A Tempting Friendship (Clover Park #10)

by Kylie Gilmore

  “Open your eyes,” he rasped.

  She did and their eyes met in the mirror. His were startlingly fierce.

  “I’m going to break you,” he growled.

  She closed her eyes, shutting him out. “I’m already broken.”

  “Not the way I want. Not the way you need.” His fingers were wicked, stroking her the way that made her crazed, drawing out whimpers of need. “Every wall is coming—”

  She cried out as her release hit with shocking force. The word “coming” from his lips was all she needed to send her over the edge. She shuddered and sank down, resting her cheek on the dresser.

  “More,” he growled, grabbing her and yanking her back onto him. She lifted her head, gasping as he cupped her sex in a firm hold while he pumped, each thrust pushing her open onto his firm fingers, jolting and electrifying her until there was nothing but this incredible sensation of possession as he took and gave, pushing her higher and higher. Her knees buckled, but he had her tight, urging her on as he told her in explicit detail what he wanted from her, what she’d come to crave. She broke, the room dimming as she soared. He pumped into her, bringing intense aftershocks before his own release. Finally he stilled.

  She couldn’t move, locked in his hold; she caught her breath, her heart still pounding. His breath rasped near her ear. He wouldn’t bail on her now. He couldn’t because Damon always returned for more. He eased off her, and she stayed in position, limp and sated, across the dresser top. This was better than the bed. No bad memories.

  He scooped her up and carried her back to bed. She was so relaxed, her eyes were already drifting closed. He lay next to her, his heat lulling her into sleep.

  “Stay,” she mumbled before drifting off.

  When she woke a short while later, he was gone.

  She sat up. “Angel?”

  No answer.

  People bailed on her—her mother, Brad, even Angel—but she thought this time was different. She thought Damon would be different. And, for the first time, instead of feeling helpless and sad over being left behind, she felt only fury.

  She spotted a note on the nightstand: This isn’t bailing. I need some space to think about us.

  Argh! Saying you weren’t bailing didn’t mean you weren’t! Damon didn’t need space, didn’t need to think! She shredded that stupid note until it was tiny specks of lie. Then she grabbed her cell and texted him one word—taradiddle. Both because she wanted his hands off and because he was a damned liar. He did bail. If he had to think about them so much, he should’ve done it with her so they could talk.

  She tossed the phone on the nightstand, grabbed a pillow, and gave it a knockout punch.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Angel showed up to Sunday family dinner after his tumultuous night and morning with Julia, doing his best to stay upbeat. Everyone was talking about Luke and Kennedy’s wedding on Saturday. The bachelor party was Thursday night, rehearsal Friday night. Angel, along with his brothers and Kennedy’s brothers—five in all—would be groomsmen. His older brother Nico was best man. And only two days later, he’d be a groomsman in Ally’s wedding. All this wedding business was pissing him off. He pushed some potatoes around on his plate. Why did everyone else get to find their forever love and acknowledge it in front of God and man, and he had to channel his dark side to get only part of what he wanted from Julia? And her text meant to keep his hands off just pissed him off more. No safe word in the world was going to put that genie back in the bottle. They’d crossed the line of no return, and he’d waited too long to have her to go back now.

  The problem was he’d felt empty after they made love. Well, it was more like fucking than making love. She’d surrendered her body to Damon. But Angel wanted it all—body, heart, and soul. He’d left, needing a long drive to figure out how to move things to where they felt right.

  He stabbed a potato and shoved it in his mouth. He couldn’t believe she accused him of bailing when she was the one who bailed on him! Of course he hadn’t stuck around after she had a freaking breakdown the last time they’d slept together. Her sobbing grief had chilled him. He knew she needed to grieve, not get tangled up in him. Besides, he’d called. That should count, right?

