by Kenya Wright
Well, too bad. If you’re the Ashley in Tyson’s notebook, then we need to talk soon. I don’t care where you’ve run off too.
I grabbed my keys and headed out the door.
I spotted Tyson far across the street, still on the phone, but now pacing and yelling into it.
Wrong number, my behind.
Logan sat in his Bugatti, staring at Tyson with concern on his face. I decided not to say goodbye to Tyson, hopped in Logan’s car, and set my handbag on the floor, stuffed with all of Tyson’s notebooks. I wouldn’t only be reading the Kingmaker this evening, I’d be learning about the real Tyson, not the fake one he’d been presenting to me in the last three months.
“Ashley lets me do anything to her. At this point, I’m wondering if I can break her...”
Logan didn’t start the car. Instead, he gestured to Tyson. “Who’s he talking to?”
“I have no idea.” I grabbed the coffee from the holder on my door. “Thank you for breakfast.”
Logan drank me in with those gorgeous blue eyes, letting his gaze slip all over me. His smile deepened.
Why must he be so damn good-looking?
Soothing ocean blue eyes—not icy or cold, but welcoming. So damn welcoming. He studied me with those eyes, inciting warmth along my cheeks.
“You look amazing today.” His voice was deep, husky, sexy as fuck if I let myself swim in its soothing rhythm. “Has anyone told you how beautiful you look today?”
I held back my grin. “Stop flirting.”
“I can’t help it.”
“I know. It’s just your natural state.”
He stared at my shirt. My nipples hardened, but in defense his air conditioner was on blast and...damn it. No woman could not get aroused from Logan’s attention.
“You should probably change,” he studied my top. “I’ll have to fight off all the geeky boys away from you today.”
“You like it? I made this myself.” I’d cut scenes from other Kingmaker shirts and taken weeks hand-sewing them into a jean halter top. It didn’t push my breasts up in my face or ooze too much sex, but it showed off my arms and was a cool way to display my love for Mulligan.
“That top is everything. The only improvement would be no pants.”
I quirked my eyebrows. “What?”
“I mean...you would...wear shorts or something.”
“Shorts or something?” I grinned.
“Ignore me.” He glanced over his shoulder at Tyson, still pacing and arguing on the phone.
“Is he coming with us?” Logan asked and turned back to me.
“No. He’s staying.”
“Too bad.” A wicked smile spread across his face as he hit me with a heated gaze. “So, I have you all to myself this morning?”
Warmth spread across me.
Logan loved being naughty, but he always respected my relationship with Tyson, only keeping it to flirting and nothing else. Tyson thought we spent too much time together. Meanwhile, Tyson also stayed busy and away to the point where Logan was always with me.
I waved Logan’s flirty comment away. “I thought we were in a hurry, Mr. Logan. Why are we not speeding to the store?”
“You’re right.”
And then we zoomed off.
“Damn, Logan.” I hurried and put on my seatbelt. “Can you stick with the speed limit?”
“They said on the radio that three stores have already sold out. They were the few that opened early.”
“Oh shit. Well then, speed on and try not to get us killed.”
“I’ll try.” He formed his lips into a smile.
And I did my best to not melt in my panties.
I also battled with not staring at him. After a few blocks, I glanced his way and caught him studying my halter top.
I blushed. “I usually find that it’s helpful to look in front when I’m driving. Maybe you should look forward too.”
“Then maybe you should’ve worn something else.”
“Are you saying that my clothes are distracting you from driving?”
He only grunted and returned to staring out the window. “So, are you going to tell me what’s bugging you this morning?”
“What? Nothing’s bugging me.” I sipped my coffee, relishing in the sweetness. Logan had added the right amount of Splenda and cream. Not even my brother could get my coffee right and we’d spent the most time together in my life.
Maybe Logan and I do hang out too much. Oh, it’s no big deal. We’re just friends, nothing more.
