“Is it weird that a woman pushing thirty is excited to go to an arcade?”
“As weird as it is that a guy pushing thirty is excited to go to an arcade.” He snags a shirt and flashes me a look. “Excited to go because of who his company will be.”
I change my clothes in excitement.
I throw my arms up and jump up and down. “Winner, winner, chicken dinner!”
We came, ate arcade food, drank, and now, we’re playing games.
There’s been a gleam in Kyle’s eyes all night. We’ve had a blast, and I’m thankful we came. I would’ve never gone if he hadn’t recommended it.
“I’m officially wiped out.” I yawn as my buzz flutters through my belly.
“Let’s cash in our tickets.” He snags my hand in his. “My guess is, you won enough for a new car.”
Kyle let me win all the games. I had no idea what I was doing while he explained them. We leave the mall where the arcade is, and the chill of the night smacks into us. The mall is down the street from our hotel, so we walked.
I hook my arm through Kyle’s and skip forward as if I were Gloria’s age. “Thank you, thank you. I had so much fun!” I scrunch my nose up. “The arcade part, not the Kent part.”
He chuckles while dragging me closer, and I inhale the masculine scent of him.
God, I love his smell.
“You having fun was my goal for tonight, so that makes me happy.”
I peek up at him. “You know, I’ve never acted like a kid before. It was freeing, not worrying about everything and having fun. I don’t remember the last time I did that.”
He tightens his hold, and we stroll past a couple making out. “We can go back whenever you want. Next time, we can bring the kids. They’d have a blast.”
My heart flutters, and we don’t lose contact.
“Why are you so good to me and my family?”
“Family means everything. My brother, my sisters, my mom—they mean the world to me. I like you. That means, I like your family.” He clicks his tongue. “With the exception of your sister—no offense.”
I laugh. “We can’t love them all.”
I love that he thinks about that stuff, that he thinks about Trey and Gloria being like me—children never given the chance to do anything like go to an arcade. Sure, I give them more than I had while growing up. We’ve seen movies and gone to fairs, and I’ve taken them shopping but never anything like the arcade.
This, I would’ve remembered as a kid.
This, I’ll remember as a grown-up.
I realize three things as I walk down the street with him.
1. I never want Kyle to leave.
2. I’m falling for him.
3. I’m terrified of losing him when he learns my secret.
I kick off my shoes when we make it back into the hotel room and collapse on the bed. “Kyle Lane, you let me drink too much tonight,” I sing—no, slur. “I will be placing all blame on you for tomorrow’s hangover grumpiness.”
He chuckles and heads over to our luggage. “Hey, you’re the one who insisted on three margaritas while we played Whac-A-Mole. That’s all on you, babe.”
I glare at him with just one eye. “Don’t blame a girl for having a good time.”
He grabs our bags and sets them on the luggage rack. “Trust me; I love watching you enjoy yourself. Now, what do you want to sleep in tonight?” He unzips my bag and shuffles through it. “Did you pack pajamas?”
I drag myself up to look at him. “Huh?”
He continues searching through my bag until he pulls out a pair of pajamas. “You sleep nude when we’re together, but what about when you’re traveling … not naked?”
I jerk my head toward the pajamas in his hand. “Those.”
He tosses them to me.
“You’re okay with me sleeping in these?”
He stops going through his bag to look at me. “I’m sorry, am I okay with what?”
“With me not sleeping nude,” I clarify.
He blinks. “I’m still not following, babe.”
“We’re usually naked when we’re in bed together.”
He inhales a deep breath when he understands what I’m saying, and he tosses the shirt in his hand back into his bag. “Chloe, what the fuck? I’m not hanging out with you for sex. If I only wanted quick pussy, I could get it anywhere, at any time.”
“Full of yourself much?” I mutter.
He stares at me with frustration and hurt. “Not saying it to pipe my ego. I’m saying it to prove my point to you.” He signals to the pajamas at my side. “Sleep in those. Sleep in my sweatpants. Sleep in a fucking Halloween costume. Either way, it won’t change my mind about being next to you.”
His response shocks me. At first, I played it off as a joke, but deep down, it’s been bothering me, not knowing if that’s all he wants. From the beginning, we’ve made it clear this is sex and then we go our separate ways. And I said the same. I was adamant on no double dating or getting too close.
The truth keeps hitting me tonight. I was afraid of expressing myself and wanting more in fear of Kyle hurting me again. I didn’t want him in case he didn’t want me.
But it seems like … he does.
My life gets more complicated.
“Now …” he says, breaking me out of my thoughts. He’s holding up a pair of his sweats when I look over at him. “Are these okay for me to sleep in?”
I flip him the bird. “Funny.”
I grab my pajamas, and he comes over to play assistant while I struggle to get undressed.
So, it is about sex, I wonder when he drops to his knees and drags my pants off. I’m thinking the same when he helps me with my shirt and bra, my boobs bouncing free.
So, maybe it isn’t about sex, I wonder when he grabs my pajamas and dresses me.
