Right Kind of Wrong

by Sara Rider

  “No? How do you see me?”

  There were so many questions buried beneath the one she asked, and he knew the one he chose to answer would be just as powerful as whatever he said. She’d led him to a crossroads, and it was up to him to decide if he would take the safe, easy path forward, or the one with danger signs all around it.

  He reached for a pen and a pad of yellow-lined paper on her desk. She didn’t ask him what he was doing. If she had, he might have lost his nerves. Drawing his feelings was easier than trying to find the right words. This was the only way to really show her.

  It took a long time, but when he finished, he slid the sketch toward her. “This is how I see you.”

  She gasped as she took in the image. He walked out of her office before she could say anything else.

  Julia stared at the sketch for a long time after Fergus left. It was done with a precision and skill that could only come from a true artist. Someone who saw the world in a way others couldn’t. He’d drawn her with a stylized hand, accentuating all her curves and angles like she was the most beautiful thing in the universe. The sun shone behind her head like a halo, and she was surrounded by smiling people—all of whom stood just a little too far away from her, as if her glow kept them at a distance.

  In the corner of the drawing, apart from everyone else, was Fergus. He’d drawn himself simply and modestly, but there was an unmistakable longing in his expression. He’d titled the drawing “Fergus MacNair and the Brightest Star in the Sky.”

  Her heart seized, flooded with feelings she’d never experienced before. He saw her in a way no one else had before, and yet she didn’t really know anything about him—the real him—at all.

  But, god, she wanted to.

  9

  It was late by the time Julia went home. She hadn’t known how to deal with all the thoughts of Fergus and the emotions swirling inside her, so she ignored them, diving into her plans for the spring event schedule at the Holy Grale. Still, Fergus crept into her mind at almost every turn. A week ago, she’d been certain the man hated her. How was she supposed to deal with this shift in her understanding of him? She felt like a passenger in a car that had just slammed on the brakes, skidding to a halt. She wasn’t quite sure what had happened or what it meant.

  With her car still in the shop, she’d taken a cab home again. She doubted she could drive one-handed, anyway. It would have been cheaper to let her brother drive her, but he was working late tonight and she didn’t have the energy to stay up. She didn’t have the energy to listen to him lecture her either. She was going to have to figure something out one way or another soon, though, because she needed to be able to drive the Kiesselburgers to the daffodil fields next month if she wanted their surprise anniversary party to be successful.

  Outside of the pub, the smell of beer in her hair was so much more noticeable. The doctors told her she wouldn’t be able to shower without wrapping her cast in plastic. She hadn’t quite figured out how to do that yet, so she’d stuck to taking baths and relying on the wonders of dry shampoo for the past week. But dry shampoo wasn’t going to cut it anymore and she didn’t have any plastic bags in her apartment. She was just going to have to live with the sour smell for the night and figure it out in the morning.

  She used her good hand to reach for the zipper on her dress. She’d managed to shimmy into a sleeveless sheath this afternoon. Shimmying out, however, wouldn’t be so simple. The zipper was stuck. She needed two hands to manage it. She’d been warned by the doctor not to lift her arm too much, but she didn’t have a choice. She raised her broken arm to the back of her neck and tugged at the zipper while using her other hand to pull the fabric tight.

  It was awkward and painful and completely unsuccessful. She shifted and tugged some more, then felt a sting at her scalp.

  “No, no, no!”

  Her bracelet—the one her mom had given her on her sixteenth birthday—was caught in her hair. It was stupid to wear it today, but she wanted to prove to herself she could still be put together, even with a broken arm. If she pulled too hard she would rip the delicate gold. She sank to her bed, fighting the rush of tears that pressed against her eyelids. Why couldn’t one thing go right in her life?

  As much as she hated to admit it, she needed help. She didn’t want to call her brother or her friends. They would all treat her like she was a fragile bird needing to be locked away inside a gilded cage. She could ask Carol for help, but then she’d risk her trying to cancel their outing to daffodil fields and blowing the entire surprise party.