  A niggling of doubt tugged at him. She had abandonment issues from being adopted and him bailing after Brad had bailed (through no fault of his own) must’ve been extra difficult. She’d needed him, and he wasn’t there. Plain and simple. But he was only human, distance was the only way he could think of to keep his hands to himself after their explosive hookup. He’d done the best he could at the time, but now he was starting to see it differently.

  He flashed back to the first time they hooked up back in college. He’d made himself scarce, believing she’d made her choice when she rushed to Brad’s side at the hospital. He couldn’t bear to see them together after that weekend. But seeing it now through Julia’s eyes, all she’d known was that when she got back to campus, he was gone. He’d rejoined their little group a month later. He’d missed her too much to stay away.

  He stifled a groan as the truth hit him—he’d backed off when he should’ve stepped up. That first time Brad asked her out, Angel should’ve told her how he felt instead of biding his time for months, waiting for Brad to get tired of her. And then, when he and Julia finally did give in to temptation, after a year of friendship, he should’ve stuck around and fought for her. That had been a mistake, covering it up. Because then Julia suffered with guilt, and Brad had been wronged, and Angel still couldn’t be with the woman he loved. The whole thing had snowballed after that—his hurt keeping him at a distance, Julia’s guilt and worry over Brad shipping out, Brad’s oblivious plan for a wedding before he left for boot camp.

  Nearly two years of missed opportunities, missteps, mistakes. And then she was married, and Angel wouldn’t cross that line. The marriage vows were sacred to him. He’d stopped the one time he and Julia had drawn together the night Brad shipped out because she was married.

  They needed a damned do-over for their entire fucked-up relationship.

  Couldn’t she see by now that they kept coming together because they were soul mates? They were drawn together, made for each other, and even Brad with his preemptive move on Julia way back when couldn’t break that bond.

  He blinked, refocusing on his family, all of them deep in conversation about wedding food. Kennedy had ordered a huge tiered wedding cake, along with a dessert buffet of pastries and, of course, his stepmom’s Italian wedding cookies. Ironic because the first time Kennedy had eaten the delicious crescent-shaped wedding cookies covered in powdered sugar that somehow caused rapid-fire marriage proposals to spout from his brothers, she’d spit them out. Now she considered them sacred. Everyone was teasing her about them, especially Luke.

  “Those cookies are magic,” Luke said, widening his blue eyes and wiggling his fingers in the air. “One bite and Kennedy got in line lickety-split.”

  “Not quite, Reynolds,” Kennedy replied. She was a petite, blond fireball that gave as good as she got.

  Everyone laughed, even Angel got a kick out of their banter. Luke had truly met his match. Too bad Angel had met his too soon. He was beginning to think everything about relationships was in the timing.

  “Did you invite Julia to the wedding?” Emily asked Angel.

  He gazed at her for a long moment, lost in thought, remembering Julia’s earlier confession about why she wrote the Fierce trilogy. Emily had been the girlfriend that kicked Julia into a fit of jealous erotic romance writing. His twisted life just got even more twisted. He suddenly realized the room was silent. Quite a feat around the crowded dining room table with his dad, his stepmom, five newly domesticated brothers, five close-knit opinionated sisters-in-law, and a toddler.

  Angel flashed a grin, trying for a joking manner. “I thought maybe Dad put the kibosh on that name.”

  “I did, son,” his dad replied. “I wanted you to have time to step up or step off after your date without any comments
from the peanut gallery, but it’s been more than a month.” He looked at him, silently waiting for Angel to fill in the blank.

  “I stepped up,” Angel said.

  Everyone cheered. Angel shook his head, smiling. “Thank you, but it’s complicated.” He looked around the table at the people he loved, who he knew meant well, but he couldn’t explain all the twisted history between him and Julia. “We’re not there yet.”

  “Bring her to the wedding,” Kennedy ordered. He hesitated to call her bridezilla, she was too soft-hearted for that, but she’d certainly made sure everything was perfect for her special day. Kennedy leaned across the table toward him, her expression fierce. “Make her eat a cookie. Don’t tell her why. The rest will take care of itself.”