Meanwhile, I still had Tyson’s notebooks in my bag. He didn’t even say he was truly fucking someone named Ashley, but it was obvious that he had to be talking about that. I thought about the lines that I’d read.
July 4th
I don’t know when the games stared. I just know I can’t stop. Ashley lets me do anything to her. At this point, I’m wondering if I can break her.
We’d all hung out last July 4th almost four months ago. Their friend, Karan was hosting his family who’d came to visit him from India. Therefore, it was only Logan, Ashley, Tyson, and me. Logan and Ashley never really messed around. I’d thought they’d hit if off the night we all met in the bar, but Ashley told me Logan had just dropped her off at her place and said nothing. I was shocked they didn’t hook up. Apparently, the only time Ashley even talked to Logan was when he came around us. They hadn’t even exchanged phone numbers.
Regardless, we’d got on Logan’s yacht that July fourth and hung out on the water. Logan had cooked steaks while Ashley and I swam.
Tyson spent the day gazing at us.
I remembered there was a moment where Logan and Tyson argued about something, but I was so drunk. Later, I’d grabbed them both by the hands because the fireworks were starting.
By then, it was just Logan, Tyson, and me. Ashley had taken a nap in one of the yacht’s cabins. With three glasses of champagne in our hands, we’d toasted and watched the fireworks blaze in and paint the sky.
What else happened that July 4th?
I scanned my mind for more of that night.
Tyson had gotten bored with the fireworks and went to check on Ashley.
Logan and I ended up watching the rest of the show, drunkenly bringing up memories of our craziest July 4th’s and the embarrassing things we’d done. I’d had my first kiss long ago on an Independence Day. He’d been a neighbor boy with freckles and braces that cut my tongue as I stuffed it in his mouth, doing my best to mimic the women on soap operas. I’d spent that evening as a kid nursing a bruised tongue.
Logan had topped me with his story. One July Fourth, he’d gone on his first date at fourteen and, thinking he could impress her, he’d stuffed three thick socks in his underwear to show off a bulge. He was supposed to take her to a beach picnic where the fireworks would be shown at sunset. Apparently, some of his sisters had been out there too, but promised not to mess it up.
So, with three socks stuffed in front of his groin, he’d gotten her attention. He’d also gotten the rest of the beach’s attention too, including his sisters who pointed out for everyone to see and laughed, falling to the sand. His mother ended up stopping the craziness and taking the girl home. Too embarrassed, he had to stay at the beach with his sisters and watch the fireworks.
Yes. July fourth. That’s right. Logan and I cracked up telling each other stories. And then I fell asleep...in Logan’s arms...oh shit, that’s why I pushed that memory away.
I’d felt guilty about it when I woke up. His arms felt too good, too warm. And when I opened my eyes, he was gazing down at me, and it didn’t look brotherly or friendly at all. He’d even leaned forward a half an inch as if daring me...tempting me...to come close.
I’d blinked, cleared my throat, left his arms, and went to find Tyson who had fell asleep in another cabin and was snoring.
Logan and I never talked about that moment.
And thankfully, Tyson never wondered about when I’d returned.
So, what happened? Tyson had gone dow
n to the cabin to fall asleep, so did Ashley. That’s an interesting coincidence. Granted, I was too busy in Logan’s arms to notice. What a mixed-up group of people we are.
I let out a long breath.
Logan pulled my attention back into the present. “What’s going on, Mia?”
I sipped some more of my coffee. “I’m just thinking.”
“About what?” He slid to one lane and swerved into another, with pure precision, but still scary nonetheless.
“You could’ve been a stunt driver. You’re reckless with your driving, but in a very James Bondian smooth way.”
“You’re changing the topic.”
“Because I don’t want to talk about what I’m thinking about.”
“Why not?”
I chewed the inside of my cheek a little and then confessed, “It’s about your friend.”
“Tell me. You know I keep secrets.”
I smirked. “How would I know?”
