Fucking glorious. Or glorious fucking? Hell, why not both?
Court turns over, laying her head on my chest. Her hair is a wild mess, which I love so much because it’s from my hands and from our sex. She lets her heart slow, tracing her right index finger over my skin as we seem to find an intimacy that’s even closer than the sex we just had. I can’t see her face, but that was . . . more than any office fantasy could have been. I dreamed of getting my rocks off, sure, of being ridden like a horse and possibly put away wet, or of smacking that ass until I blew her back out.
This was more. So much more.
I didn’t know if Courtney would be the ball-busting boss bitch in bed or flip that switch and be submissive, or somewhere in between. But what she is . . . is perfect.
I mean to say something sweet, but the events of the night hit me like a sledgehammer and all that comes out is a blissed-out sigh of contentment. My arm tightens around her, holding her close as sleep takes me.
* * *
The morning sun creeps across the ceiling as I wake up, realizing that dawn’s breaking. In the soft quiet, with only Courtney’s breathing disturbing the silence, fresh worries run through me.
Is this going to be awkward? I mean, she’s naked in my arms and a few hours ago, I was inside her.
Did I do the right thing? I don’t regret this now, but will she when she wakes up?
But Court shifts, waking up to turn onto her elbows, smiling like she’s had the best sleep of her life and it’s no big deal to wake up in bed with me. “Coffee?”
“You wake up, smile at me like that, and then ask if I want coffee?” I joke, brushing a lock of her hair out of her face and taking a moment to savor her eager grin. “Are you real?”
She pinches my arm, hard, and I flinch. “Shit! Okay, okay. You’re real.”
Courtney laughs, bouncing out of bed to snag a satin robe from her closet before happy dancing-slash-wiggling her way out of the room. As she sways, the open robe swings in opposition, flashing me her ass—right cheek, left cheek, right cheek, left cheek. I freeze in place to watch until she rounds the corner, and then I hop up and grab my boxers. Not that I care about being clothed, really, but that ass has me hard again, and if she sees that . . .
I can’t take the blame for anything that would happen at that point.
I make a quick stop in the bathroom to wash my face, pits, and balls, but the smell of coffee is too enticing to allow me to do much more. I damn near run for the kitchen . . . and Courtney.
She’s leaned up against the counter, her robe barely tied and held to her shoulders by a whisper and a prayer as she looks at me saucily, a cup in her hand.
She offers it to me, and I take a sip, relishing the rich, complex flavors. Fuck, I love coffee, pure and unadulterated by all the healthy crap I usually put in it. Plain, dark coffee—just caffeine and bitter comfort. I sigh happily, feeling like I’ve settled into heaven. But I’m still a little nervous, and after I take a third sip, I set my cup down.
We’re on opposite sides of her kitchen, leaning against the counters, and I clear my throat once while I try and think of how to say what I need to. “So . . .”
Nope, that wasn’t it, asshole. You sound like a needy, weak ass bitch.
Courtney reads my mind and gives me a soft smile from behind her own mug. “Relax, Kaede. I wanted last night as much as you did. Maybe more. We’re doing this whole fiancée thing for the foreseeable future with Sanders. I don’t know about you, but last night rocked my world. You rocked my world. I’d very much enjoy doing that again, if you’re game.”
That’s Courtney, even more of a fantasy now, when she’s up-front and bold. No pretense, no games, just clear, level-headed communication. One hundred percent Courtney fucking Andrews.
She wants me. Again.
Be careful, Kaede. Listen to what she said. This isn’t about you or your dick. It’s about the Sanders deal too.
“So I passed the test and I’m convenient, that’s what you’re saying?” I tease with a slight smile, knowing that in every joke, there’s a kernel of truth. But Courtney frowns.
“Don’t put words in my mouth. That’s not what I said at all.” She sighs and comes over to my side of the kitchen, her arms caging me against the countertop as she sets her coffee down. “Look, I work hard. You work hard. I don’t know about you, but I don’t have time to date, to play games, to small talk. So let’s not. I like you. A lot. You know that. And you like me . . . at least enough to ask me to do this with you. So, why not get the most we can out of this? Instead of repeated nights of going home to our private games of jack n’ jilling off, why not just take the benefits along with the headaches? You know, the whole two birds, one stone sentiment?”
