by A Collection of Valentine Themed Sexy Short Stories (epub)
Ally smiles at me. “You always have to make sure I look like the quintessential good girl for the vids.”
I giggle in an over-the-top way, like her wholesomeness is the best-kept secret. “And we know you’re really not a good girl.”
“I’m good enough.” She trails off with a wink.
Kirby and Ally have been racking up YouTube views since they launched their brother-and-sister act a few years ago, singing sweet and lovely songs like “Amazing Grace” meets “Somewhere Over The Rainbow.” Beautiful, rich, heartfelt songs in the kind of duet style that makes everyone want to go full Glee.
I remove a lip liner from my makeup bag. “I love your good girl persona. And I know it’s mostly true. But then again, I know plenty of other secret details about you.”
“Like what?” She lifts a skeptical brow as I uncap the liner.
“Like how much you’re into Miller.”
Her jaw drops. “I’m not into Miller. We’re just best friends.”
I pretend to be taken aback. “What am I? Chopped liver?”
“Best guy friend,” she clarifies. “And I’m not into him like that.”
I outline her lips. “You were when you first met him. Don’t try to deny it.”
“I’m not denying it, but we made a decision to focus on the friendship. Sort of like you and Kirby.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “Your brother and I never made that decision. We fell into it.”
She smacks my free arm playfully. “Well, fall out of it. Go get your man.”
“Are you seriously telling me to go after your brother?”
She nods. “Uh, yeah. Can you please, please, please put him out of his misery?” Ally clasps her hand to her mouth, careful to avoid touching her freshly glossed lips. “Oops. Didn’t mean to be so pushy. But seriously, you guys are destined to be together.”
Hope flutters through me. I’m so damn lucky she’s behind me on this count. But just to be sure, I ask, “Are you absolutely positive you don’t hate the idea of me being with your brother?”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m positive.”
“And you think we’re meant to be?”
“Like peanut butter and chocolate. I don’t care about the whole opposites attract thing. There’s enough in your core and his core that’s the same.”
I reflect on her words, thinking back to our texts last night, to all our texts, all our conversations, our easy way of talking. Even when we don’t see eye to eye, Kirby and I seem to enjoy not seeing eye to eye.
“You might be right,” I muse.
“Maybe give him the kick in the pants he needs, then?”
A huge smile crosses my lips. “I’d like to. I’m ready to try.” I tap her shoulder with a makeup brush. “Also, I still think you should go for it with Miller.”
She whips her head back and forth. “No, we’re only going to be friends. I don’t want to lose him.”
I grab a tube of mascara. “Are you saying friends can’t be lovers?”
She taps her chest. “For me. I’m saying it for me.”
“Ah, so you admit you have a thing for him?” I say like I’ve caught her red-handed as I finish a quick touch-up on her lashes.
She growls. “Nope. Did not.”
“That’s okay. I know you did.”
“But none of that matters, Macy. The night we met we agreed to be only friends.”
I stare at the ceiling as if I’m deep in thought, then back at my friend. “Did you actually agree, or did you decide in your head you wanted him to be your friend so you would never be tempted to pursue anything more and get hurt?”
She hisses. “She-devil. You’re always trying to trip me up on semantics.”
I flash a smile. “It’s easy to do because you keep holding yourself to this arbitrary, silly, ridiculous rule. The very same one you want me to break.”
“It’s a rule that makes sense.”
After I put the finishing touches on her cheeks, I tuck my brushes away and zip up my makeup bag. “I think you should break your rule.”
Kirby strolls into the rehearsal space. “What rule should she break?”
I flash him a smile. “I think she and Miller should go for it. Do you agree?”
“And risk the friendship?” Kirby arches a brow.
“Yes.”
“Is that worth the risk?”
Confidently, I raise my chin, even though nerves flitter everywhere inside me. “Some things are worth the risk.”
“Like what?”
“Like telling someone how you feel,” I say, and I want to say more. To tell him everything. That I want him to be mine.
Every year since I’ve known him, I’ve hoped he’d be mine.
I want him to tell me he’s been crazy about me too, then pin me against the wall and kiss the breath out of me. He could take my wrists in his hands, slide them up the wall, and plant kisses all over my neck. He could bring his lips to mine and devour me. And I’d let him. I would let him devour me because that’s what I want more than anything. I want red-hot kisses and dirty, naughty sex with my friend. I want my friend to become my lover.
But right now, I want the latte he hands me. One for me, and one for his sister.
“Best brother ever,” Ally declares as she takes off the lid.
When I remove the lid from my cup, mine has a heart drawn in foam. Mine’s the only one with a heart on it.
And the presence of it makes the organ in my chest somersault.
We spend the next few hours recording their video series. Every now and then when they’re at the keyboard, when he’s singing, I swear he looks at me.
Like maybe he’s seeing me in a different way.
Like maybe that heart means something more.
6
Kirby
Are you man enough to give the woman you love a latte with a heart on it?
Hell yeah. I manned all the way up.
But that’s not enough.
Once we’re done with the videos and Ally leaves, the night is still young.
