Yes! I hate drama. I've had enough of it this year to last me a freakin' lifetime.”
“Me too. Relationships suck ass.”
“So we're doing this?” I check. “No strings sex. No romantic crap. No drama.”
“Deal. Does that mean I don't have to buy you flowers or take you to meet my parents?” he teases.
I pinch his nipple. “You can always buy me flowers just 'cause I'm awesome?”
He scoffs. “Please.”
“Hey! You bought me flowers last week.”
“Yeah, but that was when I was trying to get in your pants.” When I kick him under the sheets, he chuckles and kisses my forehead. “I should probably buy you flowers just for that comment, right?”
“You know it.”
We high five then, because we are two seriously smart people who have discovered the secret to being awesome friends.
I mean, what could go wrong, right?
+++
“Thanks for inviting me for lunch,” I say to Jemma as the waiter leaves with our order. “I haven't been to the city in forever.”
“You should come up more often,” she exclaims. “We can hang out more.”
“Definitely.”
There's a movement behind me and Blair appears, weaving her way through tables to join us. She looks gorgeously casual in black jeans and an off the shoulder white gypsy top with
her wavy hair pulled to one side, and there's more than one guy making eyes at her as she sits down to join us. “Sorry I'm late.”
“You're always late,” Jemma complains. “You and Silver are animals.”
“We weren't having sex!”
“You're a horrible liar,” I tell her with a grin.
She smirks. “Meh. I tried. What did you order me?”
Jemma shows her the menu and points out a few things we decided to try.
“You ordered cocktails?” Blair asks, one eyebrow raised. “It's barely after twelve.”
“It's never too early for cocktails,” Jemma replies airily, waving a hand.
“You have a problem. And I am not drinking cocktails.”
“Why not?”
“Do I look like the kind of girl who drinks cocktails? Besides, Silver's brother's in the city and we have to go to dinner with him later. I need a clear head otherwise I might accidentally punch him in the junk.”
I pull a face, remembering just how stuffy Silver's buttface of a brother was back in our teen days. To be fair, we did put a lot of our pranking efforts into making his life miserable. “Sucks to be you.” I give her a sympathy fist bump.
“I know, right?”
I'd been surprised when Blair and Jemma had invited me to NYC for lunch, mostly because Blair doesn't seem like the kind of gal who does the whole girly lunch thing – though Jemma is totally that gal, so I'm thinking Blair puts up with them because she loves her sister so much. But I was pleased, because I was definitely up for getting to know Blair more and I wanted to see how much Jemma had changed over the years.
“Anyway, we have incredibly important gossip to discuss right the heck now.” Jemma turns her full attention to me and I sink down in my seat, already knowing where this is going. “You and my brother.”
I stick my tongue out at Blair. “You told her?”
“No,” she lies blatantly, then gives up and shrugs helplessly. “Sorry, I couldn't help it. She ripped it out of me.”
“Please!” Jemma scoffs. “You couldn't wait to dish. It was like, the first thing you said to me when you got back after Nathan's party.”
“True.”
Jemma turns back to me, determined, and somehow I know I'm not getting away with this. “Now spill! But no gory deets, because ew. And don't worry, we haven't told Mom. We like you and Nash too much to put you through that.”
I hold my hands out at my sides innocently. “There's really nothing to spill. We've fooled around a few times, but it's more about healing from our previous relationships than anything else. We're not together. What Nash and I have is purely physical.”
“Okay first of all, gross. Second of all, how can you not be together? You're perfect for each other!”
“Aw, Jem. Trust me, it's not like that.”
Blair shoots me an apologetic look. “Now I really am sorry. She's not gonna let this go for the rest of lunch, you realize that?”
“Oh please, I'm not that bad.” Jemma flips her hair behind her ears. She's had a haircut since Christmas. It's shorter now, just below chin length, with some bold blonde streaks to make it lighter. It suits her, makes her look older, more mature. “But if you and Nash got married, you'd be my sister in law. How effing cool would that be?!”
“On second thoughts,” Blair says. “alcohol sounds really good right about now.”
I second that.
+++
“I just have to make a quick stop before we go back to Blair and Silver's place,” Jemma declares brightly after lunch. Too brightly. I'm immediately suspicious. She checks out her reflection in a store window and straightens out her cute, knee length gray dress before hailing a cab. Her style is a lot different to Blair's, but they're both beautiful. There's not a person in that family who got hit with the ugly stick, that's for sure.
“Where are we going?” I ask as I climb in after her, but she ignores me and somehow manages to give the driver the location quietly enough that I don't catch it.
I'm about to question further when my phone beeps with a video message. It's from Nash, of course, because no one else sends me video messages. I probably wouldn't like it if they did – it would feel wrong somehow. It's a short message; the camera points right at his face, smug little smile and all. “Don't hate me,” is all he says before the video cuts off.
“Okay, what's going on,” I ask the girls. “Why are we in Brooklyn?”