“Does this face look like it’s a tattle teller?”
“No.”
His face said many things—slide your pussy on it, suck on my lips, worship my cheekbones, fuck me so you’re offspring will look this gorgeous—but it didn’t say tattle teller.
His voice held an edge as he said the next words. “Is there something going on with Tyson and you?”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to bring you into it.”
“Why not?”
“He’s your friend.”
“You’re my friend too. What’s up?” His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “What did he do?”
I waited for a few seconds and just said it. “I think he’s cheating.”
Anger filled his eyes as he said nothing and sped up.
O-kay. Why is he so pissed?
I gripped the edge of my seat.
And then he said in a low voice, “You’re kidding me, right?”
“No, and I think...” I sighed. “I think he might be cheating with Ashley.”
“Well...if that’s true, I’m going kill him.” Logan whipped us off the highway and zipped us down the street. And on his face was anything but sweet or gentle.
Chapter 3
Logan
Tyson’s cheating? It better be a lie. Tyson fought me for her. He made a big fucking deal about it, and then all that and he doesn’t treat her right. Bullshit.
After meeting her in the club, I thought Mia would no longer be in my mind, but she stayed there, right in the corners. I couldn’t get her out of my head. I thought about her constantly and hanging out with Tyson didn’t help. He’d become even more interested in her too. When I invited Tyson somewhere, he brought Mia along as if rubbing the shit in my face.
But there was no way he could’ve known how much she affected me. I doubt she even knew. In these past three months, I’d learned to hide it well, but there was no denying it.
Mia was the one that I yearned to taste. She was a fine wine, rare and expensive. And I longed to sip on her for days, get intoxicated, licking the rim and drinking too much until I passed out from her.
A month after they started dating, Tyson asked her to be exclusive and committed. It was a blow to my heart, but there was nothing I could say. I’d just ended up falling for my best friend’s girl. And the thought of Tyson’s hands all over Mia was something I couldn’t deal with.
That filthy bastard.
My sisters had even met Mia a few times and loved her. Celia had started calling Mia when she had her guy problems. I considered paying Mia for freeing me up from the torture. The twins and Mia loved this band called Skull Crash and went to a club at least once a month to see them play. Mia and Patricia traded romance novels every other week. At times, Patricia asked me to deliver paperbacks to Mia and I jumped at the chances. And then there was Monica—the baby—who followed Mia around anytime we were all at a party or event together, always asking her questions.
My sisters loved Mia, and it aggravated the shit out of me. Finally, I had a woman around that my sisters liked, but she was off limits and with Tyson. All I could do was be respectful, move on, and try my best not to stare at her.
But she was hard to resist. As Tyson and I became distant in our friendship, I considered screwing the limits altogether and just making a pass at Mia.
Any other women qualified as fair game, whereas Mia was my best friend’s girlfriend and slowly becoming my best friend. Mia trusted me. And despite the way my cock jumped up at the thought of doing wicked things with her in bed, I knew it couldn’t happen.
How could you have cheated on her, Tyson? Why get her to be exclusive if you didn’t want to be faithful?
Still speeding toward the bookstore, I gripped the steering wheel tighter and asked, “How long do you think Tyson has been cheating?”
Mia ran her fingers through her hair. “I’m not sure, but I think it started around July fourth.”
My voice was a low growl. “What?”
“Yeah, but I don’t know for sure.”
July fourth? No fucking way. We were all together and...then it was...a weird night.
Tyson had made a good show of being sweet in front of Mia, but there were odd things he said when she wasn’t around. Shit that ended up causing us to fight. In fact, that day was when our friendship decreased in value. After July fourth, we didn’t talk much and barely met up at the gym.
But on the Fourth, Tyson and I had stood on my yacht, drinking beers, and watching Mia and Ashley swim in the ocean around us.
“Mia, should get out of the sun.” Tyson had taken a chug from his beer. “She’ll be as black as coal by tonight.”