I stare at her, dumbfounded. I don’t blink, I don’t breathe, I don’t think my heart is even beating. Is she saying . . . ? Does she mean . . . ?
I’m silent too long, and she steps back, her eyes dropping uncertainly. Her arms cross protectively across her middle and I see the flip of her switch from Boss Bitch to Nervous Nellie. “Unless last night wasn’t what you thought . . . unless it was a mistake to you?”
Shit, I’m fucking this up. Hardcore major fuckup alert.
I could solve all this by taking her in my arms and kissing her again . . . but then we’d still need to have this conversation again later. “No, not a mistake, not at all. Courtney, last night was great, but . . .”
I trail off, searching for words, and she looks stricken, her eyes going wide with hurt and her mouth dropping open in a silent ‘oh’.
You dumb sonofabitch, NEVER end a comment like that with ‘but.’
“Wait,” I blurt, running my fingers through my hair. “Last night was amazing, more than I ever imagined it could be, and I have imagined a lot. And if it were just you and me, I’d pick you up and take you back to the bedroom for more. I just . . .” I shake my head, hating that I even have to say the word. “Ross.”
She growls. Like actually, literally makes a cute little growling sound of frustration. Nervous Nellie has left the building. In her place, Courtney has gone stone-cold still and angry. “I don’t discuss my sex life with my brother. Do you?”
God, she can keep me off balance like I’m ice skating drunk. “What?”
She points a nail into my chest and then her own. “Ross has nothing to do with this. We’re consenting adults, and what we do or don’t do is honestly none of his business.”
“I know, but let’s cut the shit, Court. This is Ross’s business. He’s my best friend and you’re his little sister. You’re off-limits by definition. You, he’ll be mad at, but he’ll get over it. Me? I could lose everything. Including my life.”
Ross. One Life Gym. The Andrews. Courtney. They all spin in my mind—my past, present, future.
“Do I look like a woman who gives a single solitary fuck about who her brother does or does not want her to date? Or fuck? In case you’re unsure of the answer, it’s no.”
She’s breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling rapidly, which is helping the bare slip of fabric that’s barely hanging onto her shoulder fall dangerously low. Her nipple peeks out, distracting me and making a better argument than anything else. Or at least my dick’s deciding that now is a fine time to chime in because it’s asking me Ross who?
She’s wearing me down, and she knows it. She can taste the tide turning in her favor like in any negotiation. It excites her the same way it excites me. She’s not taking this easily, not letting go of what she wants without a fight.
Not letting go of me without a fight.
And I’m done for. We both know it.
I gulp and find my voice. “When this all goes to shit and my best friend rightfully punches me the fuck out, takes my company, and kicks me out of his life, I’m going to remember this moment right here. The moment it all seems worth it.”
Her lips start to lift, and I tell myself that I’m doing the right thing. The right thing for me, for once in my d
amn life.
“With you standing in front of me, back straight, fire in your eyes, hair a mess from my hands, and that ring on your finger. When that happens, help me remember, okay?”
Courtney nods, licking her lips and moving into my space. She presses me into the counter with her body, bare tits pressed to my chest and hope in her eyes.
Hope for me. For us.
And it’s beautiful and sweet and all I ever wanted.
“It’ll be okay, Kaede. It’ll be finer than fine, I promise.”
Sure, it will. I nod, even though I don’t believe her. I’m only risking . . . everything. Court might lose some face, and yeah, Ross will be mad at her. But she’s his sister. He’ll forgive her.
But he legit might kill me.
I kiss her anyway, signing my own death certificate.
Chapter 18
Courtney
“Hey, Boss Lady, there’s a little somethin’-somethin’ on your desk,” Jillian says as I come back in from lunch. Her eyes are dancing behind her cat-eye frames, clearly amused. “Looks like your ‘running’ is going a little more than okay. Get your fit on . . . uh, get your fit on . . .” She’s tweaking Missy Elliott’s Get Your Freak On but leaving the meaning crystal clear.
