by Laura Carter
She laughs this time, genuinely. “I’ll leave you guys to it. If you need anything give me a shout.”
I check out the bathroom and the huge shower. Hell, yeah, I’d like to get Jess in that. Right on cue, Jess clears her throat in the main room. “Erm, what are we going to do about this? Take turns in the bed and the other take the floor?”
With my hands braced on either side of the bathroom door, I raise a brow. “Jess, I’ve shared a bed with you more times than I can count.”
“Not to sleep and not sober. Both of those things are against our rules.”
I shrug. “Fine. Are you freshening up or coming back down with me?”
“I’ll freshen up. But that doesn’t solve anything.”
“Sure it does. I’m going to pour you a second glass of bubbles. If you’re not sober, we can share the bed. Problem solved.”
Before she can process my words, I stride out of the room toward the smell of the grill in the yard.
We’re sitting around on rattan furniture, on the deck above the pool. The sun has dropped and solar lights have turned on around the lawn, the pool and down the pathway to the beach. When Jess comes back downstairs, she’s wearing a thin hooded sweater and tight red jeans. She’d look normal if it weren’t for the bright floral Chucks she’s wearing.
I stand and hand her the glass of bubbles I promised. “I would have said you’re a six but because of the Chucks, you’re more four to five.”
“Are you kidding me?” Sarah asks. “You’re calling her a five? She’s a ten.”
Jess laughs. “Thanks, Sarah. Jake likes to keep me grounded, don’t you?” She squeezes my cheeks between her fingers in that way she does. “He hates my fashion sense.”
She releases me and I watch her take my seat with a cocky smirk.
Shaking my head, I take my beer and head over to where Drew is grilling. I lean back on the fencing and watch him turn steaks, the fat sizzling as it drips into the hot gas. The smell has my mouth watering.
“I thought Edmond was coming,” I say.
“He is. The restaurant is closed Sunday and Monday so he’s coming out tomorrow with Amelie. Why do you think I’m grilling tonight? I’m not cooking in front of Chef tomorrow.”
“Keep cremating that steak and you will be an embarrassment.”
He points with his grill tool to the steak. “You want one? Then be quiet.”
I take his advice, swigging my beer.
“So, what’s going on with you and Jess? I thought you said you were just friends.”
I glance over at her, laughing with Sarah and Madge. They’re all in kinks, the kind that have tears running down Madge’s cheeks. “We are just friends.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“I’m your brother, Jake. I’ve seen the way you’re looking at her. Something’s changed.”
“No. I mean, not, you know, mentally.”
He whistles. “Friends with benefits. Let me tell you from experience, Jake, the next step is putting a ring on it.”
There are a couple of things I want to discuss about that statement but I start with the most pressing. “Shut the fuck up, Drew. We’re both adults. We’re great friends. She’s the best. Neither of us wants to be in a relationship. She’s emotionally destroyed, and I’m… Doesn’t matter. We’re off point. And the point is, we have a good time together, we live together and she’s my best friend in London. I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.”
He holds out his hands. “Hey, whatever you say. Just be careful.”
“Now, let’s get back to that point about putting a ring on it.”
He whacks me in the ribs so hard I fold forward. When I raise my head, I realize why. Becky hands a plate of corn on the cob to Drew. “Can’t you two be left alone for five minutes?”
When the after sting dies down, I straighten to full height. Kit comes over with three cold beers. We each take one and start talking Jets, Giants and Patriots.
“Of course the Patriots will do it again. Brady is fucking unstoppable,” Kit says.
“They’re cocky though, man. That’s how you get tripped up. If they—”
I don’t hear the rest of Drew’s comment because my full attention has been drawn to the wooden pathway leading from the next house over. It is illuminated, like Drew’s, with solar lights, all the way down to the beach. It must be seventy yards away. It doesn’t matter because I’d recognize the figure of the woman walking down to the water if she was two hundred yards away and only a silhouette. I’d recognize the way her hips move, the small, bouncing stride of her petite frame.