  Luke barked out a laugh at Kennedy’s side.

  Kennedy turned and glared at him.

  Luke kissed her soundly on the mouth. “I love you, babe.” He held her by the chin and gazed into her eyes. “Love, love, love.” Kennedy blinked rapidly, and Luke pulled her close, tucking her head against his chest.

  Angel caught Jared’s eye, his brother’s expression radiating concern and maybe a little pity. He’d always been closest to Jared, ever since they’d been thrown together at eight years old to share parents, a room, and a classroom. They were both easygoing enough to make the sudden transition work.

  Angel stared at his plate for a moment and then abruptly stood. “I’ll get the dishes. You all go ahead and finalize the wedding stuff.”

  Conversation resumed as Kennedy suddenly remembered the dyed color of the bridesmaids’ shoes wasn’t quite right and wondered if they had time for the women to all go shoe shopping. Angel gathered as many plates as he could hold and headed to the adjoining kitchen. Jared joined him a moment later with another stack of plates.

  “How can I help?” Jared asked. He meant with Julia. Jared hated kitchen duty.

  “I got it.” He ran some water over the dishes.

  But Jared wasn’t so easily put off. “Ask me anything and I’ll do it. I never would’ve gotten through to Emily without all your feelings talk.”

  Angel’s throat got tight. He shut off the water. “Jare.”

  “I mean it.”

  He met his stepbrother’s green eyes. “You would’ve figured it out.”

  Jared socked him on the shoulder. “I’ll get Emily in on it if you think it’ll help. Maybe it’s a chick thing.”

  “No!” Angel blurted. Geez, that would be a disaster, what with Emily being his ex and the Fierce trilogy that resulted from that relationship. He suddenly remembered Julia’s casual mention of how she’d written the books because her vibrator wasn’t doing it for her. There wasn’t much Julia could say to surprise him after all these years, but that had been news to him. If he didn’t want her so much himself, he would’ve asked her for a demonstration with it. He probably could’ve coaxed her into it too because, after all these years, her trust in him was absolute. So why couldn’t she trust him with her heart?

  Yes, mistakes were made, by both of them, but that was in the past. There had to be a way for them to move forward together. He just wasn’t sure how to do that.

  “Double date?” Jared asked.

  “It’s more of a feelings-talk thing,” Angel said. “My specialty.”

  Jared inclined his head. “All right, then do your thing.”

  He gritted his teeth. “I’m trying.”

  Jared gave him a silent look of commiseration, the kind he was so good at with his doctor training. Angel struggled for the words to explain the problem without giving away Julia’s secrets.

  “It’s like she needs absolution from her sins,” Angel finally said.

  Jared’s green eyes widened. “Wait a minute. Are we talking about the same girl-next-door, first-grade teacher widow? She’s a sinner?”

  Don’t forget erotic romance author.

  Angel jerked his chin.

  “Give her absolution, then. You’re Saint Angel.”

  Angel shoved Jared. “Fuck you.” He was so sick of his brothers calling him a saint or a priest. He was just as much a sinner as Julia was, though he felt zero guilt for taking what he wanted. He’d told her before, and he believed it with all his heart, nothing they’d ever done together was wrong. Yes, the circumstances could’ve been better, but nothing changed the fact that they belonged together.

  “He’s our resident priest, all right,” his older brother Vince said, setting a stack of plates on the counter next to the sink. He was a big wisecracking guy with a mushy heart.

  Angel glared at Vince. “Shut up.”

  Vince shoved Angel’s head and then ruffled his hair. “You’re the last bachelor we got.”

  “I know it,” Angel said, “believe me.”

  Jared and Vince, on either side of Angel, exchanged a look. They spoke at the same time. “I’ll fix this.”

  Angel blew out a breath. Sometimes being the youngest really sucked. Jared was only two months older, but he’d always claimed big brother status. His brothers had looked out for him as a kid, but that wouldn’t work now. “There’s nothing you can do.”