And now . . . oh, God . . . is that the running man? I think it’s her attempt at it, at least, but her circle skirt, one with baskets of kittens this time, is swinging wildly, not helping matters. Actually, on second thought, maybe it’s disguising her lack of dance skills and helping a lot.
“Jill!” I snap, but the laugh pops through too quickly for her to take me seriously.
“Go see!” she orders me, pushing me toward my office door.
I stare at my desk, stunned by what I find.
Flowers.
Not just roses, not a simple and classic dozen, but a plethora of roses, and tulips, and daisies, and Queen Anne’s lace, and . . .
“Looks like a forest elf jacked off all over your desk,” Jillian whispers behind her hand, though why she’s going quiet now, I don’t know, considering the crazy things she usually says at full volume. “What’d you do? Actually, scratch that . . . let’s get real, who’d you do? And don’t say it was running this time unless you want me to break out my sweet dance moves again.”
Holy shit. He sent me flowers.
Am I flattered?
Am I mad?
Am I a bit giddy? Yes, yes, and mostly the last one.
Stepping forward, I check the card, and yep, they’re from Abi’s shop. Which means I’m going to get an earful about it. But this time, I’m too happy to care. A smile bigger than the largest bloom takes my face and heat flushes my cheeks.
There’s the clicking sound of a shutter, and I whirl to see Abi sitting pretty as you please on my couch with a big grin of her own. “That right there, that’s what I wanted to see!” she says, looking at her phone screen, presumably at the picture she just snapped of me. “God, I could use this as a fuckin’ Valentine’s Day advertisement.”
I’d been so distracted by the pretty flowers, I hadn’t even noticed her sitting over there like a creeper, and she scared the shit out of me. Jillian snaps her gum, patting me on the shoulder. “Oh, by the way, your sister’s in your office. She decided to stay after delivering your flowers.”
I throw an arched brow her way and she shrugs unapologetically. “She had a good plan, proposed it thoughtfully and reasonably, and it made perfect sense.” To Abi, Jillian says, “You’ll send that right away?”
Abi nods, and her phone makes a zooming sound as she shares the picture with Jillian, whose phone dings at her desk. I wonder who else Abi is sharing it with.
Shit. I want a copy too.
I walk over to my desk, casually smelling the flowers. “You did a great job. It’s a beautiful arrangement.”
She makes a noise like an incorrect game show answer. “Eh’nt. Nice try. Wanna play again?”
Nope, still aiming for nonchalant. Abi has her certain skillset, but I have mine too. “What? I get flowers. It’s no big deal.”
Abi rolls her eyes. “Puh-leeze. Last man to give you flowers was Frankie Reigns.”
“And?” I don’t even know who that is, but Abi seems sure so I’m flipping through my mental rolodex.
“And that was when you were babysitting him and he had a five-year-old’s crush on his babysitter!” Abi laughs.
Oh! The memory comes back to me, sweet and innocent. Frankie had been a neighbor’s son, and he’d given me moon eyes every time I came over, finally giving me a dandelion weed from his mother’s yard. It was adorably cute.
And sadly, Abi’s right. It was the last time a guy gave me flowers, so that makes it . . . at least ten years ago.
“Aww, Frankie was the cutest. I haven’t thought of that in ages. I think that dandelion is still pressed in one of my books at Mom and Dad’s.”
Abi snaps her fingers. “Focus, here. Now for those of us in here who are ignorant of certain facts, or pretending to be, you know who sends flowers? Men who got fucked or who fucked up.” She holds up one finger and then another, giving the two options. “So, which is it? Did our mysterious Kaede fuck up so badly that he had to call me first thing this morning to order flowers? Or is your vajayjay so good that he was calling me for ‘thank you for letting me into your lady cave’ flowers? Which is it? Are we mad at him, because I’ve got a compost pile if we need to ditch his body, or is he the latest addict to the Courtney cream?”
Abi rattles off her flower theory monologue so fast that I’m left breathless, my head spinning and my eyes bugging out. She’s absolutely insane, brassy, ballsy . . . in other words, totally Abigail. “Wha . . . but wha . . .”
