They’d indulged in bouts of lazy, alternating with preparations for the party. They’d cooked together, working seamlessly side by side. Gwen stopping every so often to offer him a taste or lean close to take a deep draw through her nose and moan.
She was such a sensualist. Brody decided he could spend the rest of his life in the kitchen with her and never get tired of it.
When the food prep was complete, Gwen set out holiday decorations while he shoveled the walk and back terrace before setting up the restaurant-grade outdoor heater. Gwen had a glass of wine waiting for him when he came in, and with a few hours to kill before his guests started showing up, they’d put on a movie, watching until Gwen drifted off to sleep beneath his arm.
Her head rested against his chest…and then his stomach…and then his lap. And yeah, sitting there stroking the soft silk of her hair as she slept offered the kind of contentment he could definitely get used to.
If he had the chance.
Hell, the way she’d been looking up at him when they’d been on the couch—her eyes wide and filled with the kind of surprise that didn’t have anything to do with the way he’d caught her—made him think he would. Only then he’d thought about fucking Ted and that unrelenting crush that was the reason she’d been on his couch in the first place. She’d looked like she would let him kiss her if he’d tried, but what then?
She wanted Ted.
Didn’t she?
She never brought him up anymore…but what if Brody was just seeing what he wanted to see?
Yeah, she might have let him kiss her, but somehow he’d scraped together enough sense not to try.
Looking down at her as she slept, he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to resist.
Gwen was embarrassed when she woke up, her cheeks pink and her eyes hazy. She was beautiful in her fluster as she apologized for falling asleep all over him—something he would be replaying on a loop in his head for time eternal—and then excused herself to get ready for the night ahead.
Guests didn’t start showing up until seven, and it was probably seven thirty before he saw Gwen again. When he did, she was standing in the corner looking festive and beautiful in a red sweater dress with a thin black belt that matched her heels. She’d been talking with a group of his friends he was fairly sure she hadn’t met before, laughing and chatting as though she’d known them forever. As though she could fit into his life without even trying. He probably looked like some kind of creeper standing there staring at her, but when her eyes met his, she’d given him a shy smile that did things to his chest he didn’t fully understand.
He wanted to talk to her. Find out what she was thinking. Figure out what she was feeling, if maybe it was the same as him. He wanted to stand by her side and touch her hair, hold her hand, and smell her perfume. He wanted her to want him to be there, but not because they were playing at romance to get another man’s attention.
He wanted her to be his.
But because of the convoluted way their friendship had grown, the physical affection they’d been sharing for more than a month, and too many other reasons to count, he still had no fucking idea whether she wanted that too.
Or whether the man she still wanted was Ted.
It was close to nine when he saw Gwen stepping out onto the terrace alone. She hadn’t signaled him, hadn’t made eye contact, just let herself out the back door.
He should leave her alone. Stay with his guests. He knew he should. But even as he thought it, he was excusing himself from the group, dodging past one friend and weaving around another. A moment later, he was closing the sliding glass door behind him.
Gwen was looking out over the back of his neighborhood. Her arms were crossed, her hands rubbing over them to keep warm.
“I brought you a coat,” he said, stepping close as he held it open for her. “I think yours is buried under about twenty others. So this is one of mine.” It was ridiculously big on her, but he couldn’t help liking the sight of her wrapped in something that belonged to him.
“Thank you,” she said, smiling over her shoulder at him. “It’s colder than it looks out here.”
“We could go inside.”
She shook her head. “It’s too pretty to go back in just yet.”
He turned her around and started buttoning up the oversize garment. He rolled one sleeve past her slender fingers, and then the other, taking more time and care than absolutely necessary, knowing it was just an excuse to touch her without actually touching her. To break the rules. But only a little.
She was right; it was a beautiful night. The city was covered in a thick blanket of white, and while the wind had died down midday, the snow had started falling again about an hour before. Beautiful. But all he could see was the woman in front of him, with the snow-kissed cheeks and frosted lashes.
“I didn’t mean to pull you away from the party,” she told him, gesturing to the sliding glass doors behind them and the party beyond.
He ought to go back inside. Talk to her tomorrow. But he didn’t.
“If I was into you, I’d have been waiting for an opportunity to get you alone.”
“Why?” she asked softly, her breath fogging the air between them in soft puffs.
Jesus, he knew better than this.
She blinked up at him, and when those whiskey eyes met his, the only thing he knew for certain was he couldn’t resist.
Chapter 9
If he was into her…
He was giving her the words that had been behind every other bit of feigned intimacy between them. But tonight, Ted wasn’t there. There was no one watching, no one to see. What Brody was showing her was for her and her alone. Gwen’s heart was racing.
This was what she wanted.
What she’d been telling herself not to hope for but couldn’t seem to stop wanting anyway.
“Brody.”