  Vince rubbed the back of his neck, peeked into the dining room where the talk was still rapid-fire over wedding details, and looked back to Angel. “Maybe you should get a real priest. Soph brought Father Munson into the conversation about Mom, and it did help.” Vince had apparently harbored guilt over not visiting their mother’s grave.

  “Yeah,” Jared chimed in from Angel’s other side. “Maybe she just needs to go to confession.”

  Angel couldn’t imagine Julia confessing to a priest what they’d done let alone explaining the Fierce trilogy. “I’ll be her confessor.”

  “Oh-hoo-hoo!” Vince chortled. “What kind of penance are we talking?”

  Jared grinned. “Well, she’s got to be on her knees.”

  “You’re both going to hell,” Angel said with a wide grin.

  Jared hip-checked Angel, bumping him into Vince. “We’ll see you there.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Angel went to work at his usual early time Monday morning, settled into his private office, and booted up his laptop. He liked to review his schedule and notes before the students arrived so he could be available at a moment’s notice if needed. He’d just picked up his cup of coffee when Julia strode in, startling him. She never showed up early for work. He set the mug back down. She was wearing the dark blue sweater that clung to her breasts and a skirt with bare legs in flats. He would’ve preferred heels, but it was work. She’d be on her feet all day in the classroom. His mind wandered to what she had on under the skirt when he realized she was eerily silent.

  He met her dark blue eyes for the first time and discovered she was glaring like a would-be murderess. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t do something for him. She was more a preemptive apologizer than a fighter. The fire in her eyes was captivating.

  “Good morning,” he said, by which he meant good glory, gimme some of that.

  She shut the door behind her and locked it. He watched in fascination, all of this unprecedented in their shared history of working at Eastman Elementary. Her hands were in fists and she closed the distance between them. She lifted a hand over his desk and sprinkled it with white confetti.

  “Just because you say you’re not bailing,” she snapped, “doesn’t mean you didn’t actually bail.”

  He glanced at the confetti again, saw ink marks and realized it was his note. “Nice,” he muttered. “Look—”

  “No, you look!” Her eyes flashed, igniting him. He loved that she was fiery instead of sad or hurt. “I hope you got the meaning of that text I sent that you ignored. Just like you ignored me.” She smacked her palms flat on the desk and got in his face. “Hands off from now on.”

  “Sorry,” he replied calmly, “your safe word expired when I bent you over the dresser, spread your legs, and fu—”

  She raised a hand to slap him, and he caught her wrist before she made contact. She strugg
led to get free, and he tightened his grip, watching her cheeks and neck rise with color. Damn, she was making him hot, and this was really not the place.

  “Let’s dance,” he said.

  She stopped struggling and stared at him blankly, probably because they never danced, which gave him enough time to maneuver around the desk to where she stood. He wrapped an arm around her waist. “Hey, darling.” He backed her slowly toward the closed door like a dance that had them walking together, pelvis to pelvis.

  “I’m not your darling,” she snapped. “And we’re not dancing.”

  “We kinda are,” he said.

  Her back hit the door and he boxed her in, his hands on either side of her head, all up in her space. Her eyes flashed, making him rock hard.

  “Damon doesn’t bail,” she said in a voice filled with annoyance. Like he’d missed the most important point in the Damon-Mia experience.

  That was when it hit him how to make things right. This was the classic two birds with one flying fuck. He wouldn’t have to stop sleeping with her, and he’d eventually get them from Fierce Craving to Fierce Loving. He’d play out her fantasies all the way through Mia and Damon’s true love happy ending. Damon even proposed at the end, and Mia happily accepted. That was also her secret desire. With him.

  He watched her as he slowly shifted position, cupping her shoulders and then sliding his hands down her arms. “What does Damon do instead of bail?” He knew but he loved hearing her say out loud her secret desires.