“What? She’s having fun.” I flipped the steaks over. “And...she looks damn good. I’m still pissed that you pushed me out of the way.”
“And you’re going to remind me of that for the rest of my life.” Tyson laughed. “At what point are you going to stop bringing it up? When Mia and my kids go to college?”
I was drunk and so that question annoyed the shit out of me. I hadn’t thought about Mia and him going any further than a few months. I was suddenly realizing what I’d gotten myself into. What if they stayed together forever? What if they married and had kids? Would I stop lusting after her? Would I finally be able to push her out of my head to the point where I was no longer stroking my cock to the mental image of her—naked and bouncing on top of me?
“You’re looking pissed over there, man.” Tyson reached into the cooler. “Here’s a beer. I’m just fucking with you.”
“So, you’re not thinking of marriage?” I asked.
“Shit. I don’t know. Mia would be a decent wife. She hasn’t let me fuck yet, but I bet she knows what she’s doing. Those fucking tits, man. And that ass. Shit. I would marry her.”
I twisted off the top and stared at Mia as she splashed water on Ashley. Those breasts were wet and jiggling, so big they would spill out of my hands. And that ass could feed my libido for days. But it wasn’t her body that had me twisted. Mia made me crazy from her conversation, always making me laugh, always putting me onto some fun movie or show that was entertaining yet changed the way I saw life.
Mia was more than those beautiful big breasts and that lovely fat ass.
Yet, Tyson continued, “Maybe, we could marry. Mia just has to get out of that back to Africa shit she does sometimes. Like the braids she has on today. They’re okay, but it makes her look ghetto, and she’s not even from the hood. I like her when she has her hair together and looks more—”
I waved his stupid comments away. “She looks gorgeous. I like the braids.”
“What the fuck would you know?”
“I know what I like.”
“Whatever, man. Those braids make her look ghetto as fuck.” Tyson chuckled, finished his beer, crushed the can, and slung it in the wastebasket next to him. “She’s three plaits away from looking like one of those African chicks in a hut with mud on them.”
I frowned. “I don’t get it.”
“Whatever, man.
Oh yeah.” He pulled out his phone. “Check this shit out.” He glanced to make sure Ashley and Mia weren’t looking, turned on the phone’s screen, and swiped to his photo gallery. “Look at those tits, man.”
On the video, Mia lay on his couch, asleep. All I could see was her. Dim lighting bathed her. The low sound of a television played in the background as if she’d fallen asleep watching something with him. Tyson must’ve been holding the phone in front of her. And then his hands appeared at the edge of her shirt, slowly yanking it down to not wake her, but filming the top of her cleavage.
I looked away as the shirt continued to lower. “What the fuck, man?”
“Wait. This isn’t even the good part.” He tried to swipe further. I saw a nipple and out of nowhere, I hit him.
He fell to the ground and held his jaw. “Yo!”
I stared at my hands. “I...I’m sorry.”
“Lay off the fucking beer, man, and calm the fuck down.”
“I’m sorry.” I tried to help him up. “I just don’t want to see that shit. In fact, you shouldn’t be doing that shit—”
“Mia is not your fucking sister, man.” He shoved my hand away and stormed off.
That was the last time we’d really talked. The girls had gotten back on the boat due to the short commotion. Clearly, we didn’t tell them about it, and being that we were on the water miles away from shore, Tyson and I couldn’t escape each other. Still, we kept our distance.
I’d been a bit annoyed the rest of the night as Logan rubbed his hands through Mia’s braids and whispered how beautiful she looked. I was damn near close to hitting him again, but I had to stay out of it.
Because truthfully, I didn’t know if I was just pissed about the invasive video or if it was jealousy too.
And now Mia is telling me months later that he’s cheating? No.
I shoved the memory of July fourth out of my head and returned to driving Mia and me to the bookstore. Minutes later, we arrived, and I pulled into the shopping center’s large parking garage.