by Lexi Ryan
He skims his fingertips along my jaw and down my neck. He adds the pressure of his palm as he cups my breast through my dress. He brushes a thumb over one nipple then the other, and I gasp.
“Is this what you came here for?” he whispers in my ear. “Is this why you couldn’t marry him? Are you here because no one can get you off like I can? Had you forgotten that this body is mine? Had you forgotten what it was like to come so hard you scream?”
The rawness of his words startles me, and I still.
He tugs my earlobe between his teeth. “Don’t shut down. Don’t do that. Be here with me right now and tell me something you want from me. It can be anything, but I need to know.”
I love the feel of his mouth on my neck, his breath against my skin. I might just disintegrate under the heat of his touch, but I would do so happily.
“Right now,” he says. “Tell me what you want from me right in this moment, or I’m walking away.”
I take his hand and guide it underneath my dress to where I’m already hot and wet between my legs from nothing more than my fantasies of him.
“Fuck,” he murmurs. He rubs his fingers over me and lets his eyes float closed.
I arch into his touch, willing him to take it further, to make me feel, begging him with nothing more than the dance of my body under his touch.
He cups my ass with his big hand and lifts me enough to position one thick thigh between mine. His mouth skims over my neck, softly at first and then latching on and sucking as his fingers slide into me. I’m so close. I’m a live wire. All he has to do is stroke me just right, and I’ll fall apart.
“I can’t decide if you want me or if you’re angry with me,” I whisper, clinging to reason.
He drags a finger slowly in and out then plunges two back inside me, stretching me and filling me so completely it’s almost too much. “You say it like those two things are mutually exclusive. I fucking hate that you lied to me. I’m furious that you almost married someone else a week after being in bed with me. I hate that you never told me about him and that you thought a fake marriage was the best you could do. But right now, I want to feel you come more than I want to be angry.” He scrapes his teeth over my shoulder then soothes the spot with soft kisses. “Give this to me. Let me feel you come.”
Keegan wanting me is enough. For now. I let the rest drain away and focus on the heat of his hand between my legs. I focus on the way his touch makes it hard to focus on anything at all. His palm rubs my clit as his fingers stroke in and out, in and out, making my hips arch toward him as I whisper desperate little pleas. “Please, yes, please.”
“Please what?”
“Keegan.”
“Tell me you’re not going back to him,” he says into my ear. He steadies himself with one hand pressed against the freezer door by my head. “Fucking promise me that if I have to say goodbye to you again, it won’t be so you can become his wife.”
“It’s over.” I wrap my hand around his arm and cling to him. “I promise.” And with those words, he presses his mouth against mine, my body squeezes around his fingers, and I come.
“Keegan?” a woman says.
When I open my eyes, I realize Keegan still has his closed; his breathing is rapid and shallow just like mine. He slowly opens his eyes as he pulls his hand out from between my legs.
Bailey’s standing at the kitchen entrance, her back to us as if she knows she doesn’t want to witness our compromising position. She clears her throat. “Mia’s leaving and just wanted to confirm plans with you before she goes.”
“Be there in a minute,” Keegan says. His eyes search my face. “Are you okay?”
I nod. “Go ahead. I’m fine.” But when he steps away and leaves me alone in the kitchen, my legs are wobbly, my hands are shaking, and I feel anything but fine.
* * *
I find the employee bathroom off the back hallway, and when I return to the kitchen, Bailey’s pulling a rack of glasses from the dishwasher. She looks my way before quickly averting her gaze.
“You don’t like me, do you?” I ask Bailey when her back is to me.
I can’t see her expression, but her hands still where she was drying the top of the rack with a towel. “Should I?”
I draw back. “I know we didn’t have the easiest start, what with the weekend in Vegas and everything, but I know you’re important to Keegan and I think it’d be nice if we could be friends.”
Now she does turn around, and I’m surprised to see her smirking at me. “You have no idea what it’s like to have someone not like you, do you? You’ve never had this happen before.”
I scoff. “Obviously, you don’t read the papers. All sorts of people hate me.”
She shakes her head. “But not in real life. Not someone you’ve had to deal with every day. You’ve spent your entire life surrounded by people who either worship you or kiss your ass because they want something from you. And yet here I am, someone you have to interact with if you want to be around Keegan, and I’m not willing to do either. That must be really hard.”
I feel like I’ve been slapped. “You don’t know anything about what my life’s been like.”
Bailey shrugs and sighs as she drops her shoulders. “You’re right. I don’t know. But here’s what I do know: you were with my friend for one summer, and whatever happened between you two during that time was enough to screw him up, and you were with him in Vegas the weekend before you were supposed to get married to another man. Maybe I don’t know what happened between you two, but to me that’s irrelevant, because whatever it was screwed with his head. And I know that you’re here now, and you’re screwing with his head again.”
“Are you in love with him?” I ask.
She closes her eyes and mutters something under her breath that I think might be God grant me patience. “No. I’m not in love with Keegan. I wish I were. Wouldn’t it be nice to be with a guy that good? Good dad, good friend.” She looks me over and shakes her head. “He’s almost perfect if it weren’t for his fucking shitty taste in women.”