Emily.
I don’t know why but my legs move me from the grill to the edge of the deck and I watch as she reaches the end of the walkway and pads, barefoot, to the water’s edge. Her white summer dress blows, like her long blond hair, behind her. She looks out into the distance and wraps her arms around her waist.
I don’t know how long I’m fixed on her before Brooks pats my shoulder and says, “Grubs up, buddy.”
For some reason, I don’t turn to the grill. I look for Jess and find her in the same seat, staring back at me. She mouths, Emily? I nod. And she asks silently, “You okay?” I nod again, unsure what exactly I’m feeling but damn pleased Jess is here.
After plating the meat, we head to the kitchen island and help ourselves to rice and Caesar salad that Becky has made. When we all take our seats out on the deck, we start talking about plans for tomorrow. Jess lifts the croutons from her salad and puts them on my plate. I trade her for my anchovies.
Once we have helped Sarah load the dirty dinner plates into the dishwasher, Jess and I agree we’re beat. It’s close to four in the morning on our London body clocks. We kiss and hug everyone, hoping they all have sweet dreams, and we head upstairs. Her movements are sluggish, so I put my hands on the small of Jess’s back and encourage her up the stairs.
“You can shower first,” I tell her in our bedroom. She looks again between me and the bed. As she bites her lip, she gathers her toiletries and heads into the shower room, closing the door behind her. I pull off my T-shirt, sneakers and socks and lie back on the bed, my arms tucked behind my head. I’m thankful for the fact I know the moves the amazing naked body behind that door can make, because it’s stopping my mind from wandering to Emily. That’s a place I don’t want to go.
Jess doesn’t take as long as usual in the shower, perhaps because she’s tired, maybe because she’s thinking of me needing to go in there before we sleep too.
She opens the bathroom door, steam creeping into the bedroom as she peeps her head around the edge. “I don’t think I planned this very well,” she says sheepishly.
I feel my brow furrow as I sit. “Planned what?”
“Mmm, could you maybe turn away until I’m in bed?”
“Excuse me?”
“Jake, would you just…?”
“Fine, fine.” I face the window but as soon as I sneak a glance and see her short silk nightie—bright because it’s Jess and trimmed in lace that barely covers her nipples because she thought she would be sleeping alone—I watch her like a left tackle watches his quarterback: I don’t take my eyes off her.
“Jake!” she yells, as she dives beneath the sheets, throwing a pillow at me.
I laugh. “Come on. If you tell someone not to look, you know the first thing they’re going to do is look.”
She points and tells me, “Go shower in cold water, mister, right now.” But the slight curve of her lips betrays her amusement.
Once I’m showered and my teeth are cleaned, I make my way into the bedroom. Jess is already sleeping on one side of the bed. Her hair is fanned out on her pillows. Her skin looks soft and inviting under the low glow of the bedside lamp.
I chuckle to myself when I see the spare blanket she has rolled and plac
ed in a line down the middle of the bed. Are you that tempted by me, Jessica Walters?
Since she’s sleeping, and technically, we aren’t breaking any rules because we have been drinking, I drop my towel over the chair at the bottom of the bed and don’t bother covering up my member. I slide gently under the sheets, trying not to wake her, and remove the spare blanket. I turn out the lamp and roll onto my side.
“Don’t go getting any funny ideas, Jake Harrington. That blanket was there for a reason. And I hope you have some clothes on.”
Smiling, I press a kiss to her bare shoulder. “Night, babe.” Then roll onto my opposite side, my back to hers.
Chapter 7
Jake
I’m sitting at my desk. The sky is dark above London. The office is empty, lit only by low night lights. I’m feeling pretty damn good about the investments I’ve made today.
I lean back in my seat and put my hands behind my head, closing my eyes as I stretch out my chest.
“Hi, you.”
The sultry voice draws my attention. I open my eyes to the Angel of Sin standing on the threshold of my office. Her brown hair has volume, like it does when we go out. Her eyes are dark and smoky. Her lips are red.