He returns to our bags to grab our toothbrushes from his bag. My drunken lips curl into a smile. He texted me, asking what my favorite color was after my first weekend at his house. The next day, there sat a new toothbrush of the same color on his bedroom vanity. Neither one of us mentioned it, but he smiles and winks every time I pick it up.
“You need me to brush yours?” he asks, handing mine over.
I laugh and lead us to the bathroom. “Hopefully, I can manage this one by myself.”
“Tell me if you change your mind. I’ve never brushed anyone else’s teeth, but I don’t mind getting that personal with you.”
We share the sink and brush our teeth in silence. Next, we floss. He leaves when I ask him for my makeup wipes. He drops them off and then goes back into the bedroom. When I walk out, he’s already changed into sweatpants with no shirt on and in bed, his back against the headboard.
Sharing a bed with him and not for sexual reasons makes my stomach flip-flop. Sure, we sleep in the same one during sleepovers, but that’s after sex. This is different. This is comfortable. This feels like we’re in a relationship.
I shake my head. Quit questioning this. He’ll probably jump on you as soon as you get in.
I wouldn’t object to it.
He taps the spot next to him. “Come here.”
When I crawl in, he pulls the sheet to our waists, snatches my hips, and drags me to his side. I rest my head on his shoulder.
A pained breath leaves him. “I want to tell you something.”
I perk up in his arms. “What’s up?”
His voice turns gentle. “Kent’s words … they keep creeping up on me.”
“Kyle, he was mad and talking shit.”
“He said I’d treat you like a whore.” He leans us forward, so he can settle his arm behind me, and then he runs his fingers through my hair, untangling the mess. “I never want you to feel like that, Chloe. I’ve never and I will never think of you that way.”
“Kyle,” I cut in.
“No, let me finish.”
I shut my mouth.
“If you ever, for even one second, feel like that, you tell me … and slap me in the face. I’m not only here
for sex. You’re not my whore. I’m a fan of dirty talk, yes, but us having sex isn’t what this is all about.”
My heart races at his confession, and I struggle for words while staring at him. “So, this isn’t just casual sex between two neighbors?”
His lips tilt into a smile.
I give him a cheesy smile in return.
“Absolutely fucking not. Again, I can find sex anywhere.” He squeezes me.
If I could see my heart, it’d be glowing.
I make myself comfortable, and he rests his hand on my waist. The warmth of his skin relaxes me.
The room turns quiet, the TV he turned on the only noise, and he scratches his jaw before speaking. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Depends on what it is,” I mutter.
His hand moves and begins stroking my shoulder. “Hey, don’t blame a man for being curious about the woman in his bed.”
“I’m close to drunk, so ask away.”
“What made you decide to be a writer?”
I gulp. I hate being asked that question, and I normally lie. I don’t to him. “Because of Trey’s dad.”
He tenses. “The deadbeat asshole?”
I nod. “He was the only guy of my sister’s who was nice to me.” I hold a finger up. “Correction: he was nice then.”
He tightens his hold, expecting a bad story.
“He helped me with my homework and talked to me about my goals. I only got books from him or the library, so when I was running low, I read the newspaper. It was a national paper, and I loved reading the articles. He told me writers got paid pennies and to choose a better career path. I won’t lie and say I didn’t change my mind, but then he broke my heart. I went to my journal and wrote about him, wishing I could publish it so that everyone else would know, too. I signed up for the newspaper to spite him, not caring if I’d make money, and I fell in love with it.”
“What did he do to hurt you?”
I rub my forehead, and the memories of fear and hurt play through my mind. “He was the same as all her other boyfriends. He was better at putting up a front. He hurt me, he hurt Trey, and I’ll never forgive him for that.”
He grits his teeth. “What do you mean, he hurt you?”
“No, no, nothing like that. More like hurt my feelings.”
He presses his lips to my cheek, then my nose, and then pulls back with a gentle smile. “I’m sorry that happened.”
I duck my head down. I hate talking about Sam. “Why were you so hell-bent on not going into law and politics?”
“I was expected to grow up in my father’s shadow. Instead, I decided I wanted to be a police officer. It pissed him off, but I didn’t care.”
“I like that you followed your heart.”
“I’m glad you followed yours. Fuck Trey’s dad.” His chest moves when he chuckles. “When you became editor of the school paper, Ms. Sanders allowed me to read your unapproved articles.”
Embarrassment and shock trickle up my spine. “What?”
There’s playfulness in his tone. “I was her TA, and she talked about how you wanted to create controversy with your articles. You never cared about speaking the truth, no matter how many toes you stepped on.”
“Nope. The truth will set you free.”
“If I recall, you wrote an interesting article about me.”
My face reddens. Shit. Shit. Shit. “No, she didn’t.”
“She did.”
“Isn’t that against code of conduct?”
“Like it mattered. She let me do whatever I wanted.”
“Oh my God, did you sleep with our teacher?”
“Why would you think that?”
“She was young and hot, and why else wouldn’t she have approved my articles about you?” I elbow him. “That’s against the law, you know. My next article will be about Ms. Sanders, the woman married to the principal, who was biased against my articles because you were banging her.”
He holds his hand up. “Whoa, hold on, killer. She wasn’t breaking laws and banging me.”