  There was only one person she could ask.

  Fergus pulled up to Julia’s apartment and looked at the text she’d sent him one more time.

  I need help. Can you come over?

  Even with the words right in front of him, he had trouble believing she was asking him for help. He didn’t know her well, but he knew her pride and independence were things she valued above all else. She wouldn’t ask for help if she didn’t need it.

  He knocked at her door and a soft, distant voice came in response, instructing him to open it. Her apartment was dark when he stepped inside, but the streetlights illuminated the space well enough for him to see the care and attention she’d put into decorating the small space.

  “I’m in here,” she called from the bedroom.

  He found her sitting on the bed with her left arm twisted behind her back, caught in the long strands of her hair. Her eyes and cheeks were puffy like she’d been crying, though he suspected it was more likely from the pressure of trying not to cry.

  “I got my bracelet caught in my hair. It was my mom’s and I don’t want to break it. And if you say anything snarky or mean or that could be interpreted as an ‘I told you so,’ I will find a way to make you regret it for the rest of your life.”

  “It would be easiest just to cut it out.”

  Her eyes widened. “No! I’m still traumatized from the time Eli decided to play barber when I was five years old. I had a cowlick for my entire kindergarten year. No scissors, please.”

  “Okay.” He turned on her bedside lamp, then sat down on the mattress next to her. “This will work better if you stand in front of me.”

  He opened his knees and guided her between them. Their height difference was extreme enough that he was eye-level with her nape. The bracelet around her wrist was a thin gold chain with the patina of an expensive antique. Carefully, he loosened a small strand of hair from the metal, then another, starting with the easy pieces before tackling the snarl.

  “Hold still,” he cautioned, tugging slowly at another strand.

  “I’m trying.” Her arm trembled with the effort of holding the awkward position for so long.

  “Try harder.”

  “It’s not easy.”

  He knew from years of experience as a parent that there was no way to do this without causing her a little bit of pain. He tightened his legs around hers to hold her still. Her breath came out in a shaky exhalation. The sound ignited something inside him—an arousal that beat through his veins like molten lava. Their bodies fit together in a way that defied gravity and physics and he wanted nothing more than to explore her soft curves. Even the scent of stale beer in her hair couldn’t diminish the effect she had on him.

  It felt like a century passed in the time it took to finally untangle the last of her hair from the bracelet. “There.”

  She brought her now-freed arm to her chest. “Thank you.”

  He brushed her hair over her shoulders, exposing the soft pale skin at the base of her neck. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to trace the ridges of her spine with his lips and explore every inch of her skin. Reluctantly, he loosened the hold of his thighs against hers to let her go.

  She didn’t move, keeping her face, and whatever secrets it held, hidden from him. “Would you mind helping with my zipper, too? I don’t want to get stuck again.”

  “Yeah, sure.” His voice was rough. He pulled the zipper down slowly, savoring the expanse of skin
revealed by the parting blue fabric. There was no bra cutting across her back, and he could see every freckle dotting her skin like a constellation. The zipper stopped below her waist, giving him a peek of the white lace of her underwear.

  His Adam’s apple scraped against his throat as he tried to breathe. She was so beautiful, it knocked the wind right out of him. He circled his hands along her waist, not wanting to let her go, then closed his eyes and rested his forehead against her back.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “I want to kiss you again,” he said almost ruefully.

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “And that’s a problem?” Her voice was so soft. Barely a whisper.

  “Yeah, it is. But I still want to.”

  “Okay.”

  He stilled. It was the one word he desperately wanted to hear, and the last thing he expected her to say. Ever so slowly, he pressed a ghost of a kiss to her spine. She shuddered. Her skin was soft and sweet, igniting an animal instinct inside him. He wanted to make her scream. He wanted her to tremble with ecstasy from his touch. He wanted her writhing in pleasure beneath him. He wanted to taste her everywhere. But he didn’t know what she wanted.