“That latte was fantastic,” Macy says, and there’s a hint of something more in her voice.
I seize the chance. “Want another? We can go to Doctor Insomnia’s and—”
“Have a piece of cake instead?”
“Cake is definitely a good idea. Is cake one of your ways of making me talk?”
She smiles at me, a coquettish look in her eyes, like we have a secret. “I suppose we’ll see.”
“I think I’ll like this way. I think I’ll like it very much.”
We order two teas and a slice of chocolate cake to share, and as Tommy hands the plate to me, he gives me a sly nod. “Go for it,” he hisses as Macy walks to the table.
“All in due time,” I hiss back. I return for the mugs then join Macy in the corner of the shop. We trade bites of cake, along with praise for this dessert. Midway through, she sets down her fork. “Why do you hate Valentine’s Day?”
I exhale and tell her the truth. “I was cursed when I was ten.”
She laughs, but when I don’t laugh back, she schools her expression.
But then I chuckle too. “Look, it’s silly, but I was truly cursed.”
“You really believe that?”
“Yes, no, maybe?”
I give her the details—the broken nose, Lily Van Tassel, and the hex that started it all.
“Fine. So you had a spate of bad luck. I get that. I had the opposite—lots of good luck on this day.”
I sneer, not liking this direction. “With men?”
She scoffs then laughs as she pats my hand. “Don’t be silly. I meant good luck in life. And listen, I don’t think you were hexed, and I also don’t think you need to love Valentine’s Day, but I hope you’ll realize it’s truly just a day to celebrate friendship and love. You should embrace it a little bit.”
Friendship. There’s that word again. Is that all she wants? Or does she want the latter?
“Even if I g
et another broken nose?”
She glances around. “Who’s going to break your nose? Tommy?”
“Let’s hope not.”
She studies my nose as she curls her hands around her mug of tea. Softly, she says, “I like your crooked nose.”
“You do?”
She nods, swallowing. “I like your whole face.”
My body hums with excitement, with the thrill of a compliment from the woman I adore. “I like yours too.” Holy shit. Did that just happen? Did I just compliment her in a way that makes it patently obvious how I feel? Maybe I did, and maybe it works. The woman is smiling like she has a secret.
“How should I embrace it?”
“Well, you did get me a heart-covered latte earlier. I’d say that’s a start.”
But yet, I know there are other ways I should embrace the day. By talking to her, getting to know her even better, understanding her. “Tell me why you love it.”
A brightness seems to stretch across her whole being. “I love friends and family and celebration. I’ve loved telling people I care about that I love them. That’s what I think birthdays and holidays are all about. Showing people you love that you care.”
The way she says that touches into the dark, jaded, cursed part of my heart and makes it lighter. “You’re good at that.”
“When I was younger, I made cards for everyone. Friends, family. I would tell them all the things I loved about them.”
“That’s a cool thing to do.”
She shrugs like this is all second nature to her, and I suppose it is. “If you care about someone, you should let them know. I know you might think I love holidays because I’m a cornball and a former cheerleader and generally an extrovert.”
I smile. “You are definitely an extrovert.”
“And you’re an introvert.”
“I am?”
“You spend your evenings reading books.”
“Hey, I work out too and go to sporting events.”
“But that’s the only thing you get excited about. The rest you keep inside.”
“What do you think I’m keeping inside?”
“It’s not what I think you’re keeping inside. It’s what I hope.”
I’m warm everywhere, buzzing and hoping and wanting. “What do you hope for?”
But before she can answer, my phone rings. It’s my sister. “Are you still near the rehearsal space? I left my laptop there.”
“I’ll head over and check.” I hang up.
Macy stands up. “I’ll go with you.”
“Yeah?”
She rolls her eyes. “Why is that a surprise?”
“I don’t know. You always do nice things. It shouldn’t be a surprise.”
“I like spending time with you, Kirby.”
My skin heats to August in New York levels. “I like spending time with you too. I like it a lot. And if this is part of you having ways, you can keep having your way.”
She raises an eyebrow in appreciation.
It sure feels like we’re speeding out of the friend zone. And maybe that’s not the worst thing in the world.
7
Kirby
On the hunt for my sister’s laptop, we head to the building where we record. We step into the elevator, shooting up to the sixth floor.
A red sign in the elevator reads Happy Valentine’s Day. Yesterday, I might have scowled at it. Today, though, thanks to talking to Macy, I consider that maybe I’m wrong. What if I’ve been wrong about everything? What if I’ve been wrong about curses? Besides, tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. Today is still just a day.
I hit the stop button. Take a chance. “You want to know how much I like spending time with you?”
Her eyes widen, and her breathing seems to quicken. “I do.”
I reach for her hand and bring her close. “For a long time, I’ve thought Valentine’s Day sucked. I’ve considered it a social construct. I’m not saying it’s my favorite day, but you’re making me rethink a lot of things. Including something I’d like right now.”
“What’s that?”
“To kiss you in an elevator.” Her eyes sparkle and say yes. I pull her against me and I kiss her hard and breathlessly. So hard I wonder why we’ve waited this long, but of course, I know all the reasons why we’ve waited this long.