The words, “Fuck me,” leave me in a tight whisper as I try to find my self-restraint. How can I find it when Jess is wearing a black, sexy as fucking hell, lace corset? My eyes take in her breasts, pushed up and inviting my mouth. I follow the bodice down her flat stomach and the hourglass it emphasizes, a black silk ribbon tied around her true waist. My heart is racing as I take in her garter belt, her stockings, the stiletto heels that are begging me to take her standing up.
“Get over here,” I tell her, forcing the words through my dry mouth. When she stands in front of me, I run my hands over the lingerie, down to the perfect globes of her ass.
I stand, turning her quickly and pushing her front onto my desk. She lifts her hips, displaying her ass.
“God, you look hot like that,” I tell her. The look she gives me across her shoulder, like she’s dying to have my cock inside her, is enough to have my dick screaming to be let out of my pants. “I’ve got to have you, Jess. Your body drives me wild. You drive me wild.”
“Then take me, Jake. Take me.”
I undo my pants, taking them down with my boxer briefs just enough for my erection to spring to my stomach. “Fuck, Jess. This won’t last long. Not when you’re in silk and lace for me.”
“Jake. Jake. What the hell, Jake? Get that thing away from me.”
I open my eyes in time to be battered by a pillow. “You promised no funny business!”
What the fuck?
I close my eyes and press my knuckles into the corners, willing sexy, bodice-wearing Jess to come back.
“Oh my God, why are you naked? And why do you have a…? For God‘s sake. That thing was poking my back, you Neanderthal.”
I hear laughter that I know belongs to Brooks outside the bedroom door. “You lost control of your popsicle there, Jakey?”
Despite myself, I laugh. “Jess, I’m sorry. You wore silk to bed. I mean, come on, it’s not like we’ve never…”
She throws another pillow at me. “When we’re drunk!” She climbs off the bed and storms into the bathroom. Then she opens the door and pops her head around the corner. “And for the record, what number was I in your dream?”
Now I laugh hard. “You were a ten, babe.”
“Then we know for sure it was a dream.” She slams the bathroom door.
* * * *
I do remember that this was the plan agreed to last night—that Izzy would lead the girls through a salsa and yoga class, while the butch-manly men went out for a long run. As I’m tying my laces outside on the deck, I’m wondering why I supported the plan.
“You didn’t tell me we are running seventeen bastard kilometers, Brooks,” Kit gripes.
Brooks holds his right heel to his ass cheek, stretching his quads. “It’ll do you good. You’ve been doing great in my PT sessions lately. You’re ready for this, man.”
Kit is the least fit member of our group. Brooks agreed to give him free personal training sessions at his gym in the city—which are normally impossible to book and wildly expensive—if Kit would take at least three sessions a week. From what I hear, he’s been doing the three sessions and sparring with Brooks and Drew in the ring too. He’s lost, at a guess, twenty-five to thirty pounds. Hats off to the guy. That isn’t stopping his face from contorting like someone’s got his nipples in a tightly wound vise right now.
“I take it you’re not coming?” Drew calls to Marty, who is lying back on a deck chair by the pool, his cell glued to his ear. I guess both named partners of the firm can’t be on vacation at the same time. Marty shakes his head but continues talking into the phone.
“What time does Edmond arrive?” I ask, following Brooks’s lead to stretch out my calves.
“Around lunch he thinks. All right, are we set?” Drew asks.
As we head into the kitchen, the girls are heading out to the deck, yoga mats in hand, all dressed in Lycra. I try not to stare as Drew grabs Becky by the waist and pulls her into him. It’s damn hard to miss the grind of his hips against her, though, as he grips her by the nape, whispers something—I can only imagine—into her ear, then crashes his mouth against hers.
“It’s a good thing you didn’t bring the kids,” I say to Kit, nudging him with my elbow. “That’s far from PG.”
“Are we going for this torture run, or not?” Kit all but growls.
Drew winks at Becky when he lets her go. Brooks spanks Izzy across her firm ass as he passes. Am I the only person not getting any in this place?