He closed his eyes, looking almost pained before meeting hers again. And when he did, he took her face in his big palms, cradling it with such tender care, it made her chest ache. Finally, he lowered his mouth to hers, and she shivered at the bliss of that perfect lingering press. The soft cling of their lips and the brief, torturous break in contact before he was back again.
This kiss bolder, more intense. More demanding.
His fingers slid into her hair, closing around it as he urged her to open beneath him. His tongue pushed past her lips, and she gasped, then moaned around him as he thrust inside, giving her his taste as he took her mouth.
It made her crazy.
Pulling at him, she tugged at his shirt, his shoulders, his neck as he kissed her harder, deeper. Angling their mouths one way and then fusing them another. Each claiming lick making her more desperate than the last.
A deep, rumbling groan sounded from low in his chest, and then the world spun. When her feet touched back down, her back was pressed into the brick at the far side of the terrace.
The way he was kissing her was like he couldn’t get enough. Like he didn’t know how to stop. Like maybe he’d been waiting as long as she had.
Those big hands were everywhere—in her hair, touching her face, sliding down her neck, and teasing her breasts. She was burning for him, mindless from his touch, his kiss. And when his hand found the back of her thigh, his fingers flexing once, she whimpered against his lips.
He swore and, cupping the back of her knee, brought her leg up along his until she was open to him.
Oh…God…yes.
With the snow falling around them, he kissed her again—slower, harder, filling her mouth in time with the slow rock of his hips.
Tension gathered low in her belly, heavy and warm.
Her heel hooked the back of his thigh, urging him closer—
“Gwe… Oh shit, I… Sorry.”
She jerked at the too-familiar, too-smooth, too-high voice coming fr
om way too close.
No.
He wasn’t supposed to be there.
In an instant, Brody had shifted so he was blocking her with his body. But not before she’d seen Ted ducking back inside. Ted.
Her stomach churned with the realization, This wasn’t what I thought. That perfect moment with the perfect man was just another perfect act.
Not real.
She’d thought Brody had come out to be with her, but he must’ve seen Ted arrive and known that he’d come looking for her. Brody hadn’t kissed her because he wanted her. He’d done it for the same reason he’d been doing everything else over the past month…to help her get Ted. A man she’d stopped wanting somewhere along the way.
Heat burned through her cheeks, and she turned away, pushing her dress back down her legs and using everything she had to fight the tears that wanted to come. He’d even warned her about what he was doing with that If I was into you talk…but she’d ignored it.
“Gwen, are you okay?” Brody asked from behind her, his voice strained and tight.
There was no way she was going to be able to hide that something was wrong. Off.
She cleared her throat and forced herself to turn around and face him. His expressive face was unreadable, his eyes shuttered.
“A little embarrassed, maybe,” she said, working to keep the outward evidence of that monumental understatement under wraps. “I mean, it was perfect timing, right? So, yay, us. But—”
“But it went too far.” He cleared his throat and took a step back, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I shouldn’t have let it.”
He’d been doing her a favor, because he thought she was his friend and not some psycho who was going to try to turn an arrangement with very specific rules into something it wasn’t.
She shook her head, struggling for something to say to minimize the damage. “We wanted to make it count. And if that wasn’t enough to do it, I’m not sure either of us is interested in whatever would.”
Brody laughed, but it sounded as strained as his voice, and she hated it.
“We should go in. Get you back to your party. Ted’s already seen us so…”
She closed her eyes, waiting, the part of her that never learned hoping Brody would tell her that he hadn’t known Ted was there. That what had happened between them was real, and he wanted her.
“Yeah, we’re good.”
And that confirmed it. She was doing the same thing with Brody she had with Ted. Shifting her attention from one unavailable man to the next. What was wrong with her?
* * *
Brody followed Gwen, stepping inside the doors just long enough to hear Ted crack the joke that he had to stop meeting Gwen like that. And then the guy was all with the apologies, holding up a bottle of wine in one hand and a small gift-wrapped present in the other as he spoke to Gwen in the kind of quiet tones that made it clear what he was saying was for her alone.
After what had happened outside, it was just as well. Brody had gone off script, big time. But when she’d looked up at him, the only thing that had mattered in that moment had been kissing her. And then kissing her deeper. Harder. Getting lost in the taste of her. In the feel of her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as she got lost in him too.
But that’s not what it had been.
She’d been playing along, following his lead. And thank fucking God, Ted had shown up when he had. Because how else was Brody supposed to explain his actions when she realized that kiss hadn’t been for anything or anyone except himself.
He was the worst kind of asshole.
Brody poured himself a few fingers of whiskey, tossing half of it back in one go as he watched Gwen step into Ted’s arms for a hug. A moment later, the guy was standing beside him.
“Sorry I missed the dinner. Everyone’s talking about how great it was.” Ted handed him a bottle of wine before returning his hands to his jeans pocket.
“No problem, man. Just glad you were able to make it.” Total lie. But really, what the hell else could he say? That he wished Ted was still stuck with his car in some snowdrift?