  He let her go.

  She turned to face him, arms holding the blue dress across her chest, and stepped closer. The air crackled around them, electric. Slowly, she let her hands fall to her sides. The dress slipped down her arms and fell to her waist, exposing her small bare breasts.

  “Help me with the rest?”

  For a moment, he could barely believe this was real. It felt like he was in a dream, but she was more beautiful than anything his imagination could conjure.

  Carefully, he pulled the dress over her cast and down her hips until it puddled on the floor around her. She stood only in white lace panties, the rest of her body bared for him to see.

  His hand nearly trembled as he took her wrist and carefully undid the clasp on the bracelet, then set it on the side of the nightstand. He removed his glasses next. He ran palms up her thighs and over her wide hips to the soft curve of her waist. Goose bumps sprang over her skin where his hands passed. He moved to her breasts, stroking the undersides in a delicate rhythm until he could convince himself this was real. Her breath came in short, shallow pants. He wanted to tease her until she lost all control and begged for him, but he didn’t have the self-control.

  “Are you sure, Julia?”

  “Yes.”

  With that one whispered word, he dipped his head to her breast and licked her small, pink nipple. Blood surged to his cock until it swelled painfully against his jeans. He sucked her nipple, and brought his hand to her other breast, stroking and pinching and savoring the feel of her. She arched into him and threaded her fingers in his hair, holding him like she would never let him go. She whispered his name as he sucked and kissed her breasts, each sound a teasing hint of what she liked.

  He pulled her underwear down her thighs, needing to see and know all of her. “You’re beautiful.”

  “You make me feel that way.” She said it like it was a gift she was giving him. He lowered her to the bed, careful not to hurt her arm, then lay down next to her and kissed her. Unlike the last time, this kiss was slow and sensual, but just as hungry. Her tongue was eager for his as she clutched the back of his head.

  He couldn’t make her forget the pain of her broken arm, but he was determined to distract her from it, if only for tonight.

  He slid his hand down her body and through the slick heat between her thighs. He teased her with soft strokes and the barest brushes against her clit. She whimpered, fueling his need to make her scream for him.

  She held nothing back. Every bit of pleasure he unleashed upon her was etched into the muscles of her face and echoed in her suppressed cries.

  He kissed his way down her body. He parted her thighs and lowered his mouth to her pussy. He didn’t tease her anymore. He licked and sucked until she thrashed beneath him, chanting a refrain of “Fergus! Oh god! Fergus!”

  Her back arched wickedly as her orgasm crested. Her cast accidentally whacked him in the forehead but nothing—not even pain—could stop him from bringing her pleasure to a climax.

  She came with a loud gasp before slumping against the mattress. He kissed her thigh before pulling away and climbing next to her on the bed once more to take in the mottled pink flush across her body.

  He rested his hand on her belly as she tried to catch her breath. Now that he had gotten to touch her, he couldn’t keep his hands off her.

  Her eyes met his with a sparkling hunger. “We’re not done yet,” she said between rasping breaths.

  A rush of blood hardened his cock until it ached. “You want more?”

  “I want you naked.”

  Amusement pulled his lips into a grin. He’d expected her to be exhausted and sleepy, but she looked more awake and determined than ever. “Yes, ma’am.” He stood up and stripped his sweater over his head.

  “Keep going.”

  He unzipped his jeans and pushed them to the floor, leaving his boxers in place.

  She scowled. “I said naked and I meant it.”

  He hardened cock throbbed with need, but he didn’t comply. He was enjoying the tease and the spark it elicited in her brown eyes too much.

  “Don’t make me hurt you.”

  “Maybe I just need a little help tonight, too.”

  She rose to her knees and brushed her cheek against his erection, like a cat caressing a beloved master. He groaned. It was the most exquisite torture he’d ever experienced. How had he gone so long without another person’s touch? How had he denied himself this?