It doesn't take me long to figure it out when the cab pulls up in front of Roseann's Fabrics a few minutes later and comprehension suddenly dawns – Nash must have put them up to this.
Jemma pays the driver and we climb out. I try to frown at the pair of them, but it's been such a long time since I've been to this store and I find that I can't be mad, not at all.
I loved Roseann's when I was younger. I would drag my mom or dad out here whenever I could get them to when I was too young to come by myself, then when I was older I'd spend so many weekends here that Roseann became like another grandma to me. She'd make me cups of tea and biscuits as I browsed lovingly through the materials, giving me suggestions and tips and keeping things aside for me during the week that she knew I'd like. There are other fabric stores around, bigger ones, fancier ones, but Roseann's always felt like home to me. She'd never thought it was weird when I'd spend hours looking at buttons or zippers or trying to decide between two red materials that most people would have thought were the same shade. This place to me had been what the mall or the arcade was to other kids.
I can't believe Nash remembered.
“Nash made us bring you here,” Blair tells me, and I realize I've been stood out front for a long time, just staring through the dusty window. “But this time I'm not sorry.”
“I think it would be awesome if you started designing your own stuff again,” Jemma adds. “Especially now I'm old enough to actually appreciate it. You going in?”
I should be pissed at them for tricking me into coming here. I should be pissed at Nash for interfering after I'd told him no, but this whole setup, it's sweet. . .in a pigheaded way. It's sweet how much he cares.
Grinning at Blair and Jemma, I take a deep breath a push open the door.
Chapter 13
Nash
“What the fuck?” I murmur to myself, double checking the address Zac sent me earlier to make sure I got the right place. But this is it, this is where he wanted me to meet him though I haven't got a clue why.
I climb out of my car, frowning up at the dilapidated old house. It's definitely seen better days, that's for damned sure. It's in a pretty decent part of Fortune, only a few blocks from Mom and Dad's place, but though the rest of the houses on this street seem well cared for, this one looks like it was abandoned and forgotten about a long time ago.
It's a two story with a wraparound porch, much like our parents' house. I think at one point it was white with blue shutters, but most of the paint has peeled away now and the graying shutters are hanging pitifully from their hinges. The garden is an overgrown jungle, taken over by weeds and the litter tangled up in them. Even the porch looks like it's on its last legs with half of the wood missing, not to mention the smashed and cracked windows. And that's just the outside. I don't even want to know what kind of crap the inside of this place is filled with, or what critters have taken up residence here.
Zac pulls up behind me a minute later. He slaps me on the back in greeting when he climbs out, and we lean against the side of his car with our arms crossed as we eye the shit heap before us.
“Wanna tell me why we're here?” I ask him.
He grins. “This is my new place. I bought it.”
For a minute I'm speechless, especially when I realize he's not kidding. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I spare another quick glance at the house – and I use that word loosely – before turning to stare at my brother. “I thought it was the pregnant woman who was supposed to go bat shit crazy?”
“I got a great deal, man,” he protests. “Used up
every last dime of my savings, and Mom and Dad are helping me out with the rest until I can pay them back, but it's a real gem. I was lucky to find this place.”
“You kidding? It's a death trap. Looks like it hasn't been lived in for at least a decade.”
“That's because it hasn't. The old guy who used to own it moved to Florida fifteen years ago and pretty much forgot about the place, but he died last year and his daughter wanted rid of it. With all the fixing up it needs, she was happy to settle for a sweet deal.”
He's always been an eternal optimist, but this is pushing it. “Fixing up?” I blow out a puff of air, tilting my head to the side as I try to see what the hell my brother sees in the house. “You might be better off knocking it down and starting again.”
Zac shakes his head, dismissing my words as he steps forward. He opens up the little gate at the front of the garden and some of the old wood crumbles off in his hand. “Well, that'll probably need replacing,” he jokes cheerfully, wiping his hand on his jeans.
“No shit,” I mutter as I follow him down the short path leading to the porch.
“The house has great bones.” He slaps one of the wooden support beams on the porch before sitting down on the steps. I join him, even though I'll probably end up with splinters in my ass. “But I can see how it'll end up when I'm done and I know it's gonna be great. I'll have to replace the windows, put in some new floors, give the place a repaint, maybe knock down a couple walls. . .”
“Yeah, and the rest of it.”
“But when it's done we'll have a place to settle down with the baby,” he continues, ignoring me. “I figure I've got about six months to get this place into shape before he or she comes along. Mom and Dad said we could stay with them 'til it's livable here.”
Jesus. Think I'll be skipping out on the next few family dinners. “What did Hailee say about the house?”
For the first time since he arrived, Zac's face falls. It seems to be a common pattern whenever his girlfriend's name is mentioned. “She thinks I'm an idiot. Says she fucking hates the place and she hates me and the-” His words cut off and he bows his head, resting his elbows on his knees.