Because I’ve waited.
Because I’ve been afraid.
Because I’ve had so much bad luck, I didn’t believe I could have good luck.
I cup her cheek and sweep my thumb over her jaw, trying to erase the bad luck. To make our own new luck. She shudders in my arms and we kiss feverishly, like we’ve both been waiting years for this.
She moves closer, loops her arms around my neck, and threads her fingers in my hair. I kiss her more deeply—she’s so damn soft and she tastes so damn sweet, and all I want is to take her home and have her and tell her. Tell her I’m not such a curmudgeon, I’m not such a grump. That if I could have her forever, she’d feel like the best luck.
She breaks the kiss and looks up at me, hazy-eyed. “I’ve been hoping you would do that.”
“Is that so?”
“I’ve been wanting it for a long, long time.”
Go for it. Go all the way in. Don’t hold back. “Then I think we should do it for longer, like maybe all night.”
Her grin is my yes, then she gives it to me in words too. “I’d like that too.”
I hit the button so we resume the pace, get off at the sixth floor, grab the laptop, and return to the elevator. Once inside, I grab her face and kiss her again, softer this time, slow and lingering, savoring her. When the elevator arrives at the lobby and the doors open, my sister is waiting on the other side.
8
Kirby
I don’t embarrass easily.
But here in the building, with my sister staring slack-jawed at me, I’m pretty sure my face is approximating a tomato.
It’s probably not my best look, and I’m also certain I’m in big trouble. “Ally, sorry. Let me explain.”
She holds up her hands, shaking her head. “There’s nothing to explain.”
I grab Ally’s shoulder. Worry cartwheels through me. “But let me try.”
“There’s no need. I couldn’t be happier you two were making out.”
“For real?” I scratch my jaw, processing this new intel.
“For real. Now gimme my laptop and go forth and fornicate.”
Macy laughs, shaking her head. “Gee, thanks, Ally.”
“Admit it. It’s a good idea,” Ally adds.
I couldn’t agree more. “Have I mentioned you’re the best sister ever?”
She waves, backing up. “Go for it – finally.”
Then she’s gone, and I turn to Macy and do precisely that. I do what I should have done every single day since I met her. “Hey, you and I should be a thing.”
She smiles like I’ve given her the keys to the world. “Are you saying you kind of want me to be your valentine?”
I groan, but it’s a playful one. I tug her close, plant a kiss on her lips, and whisper, “Be mine.”
Softly, she answers me. “I’m yours.” She takes a beat and murmurs, “But I want you to know why I love Valentine’s Day.”
“For the hearts and stuff?” I ask carefully, since I might not be a Vrooge, but I’m not ready to don a Valentine’s Day ugly sweater. Do they even make those? I bet they do.
But Macy doesn't seem to be thinking of ugly sweaters. A naughty glint crosses her eyes. “Yes, and for many other things. I also like it for the spicy side.” Her tone is so damn sultry and inviting.
I slide a hand around her waist. “Is that so?”
Ever so innocently, she smiles, then seems to confess, “I have a bit of a naughty side.”
I curl my fingers tighter around her. And my luck is officially changed. “I want to get to know that side.”
“You didn’t think I had a naughty side?”
“I had no idea.”
&n
bsp; “Why do you think I mentioned cinnamon?”
“Was I supposed to understand something about a cinnamon comment?”
“Cinnamon is spicy. It’s not sweet.”
I groan. “Are you telling me you’re spicy instead of sweet?”
She dots a kiss to my nose. “I’m telling you I’m both. Do you want both tonight?”
9
Kirby
On the streets of New York, she tugs her shirt down her shoulder and shows me the red strap of her bra. I’m a goner.
Lust cascades in my body. As soon as my brain works again, I call an Uber and get her to my place ASAP.
In my building, we step into the lift and don’t even bother to wait. “There’s just something about elevators,” I say as I kiss her again.
“They’re not sweet and innocent. They’re naughty and dirty.”
“Are you naughty and dirty, Macy?”
“I want to be with you.”
Holy shit. This is too much. This is a dream. A crazy, fevered dream because Macy wants the same things I do.
Macy’s eyes light up. “Would you want to be like that with me?”
Lust sizzles through my body and I rasp out, “Yes.”
We make it to my apartment, and before the door slams shut, I kiss her harder and more passionately than before. My hands find their way up her shirt, where I cup the red satin of her bra.
I lift her shirt and tug it off, and holy cupid. “You’re so fucking sexy.”
She nibbles on her lip. “I bought it for you. I wore it for you. It’s all for you.”
I slide a hand between her legs, cupping her through her jeans. I can feel the heat. I undo the zipper and slide my hand inside.
“That’s why I like Valentine’s Day.” She trembles as I touch her where she wants. “Because it’s sexy. Because it’s hot. Because I don’t just like you.” She stares at me with lust in her irises. “I want you to fuck me, Kirby. I want you to fuck me today and tomorrow and the next day. I want you to do all sorts of crazy things to me.”