  “You win,” he said roughly, shucking his boxers completely.

  “I always do.”

  His pride swelled when she looked at him with a ravenous expression, teeth sinking into her full, pink bottom lip.

  She wrapped her hand around his length in a soft grip, giving him only a fraction of the relief he needed. She winced. “I’m…I’m not left-handed.”

  He nodded, understanding her problem. He lifted her hand to his mouth and licked her palm, then brought it to his cock. He covered her hand with his, squeezing and stroking with just the right amount of pressure to make his eyes roll back in his head. He’d pictured this so many times—Julia naked beneath him, eyes wide with desire—but never believed it would actually happen.

  It was almost too much.

  “Condom?” he asked before all brain cells burned out of his head.

  “Nightstand,” she said.

  It was painful to peel her hand off him, but he wanted desperately to be inside her. It took him a while to find the roll of condoms beneath the piles of books and notebooks stuffed inside the nightstand drawer. Another time or place he might have appreciated the glimpse into her secret life, but the only thing he felt right now was impatience and a wild desire to feel her skin against his once more.

  He rolled the condom over his erection, wishing it were her hands. He leaned over her, poising himself at the juncture of her thighs. The bed dipped beneath him, and she set her arms out to brace herself. She winced from the effort.

  “We don’t have to do this,” he said quickly.

  She caught his arm before he could back way. “Oh no, we are definitely doing this. It’s just that my mattress is old and soft.”

  “Right, yeah.” He backed away. “What about on your side?”

  She nodded and, with not a small amount of awkwardness, shifted onto her side, then looked at him over her shoulder. “Okay, ready.”

  He climbed onto the bed beside her, taking a moment to stroke his hand along the perfect curve of her hip before angling her right leg up. He slid his cock to her opening. It had been so long since he’d done this and his nerves made him question every movement and angle and breathy sound. He pressed into her slowly, but her moan didn’t sound right. It was strained and rough.

  He pulled back, letting her thigh fall back to a natural position. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”
>
  “No! It wasn’t you,” she said quickly. “I just lost my balance a little bit and put my arm down to catch myself.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I swear. But I think I need to be on top for this to work. It’s not my favorite position, but…”

  “Right.” Nerves spooled in in his stomach. There was nothing hotter than the thought of Julia riding him, but it had been years since he’d been with anyone. He didn’t know how long he could last if he wasn’t in complete control.

  “Is that a problem for you?”

  “No. No problem at all,” he lied. He lay down next to her and kissed her deep and hard, trying to wipe away all their worries and fill them both with promises of what was to come. “It’s just that it’s been a long time. So go easy on me, okay?”

  She curled her unbroken hand around his neck and stared at him with those deep brown eyes. “How long?”

  He swallowed, wondering if this would be the moment that sent her running. “Seven years.”

  Her eyes widened. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.” He stroked his hand down her shoulder, tracing the curve of her collarbone with his thumb before finding the tight bead of her nipple. If she was going to cut and run now, he wanted to maximize his memories of her.

  “And you’re sure you want to do this now? With me?”

  “Christ, Julia. Of course I’m sure I want you.” He kissed her again and cupped her breast. “I want you so badly I don’t think I can control myself if you’re on top. That’s the only problem.”

  A wry grin curved her lips. “One way or another, we’ll figure this out.”

  She urged him to lie back, then climbed to her knees and straddled him.

  With a groan, he steadied his cock as she sank onto him, enveloping him with her tight, wet heat. The rush of bliss made his head spin. It would be so easy to close his eyes and lose himself to the sensations he’d missed out on for so long, but he didn’t know what this thing was between them. He didn’t know if he would ever get the chance again. He pried his eyes open and watched her rise up and slide back down. The way her breasts bounced and her thighs flexed with every rhythmic undulation. The way her teeth bit into her lower lip as she took her pleasure from him and gave it back just as fiercely.