My eyes sting with tears. After all the things that have been said about me through the years, I don’t know why this comment from this woman hurts so much. Is she right? Have I never had to deal with someone disliking me whom I actually saw face to face? Can that be true? People dislike me for all kinds of reasons—for the advantages I was born into, for the things my mother has said over the years, even for things said by the character I played on television. I’ve had people write vicious lies about me in magazines, tear me down on the internet, and critique every inch of my body in the most mean-spirited way possible. Once, I was heading into a charity event and had a woman spit on me from behind the police barricade because her daughter had wanted to see the Lucy Matters reunion movie, and since I backed out, that would never happen.
But have I ever had to have someone in my life who didn’t like me and was willing to admit it to my face?
“You’re right,” I finally say.
Her attention is on the soapy water again, and when she turns to me, she’s frowning. “About what?”
“About me not being good enough for Keegan. I’m not. And I know I’m not. And five years ago, how much I fell short was so painfully clear to me that I pushed him away. I knew then that he deserved better, and I know now. The only difference is that now I’m going to let him make the choice.”
She dries her hands and studies me. The derision I saw on her face earlier fades away. “Okay,” she says. “I can respect that.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Keegan
“Emma!” Mia says.
When Em walks out of the kitchen, her lips are swollen and her cheeks are flushed. Anyone who looks at her could guess what we were doing back there. I have to take a deep breath, because she looks so fucking fine like that, and all I want to do right now is get her back to my place so we can finish what we started.
“I was just telling Keegan that we’re having a pool party at Arrow’s
dad’s tomorrow night. I hope you’ll come.”
Emma looks to me then back to Mia. “That would be fun. Thank you.”
“And then my wedding planner just needs to know if you’ll be joining us for the rehearsal Friday? I know the RSVP makes it sound formal, but I promise it’s not. It’ll be super fast. Easy breezy, I promise. We’re going to go to dinner afterward and hanging out. It’ll be a good time.”
Emma shakes her head. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“The more the merrier,” Bailey says, and I’m surprised when she smiles at Emma and adds, “Come.”
Mia grins. “Exactly! Come hang with us. Arrow said we should have just gone to Scotland and gotten married in the mountains or something, and maybe he was right, but I just wanted to keep it casual and still have all my favorite people there.”
Emma looks at me, and I nod. “She’ll be with me,” I say, and I realize that I hope it’s true. We were supposed to spend today together, but it’s been chaotic from start to finish. I want more time. I know this is temporary. I know we have too much unresolved shit for me to let my heart get involved. But for now, I just want to keep her close.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow and Friday,” Emma says to Mia.
* * *
Emma
Five years ago…
I pin my last curl and slide my pearl earrings into place. When I look at my reflection, I see everything my mother will see: cheeks that are too full, arms that are too soft, a chest that makes me look bigger than I am. (“Emmacakes, if you got a reduction, you might be able to pass for a twelve. Wouldn’t that feel good?”)
Tomorrow my mother is marrying the man who played my father on television for ten years, and the media is calling the match kismet and droning on about life imitating art. Personally, I keep wondering if she’d go through with it if she knew about me and Harry. About all those years of secrecy and the things he “taught me” off set. I keep wondering if she’d even care if I told her everything or if she’d just tell me I was missing my father and blame my story on an “overactive imagination.”
If I told her the truth, she might pull the jealousy card, but I feel nothing resembling jealousy. I just feel sick for her. Harry isn’t a good man. A good man wouldn’t have seduced a thirteen-year-old girl. He wouldn’t have manipulated her into doing things she wasn’t ready to do. He wouldn’t have fed her insecurities until she felt powerless to end a relationship that had her taking three showers a day until her doctor put her on Prozac for “obsessive-compulsive tendencies”—a diagnosis scribbled onto a prescription pad as casually as someone handing over Tylenol for a headache.
I feel sad for my mother, but ultimately this marriage is her choice to make, so I don’t let myself focus much on that. Every day it’s been harder and harder to push away this gnawing anxiety about Harry remaining in my life because of this marriage. It’s a reality I don’t let myself think about much. When I do, I want to crawl out of my own skin and I feel the old compulsions coming back—my daily shower becomes twice as long, my skin red from too much scrubbing when I turn off the water.
My time with Keegan is the only thing keeping me grounded. When I’m with him, I feel pure and whole and safe, like Harry exists in another solar system.
Keegan invited me to go to Indiana. He wants me there with him. I don’t know what terrifies me more: going with him, or staying here without him. I don’t know if I can go through college like a normal student. I don’t know if I can leave everything I know in LA behind. But I want to be with him more than I want anything else. I want this summer to be the beginning of something bigger with the first person whose love made me feel like more instead of less.
“What are you thinking about?” Keegan asks, stepping up behind me in the bathroom. He locks his gaze on mine in the mirror. “You’re standing there, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, but you’re looking at your reflection like you’re scared of it.”