I don’t dare meet Jess’s eyes, in case she can see the horn that’s building, that’s been there since that awesome dream, which she didn’t let me get out of my system first thing.
Out on the street, I pull on my cap, part to catch sweat, part to shield my eyes from the clear skies and bright sun. Brooks sets his watch, and our pace, as we move off in a row. Brooks, Drew and I can manage eight-minute miles, easy. We can talk and run. And, damn, is there a lot to catch up on.
We start with Brooks and Izzy. When they finally got their shit together, Izzy moved from London to New York. She rented herself a studio apartment and got a gig with a theatre company as a singer-cum-dancer. She’s been playing open mic nights too. She’s a singer songwriter and, by all accounts, pretty mean on a guitar.
Kit’s kids are beginning to sleep through the night, which means he’s starting to get some action. Other than that, those two aren’t up to much new. Madge wants to go back to work full time but they have daycare issues.
My brother, well, you just bore witness to how insanely happy he is with Becky. I’m fucking happy for him. He’s finally got everything he’s worked so hard for and a great girl too. I tell him as much and get a punch in the arm in return. Well-meant, I’m sure.
By mile three, we’re starting to lose Kit. He waves us on, so we keep on at our pace.
“There’s genuinely nothing between you and Jess?” Brooks asks.
“No, man. I love her. I mean, what’s not to love? She’s funny, she’s smart. She’s quirky and sassy and…” I trail off.
“Not getting out of it that easy, Jakey. And?”
“Fuck it. She’s gold in bed. I mean, not just… Ah, I don’t know. Let’s leave it at that.”
I catch the way Brooks and Drew look at each other. I can guess what they’re thinking and yeah, they’re right. It’s not just her moves, it’s the way I feel about her that makes it so damn good. But, like I said, I adore Jess, so of course that makes sex with her different from some one-night lay who I’ve never met before.
“To summarize, then,” Brooks says. “She’s funny, quirky, sassy.”
“And smart,” Drew jumps in.
“R
ight, sorry. Funny, quirky, sassy and smart. She’s clearly hot. And she’s like gold in bed.”
“Why aren’t you marrying this woman?” Drew asks.
I laugh at his exaggerated tone and the way I’m being tag-teamed. “We just don’t feel like that about each other. She lost her parents when she was young and she’s convinced what made her mom sick after her dad died was a broken heart. She doesn’t want to put herself in that situation.”
“And you?” Brooks asks.
I shrug, then lift my T-shirt to my face and rub sweat from my eyes. “There’s no way in hell I’m going there again. We’re friends, man. She’s my… She’s kind of my everything. We live together, hang out together all the time, keep each other on the straight and narrow, look out for each other. I’m not losing that. I’ve been there before and it hurts like a bitch.”
“Finally, we start getting to the truth of why you and Emily haven’t spoken since you left college,” Drew says.
There are three kilometers left in our run. It’s probably too soon to pick up the pace for finishing, but now seems like the perfect time. I knock up my speed and call back to Drew and Brooks, “You coming?”
They catch up to me and we run hard for just over two clicks. Until we run right into the path of Emily. She’s in tiny running shorts and a sports bra. She’s wearing her pink Polo cap. One I bought her a few years back because she kept complaining about her hair blowing in her eyes when we were running together. She looks as fit and lean as ever. She runs at a good pace. A pace I know is around eight minutes forty-five per mile. She has her headphones plugged into her ears and I also know she’ll be listening to Lady Antebellum.
As if she feels us coming up on her heels, she looks back across her shoulder. She smiles when she catches sight of Drew and Brooks. Then her eyes lock with mine and she stumbles over her feet, toppling forward, her hands preventing her from fully falling. I raise my chin to the guys, telling them to run on.
“Are you all right?”
She doesn’t look straight up at me. She keeps her head down and seems to take deep breaths. Her ribs visibly expand under the skin of her back. She unhooks the buds from her ears and tucks them into the strap around her arm that holds her music.