I snort.
“We slept together once after I graduated and was eighteen. She wasn’t married then.”
“Eh, whatever. I’ll be digging up dirt on her. I can’t believe you didn’t kill me for writing up the article.”
“Sweet Chloe, who would want to be upset someone wrote an article about them being a bully?”
“I never said your name.”
“The description fit me to a tee. A young athlete with a father in power receives favor from the principal and teachers and drinks underage at parties.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“It didn’t get published, did it?”
“It could’ve.”
He shrugs. “I like that you thought about me enough to write an article.” He kisses the top of my head. “You’re a skilled writer. I read everything you wrote. Don’t think I’m a stalker.”
“Really?”
He nods. “Everything that did and didn’t get published.”
“Why? Some of them were boring as shit.”
“I won’t deny that.” Quick breaths leave him. “You’ve always intrigued and interested me, Chloe. You wrote from the heart, whether people liked it or not. Gage gave me so much shit for reading them. You hated me, but those articles allowed me to learn more about you.”
I see the sincerity and honesty in his eyes.
He’s not lying.
He blows out a breath. “We’ve been drinking, so I’ll do a drunk confession, and if you don’t like it, maybe you’ll forget about it in the morning.”
“How about we make this a night of drunk confessions?” I stupidly reply.
His next words leave his mouth seconds later, as if he was waiting to release them. “I don’t think I like you anymore. It’s more than that now. Stronger than that. I’m fucking falling for you faster and harder than I have with anyone.” He grabs my face, rubbing small circles with his finger on the top of my cheek. “Please tell me if you feel it, too.”
My heart hammers against my chest, and fear sets in. “I do … I feel the same way.”
He grins but still looks concerned. “You can ruin me. Please don’t.”
It’s weird, seeing Kyle like this, so open, vulnerable, and not the strong, joking guy he always is. His feelings for me scare him.
“I won’t.”
And, just like that, I lied straight to his face.
17
Chloe
The morning sun beams through the curtains. We’re at the hotel, and I don’t want to leave this room, where we poured more secrets in one night than our entire relationship.
Relationship.
Is that what we are?
In a relationship?
The idea of us being more than casual fuck buddies is exciting, but what happens when we return to the reality of Blue Beech?
What happens when what I’m hiding comes to light?
My back is against Kyle’s chest. We stayed in this position all night, and today feels different from any other morning we’ve woken up side by side.
His fingers lace around my stomach, and the sound of him yawning hits my ear. I somehow manage to twist in his arms through the tight confinement he has me in until I’m facing him, chest-to-chest, our mouths inches apart.
I love the view of his handsome face in the morning. His hair is unruly. Day-old scruff sits on his cheeks of perfection. He’s so carefree in the morning. Hell, he’s so carefree in life. That balance is nice because I am so the opposite. Kyle puts me at ease when the rest of the world tears me down. The corners of his eyes crinkle when he notices me studying him.
“Good morning,” I whisper.
“Good morning, gorgeous girl,” he answers with a smile. “As much as I love saying those words to you, it’s nice to hear them first. How did you sleep?”
I respond with an easy smile. “Perfect.”
He rubs his hand over his scruff before leaning in to kiss me.
“Any hangover signs yet?”
“So far, so good.”
Except for my word vomit last night.
He chuckles. “Your chest of secrets feel lighter this morning?”
Yes. No. Maybe.
“For the most part, yes.”
He snorts. “Only you would say for the most part.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re a glass ball of mysteries and secrets, but soon, you’ll let me crack each one open. You’ll see.”
“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
“How many things did I say would happen between us while you stayed adamant they wouldn’t? All of them. Us in bed together—check. Serving you breakfast in bed—check. You opening up to me”—he playfully squeezes me—“in more ways than one—check.”
I slap his arm. “Eventually, you’ll need to buy my place in order to house your entire ego.”
I shiver at his hand sliding up and down my arm.
“Fine by me. How about you stay at my house and my ego takes residence at yours?”
“Are you still nervous to have sex?” I ask teasingly.
“I’m not nervous to have sex with you. What’s worrying me is what your dumbass ex said.”
“You don’t make me feel like a whore, I promise.” With that, I grab his cock over his sweats. “In fact, maybe you should worry about me treating you like my whore.”
We drag our pants down at the same time. His nails bite into my waist when he thrusts inside me.
“I see no problem with that.”
I moan at his first thrust. We’re close—so close—and I’ve never had sex like this before. He cups my ass to yank me deeper into everything that is him before dragging his hand to my breast, cupping it.
Then, he stops me. “Can I ask you another question?”
Jesus. This man and his goddamn questions.
I attempt to move, but he doesn’t allow it. “Let’s save the question for when your cock isn’t inside me.” It’s never fair on my end.
“Why? I’m much more persuasive when my cock is inside you.”
I’m well aware.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I lie.
“That’s untrue. My cock was inside you when I asked if you wanted me to fuck you harder. You said yes. My cock was inside your mouth when I asked you if you wanted me to fuck your face harder. You said yes. My cock was inside you—”
Vote Then Read: Volume III Page 37