My hand flutters to my chest, and I blink as my reflection seems to transform before my eyes from a catalogue of my faults to a highlight reel of what Keegan loves about me. My dress for tonight is a classic satin black A-line that hits me mid-calf. I’m not petite enough to feel like Audrey Hepburn dressed like this, so I hated myself in it, but through Keegan’s eyes I see a woman with curves that make him wild. I see the freckles he likes to trace with his rough fingertips when we have a lazy afternoon in bed. I see my bright blue eyes and the mouth he can’t stop staring at.
“I know you don’t want to go to this wedding tomorrow,” he says. “Is it weddings you hate or this particular one?”
I shake my head. “I love weddings.” It’s Harry I hate. I gasp at the thought. I’ve never allowed myself to think those words. Maybe it seemed too scary to direct hatred toward the only person before Keegan who showed me affection, as if I should be grateful for his attention, even if it was twisted and manipulative. “I’m just thinking about how strange it is to see my mother marry a man who’s not my father.” That’s true, even if it’s not the whole truth.
“What do you think of Harry?” His eyes seem to be asking more from that question than its face value. Or am I reading too much into it?
“I think he’s a flirt who loves women more than he loves keeping his promises.” I force a smile. “And I hope he makes her happy, but I’m not holding my breath.”
“It must be strange, having him as your stepfather when he played your father on television for so many years.”
Only because it’s a career I left to escape him. I shrug. “I suppose there are people who will remain in our lives no matter what.”
“He’ll be a fixture in yours now. I’m not sure how I feel about sharing you.”
“Then by all means, don’t.” I smile, but beneath it I’m scared Keegan has seen too much or knows me too well and suspects something between me and Harry. I don’t want him to know. I don’t want him to see me differently or know that I was too weak when I needed to be strong. Guilt and shame tangle in my chest, wrapping their tentacles around my lungs.
He spins me in his arms and cups my face in his hands. “You know I don’t deserve you, right?” He drags his gaze down my body and back up. “You’re sexy and sweet. You’re so fucking smart and you make me laugh.” He brushes his knuckles down the side of my neck. The tentacles loosen their grip on my lungs, and I draw in a full breath. “I need you to know I’m not good enough, but you have me anyway.” He dips his head to press a kiss to my bare shoulder. A flutter starts in my belly and radiates out through my fingertips. Air fills my lungs and washes away my fear. I love the way his touch makes me feel. “Have you thought any more about coming to Indiana with me?”
“I think we should talk about what that means.” I meet his eyes and feel nothing but warmth and courage. “I don’t want to do it if this isn’t going somewhere, Keegan, but I don’t want to make any assumptions, either. I know that’s a crazy thing to say when we’re so young, but as much as I love the idea of getting out of California, I do have a home here, and I don’t want to leave if—”
He crushes his mouth to mine. Keegan can give the softest, sweetest kisses, but this isn’t one. This kiss is him claiming me, and I want to give myself to him more than I want anything. I kiss him back hard—sucking on his bottom lip, twisting my hands into his hair.
When he draws back, he’s breathless and so am I. He darts out his tongue as he drags a thumb over my swollen lips. “I don’t want this to end,” he says. His voice vibrates with the intensity in his words. “I think about you all the time. I know you don’t want to leave your home and that the ocean is your favorite place, but that’s what you are to me. You are the sea breeze on a hot day.” He swallows hard. “You’re the morning sun off the water and the promise of a fresh start. You’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to home and the best thing that’s ever happened to me. If you stay with me, I’ll get you back to the sea after college. I promise you that. And I know that it’s insane to think tha
t a guy like me could have you—”
I hold my fingertips to his lips, and they’re shaking, but not from fear. I’m trembling with joy. “Don’t do that. Don’t do that guy like me thing. Don’t act like you’re not worthy of me.”
He shakes his head and pulls my hand away. “I’m not, Emma. I’m selfish and I’m greedy.” He swallows. “But I’m working on it. For you, I want to be better.”
“We both carry darkness in us. What if it drags us under?”
He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses my knuckles. “It’s nearly as powerful as what I feel for you. I don’t sit around thinking about weddings. But I do think about life with you and what that might look like. I’ve thought a time or two about you in a wedding dress with your blue stone in the hollow of your neck. If someday I get to be the man who unzips that dress, who leads you to his bed and gets to look at you wearing nothing but the sapphire that matches your eyes… So maybe I don’t have wedding plans, but when I say I want you to come with me to Indiana, I mean that I want you in my life permanently. I mean that I’m in love with you.”
I rise onto my toes and press my mouth to his. God, I want this. This man, this life he describes, the warmth I feel when I’m with him, so different from the twisted, used feeling I had with Harry that my mind rejects any comparison.
“I love you too,” I whisper. “I’ll go. I want to go.”
He meets my eyes and draws in a shaky breath. “I want to get you naked and make a mess of your hair so badly right now.”
I grin. “Later. I promise.” He groans, and I laugh. “But suddenly I’m in the mood to wear my sapphire. Would you go get it for me?”
His nostrils flare and he slides a hand under my skirt to cup my ass. “It’s going to be a long night,” he says, stroking the lace edge.
“Get my necklace and maybe I’ll give you something to hold you over until later.”
He arches a brow then rushes out of the bathroom. Five minutes ago, I was standing here filled with dread, but now I can’t stop smiling. “Where is it?” he asks.