He nodded, glancing back toward where Gwen was talking with a couple of girls from the bar. “It’s just really cool of you to have us.”
Brody’s focus boomeranged back to Ted, who was staring him in the eye. Us? Yeah, that look alone said it hadn’t been an accident, and Brody understood Ted loud and clear. That possessive us was a statement. Fuck, it was a challenge… And it should’ve been exactly what Brody was waiting to hear. But it absolutely wasn’t.
Ted wanted Gwen, and despite having witnessed Brody all over her—or maybe because of it—he was more determined than ever to get her back.
Brody’s breath whistled out in a rush. It sucked being right sometimes.
Counting back from ten, he reminded himself of all the reasons this was a good thing. That Gwen was going to get what she wanted…and then, God willing, she was going to realize she didn’t want it anymore. Mission accomplished.
But in the end, what he said was, “Of course, man. You’re one of Gwen’s oldest friends, and any friend of Gwen’s is welcome here.”
Translation: It’s on.
If it took this pencil-neck dickweed seeing Gwen with another guy to come around, no way was Brody going to make it any easier for him than he had to.
They stood watching each other a moment longer, and Brody started to wonder if Ted was going to whip his dick out for comparison.
Ted would lose.
Fortunately, the noisy arrival of several more guests prevented the confrontation from coming to that, and when Brody found Ted again, he was back with Gwen.
An hour later, everyone was dancing and singing along with the music coming through his sound system, the fire was going strong, and by anyone else’s standard, the night would be considered a success. But there was no ignoring how badly he’d fucked up with Gwen. Even if she thought he’d known Ted was there, the way he’d kissed her—like he wasn’t going to stop until he’d heard her come apart for him—had gone too far. He’d taken too much. Touched her like she was his. When she wasn’t.
He’d forgotten the rules of the game.
Hell, he’d forgotten the game altogether.
And every time he’d tried to get close to her since, this fucking party had gotten in the way. He ought to be thrilled that she was laughing, having fun, surrounded by his friends and fitting in as seamlessly as she always did. But he couldn’t shake the sense of foreboding that had settled into his gut. He couldn’t stop searching for a moment when he might get her alone again and try to make things right.
And then his moment came. She was in the kitchen, stacking dishes on the side of the counter. Alone.
Cutting through the crowd, Brody made his way into the not nearly private enough space and came up beside her.
“Gwen, leave this stuff. Come back to the party and have some fun.” He wanted to reach for that bit of hair that had fallen over her shoulder, wind it around his finger, and give the loose coil a gentle tug. But suddenly, there was a divide between them that hadn’t been there before. And it felt like a divide he couldn’t, or maybe shouldn’t, cross.
“It’s no problem. I didn’t want to leave your kitchen looking like a train wreck after this was so nice tonight.” She rinsed another plate, adding it to the stack. Still not looking at him, and he felt his heart start to pound, because that wasn’t right. When she reached for another plate, he caught her wrist, pulling her around to meet his eyes. She was smiling up at him, but over the past months, he had become familiar enough with Gwen’s myriad smiles to recognize there was nothing real about this one.
He pulled her closer, needing to apologize. “Gwen.”
“Actually, I’m kind of exhausted and—”
“Gwennie, you ready?”
Brody closed his eyes in a plea for
patience. Fucking Ted. Again. How in the hell did this guy keep stumbling upon them at the worst times? But when Brody looked back to the doorway where the guy was standing, he realized Ted wasn’t just there to get Gwen to join in a game of cards or some quiet conversation. He was holding her coat over one arm, already wearing his own.
Brody’s head snapped back to Gwen. “You’re leaving?”
Her eyes skated away. “It’s been a long day, and if the roads are clear, we’ll be driving out early to get home.”
Bullshit. Everything she was saying might be true, but that didn’t change the fact that she wouldn’t be leaving, she wouldn’t be dodging his eyes like this if there wasn’t something more going on.
Dammit, why did he kiss her like that?
He needed to talk to her, make sure they were okay, but he could fucking feel Ted standing there in the doorway. Waiting and watching.
To hell with him.
“Are we… Are we okay?” Brody asked, lowering his voice though he was sure Ted could still hear it.
Gwen gave him one of those don’t be silly faces with a matching wave of her hand, but when her eyes caught his, she let out a quiet sigh. “Ted, could you give us a minute?”
The guy smiled wide, his eyes flicking to Brody’s before returning to hers. “You bet, Gwennie. I’ll meet you by the front door.”
And then he was gone. And it was just the two of them. But before he could open his mouth to let the apologies and explanations and lies—if that’s what it took—flow, Gwen had taken both of his hands in hers and was looking up into his eyes.
“We’re fine. Thank you for everything today. I had the best time. But this thing with Ted…” Her voice trailed off, and Brody’s breath caught in his lungs, holding while he waited for what she would say next. “I don’t think he needs any more convincing.”
Decoy Date Page 9