“Ah-ha!” Abi declares, clapping in victory. “I knew it! Reverse psychology is always your downfall, right? Has been ever since we were kids. I give you a little bit of worry about your climbing under Kaede, tell you not to do it under any circumstances, and what do you do? You go right out there and do it. God, at least make it hard for me to get your dominoes to fall.” She rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning happily.
“I do not just do things because you tell me not to.”
I didn’t. Okay, I did. But not only underneath him. I also climbed on top of him, got on my knees, and he got behind me in the shower again this morning. But not because of Abi or her scheming, but because of Kaede.
I could be addicted to just his cock alone. In a world of approximately four billion dicks, his is the best of the best of the best. With honors, like magna cum laude cock.
Abi points to the flowers. “Evidence to the contrary, exhibit A.” Then drawing a circle around my face, she summarizes. “Exhibit B. Case closed.”
God, if she weren’t a floral designer, she’d be a fucking attorney. She’s better than the guys on Law & Order. “Fine. Maybe you’re right. Maybe, just pure speculation here, we did end up in bed together. And maybe I liked it. A lot. But you said I should get something out of this, so what if maybe I did?”
Instead of cheering, Abi pops to her feet, doing a ridiculous little happy dance that’s part robot, part twerk, and part spastic fit. It’s amazingly worse than Jillian’s dance, which I wouldn’t have thought possible. In fact, she ends up accidentally thumping against the door more than once before she comes over and pulls me out of my chair, turning her happy dance into an awkward, hilarious two-step that has me laughing at my sister’s insanity.
My door opens and Jillian pokes her head in. “Who’s winning the WWE Battle Royale? My money’s on Abi!” Seeing us both grinning, she pops her head out. “Never mind!”
I pull back from Abi and smooth my skirt, trying to remain at least a little professional. “Thank you, Jillian!” I call before flipping off Abi and throwing a fallen tulip at her, still snickering. “You have got to come to Zumba with me if that’s your version of dancing. Stacylynne would have you shaking right in minutes.” I do a little shoulder shimmy-hip bump, doing Stacylynne proud.
Abi sticks her tongu
e out at me. “I go to the gym all the time. I do yoga and leave the ass clapping to you. But you’re welcome to hit some down dog with me?”
I sigh but agree. As long as I can keep thoughts of Kaede out of my head and what yoga-like positions he can put me in, I should be okay. “Fine. You happy?”
“I’ll be happy when you spill all the tea,” Abi says breathlessly, plopping down on the sofa again. “And I mean all the tea.”
I press the Do Not Disturb button on my phone, knowing Jillian will immediately see it light up at her station and hold all interruptions unless the building’s on fire. That done, I sit down next to Abi on the couch. I search my mind for where to start. Honestly, I want to tell her. I think it’ll feel good to share the story with someone. And for all her craziness, I trust Abi implicitly.
“Well, we’ve done some speed dating sessions, so many ‘get to know you’ questions that I feel like he’s scooped out my brain, examined it, and then given it back to me once he was done memorizing it.”
Abi makes a disgusted face. “Ew. But you’re a brain type, so I can see where that would do it for you.”
I blink, my brows knitted. “What do you mean?”
Despite her words, she explains slowly as if I’m a toddler. “You’re fucking smart, and you need a smart guy who can keep up with you. A pretty package with no substance wouldn’t work for you because you’d be utterly bored. Kaede’s both . . . pretty and substantial.” Her brows bounce meaningfully. “Now, get back to it.” She wiggles on the couch, excited for more.
“Okay, so we’ve got our first dinner with Jeffrey Sanders this Saturday.”
Abi hisses out a quiet, “Shit.”
“I know, so we’re in full-blown prep mode,” I say, as if that explains all of our time together. Abi wiggles her fingers . . . gimme more, more, more.
“I met his mom.” That’s a biggie. I know it is for anyone. I think for Kaede, it’s an even bigger deal. His mom is his person the same way Dad is mine.
My Big Fat Fake Engagement Page 21