“Wait! Your eggs will get cold!”
“I don’t eat eggs,” he said casually. “I use them for baking.”
“But—” I blinked. “Wait, you bake too?”
“I make a mean muffin.” He laughed. “Stop being so shocked I know how to do shit and eat a woman.”
With that, he walked off.
And I was left staring at my fluffy eggs, wondering why he would go to all that trouble.
For me.
I let out a pathetic sigh and kept eating.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
COLIN
I let the hot water pelt my back while I rested my hands against the tile.
I was an idiot.
I should take the day off.
Wine and dine her.
Seduce the hell out of her.
Force so much attention that she never wants to leave, brag about how much money I had, what I did, compliment her—hell, I could’ve done anything.
Instead, I made eggs.
Because I didn’t want to pressure her and I’d never done the whole Hey, we slept together without sex, wanna stay longer? A few hours? Days? Forever?
And I didn’t know where her head was at.
No fucking clue.
She looked lost.
Like she wasn’t sure if she should jump into my arms or off a cliff, like she didn’t trust me when I’d done nothing to prove myself untrustworthy. Except semibetray my best friend and my sister.
I groaned.
And of course sleeping with loads of other women at the same time.
But it’s not like I’d known her long enough to give her a reason to think I was a guy who could commit.
I knew how, damn it, I just never had a good enough reason.
Shit.
I was just ready to turn off the shower when I saw Blaire walk into the bathroom.
What the hell was she doing?
I watched.
Waited.
My breaths coming out faster as she walked toward the shower and stood in front of the glass.
“Enjoy your eggs?” I said in a low voice.
“Why did you make me eggs?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Answer the question.”
So I did. “Because I like you.”
“You like me?”
“I think you’re pretty . . . pretty girls get breakfast,” I teased.
She grinned at that.
“And maybe, just maybe, I figured, if I fed you—you’d stay,” I admitted.
She sucked in a sharp breath. “We both have work.”
“Then come back.” I didn’t mean for it to sound like I was pleading. But that’s exactly how it came out, like I was ready to get on my hands and knees in desperation.
Blaire didn’t answer right away.
After a few tense seconds, she pulled the T-shirt over her head, her full breasts moving as her arms tossed the shirt to the side.
I inhaled, exhaled, imagined my hands all over that body.
Hell, I was salivating.
She opened the glass door.
Took one step.
I jerked her against my chest, my mouth meeting her halfway.
She tasted like coffee.
She tasted like she was mine.
I slid my tongue past her lips as hot water cascaded over our bodies, I tugged her deeper into the shower, harder against me as steam billowed around us.
Blaire’s mouth broke away from mine.
I shook my head and took her mouth again, sucking her lips before kissing down her wet jaw. “Did you suddenly decide you were dirty?”
“Got egg on my arm.” She laughed.
“So naturally you needed to get naked immediately.”
“I knew you’d see my logic,” she teased right back.
“Any time”—I took her mouth and groaned when she gripped my hair with both hands, tugging so hard it was almost painful—“you want me to justify your nakedness, as long as it’s with me, I’m here for you.”
I hissed as she tugged my hair again, her hips pressed against me. I tried to control the pressure, the intensity, the need to fill her deep, hard, and fast. I was better at control than this.
Than this insanity taking over my body as my dick strained toward her like it had found its soul mate and was pissed at me for not recognizing the same thing.
Awareness washed over me as she released my hair and ran her hands softly down my back to grip my ass, tugging me against her.
“Fuck.” I cupped her with my hand and locked eyes with her. “Blaire . . .”
“Please.” She said it so softly I almost didn’t hear her.
I kissed her again, then pressed her against the shower wall, positioning myself between her thighs as her body sank onto me.
Her head fell back against the tile.
I clenched my teeth as I drove into her.
She held on to my shoulders with one hand, my hair with the other.
I slowed my thrusts and her body clenched around me.
“More,” she demanded.
I kissed her deeply, drinking her in. “You sure about that, Spy Girl?”
“Yes.” Her mouth met mine in a frenzy as I pulled her up, then down at a different angle. My name fell from her lips like a curse.
A dirty one.
I loved it.
“Warned you,” I said as we moved together.
“You should come with a warning.” Our heads touched.
“And you should just come—”
“Colin!
“I was going to say naked, come naked.”
She let out a whimper as I kissed her neck, sucked the space between her shoulder and collarbone, and then bit down as ecstasy washed over me at the tightening of her thighs, of her hands digging into my skin, and then that tight little body releasing, drugging me, making me swear to never let go.
I promise.
Her eyes opened. Locked onto mine. They had only questions.
Like mine held the answers.
So I kissed them away.
The talk she wanted to have.
The things she wanted to say.
The things she needed to hear.
And then I kissed her again and whispered, “Does that mean you’re coming back tonight?”
“Only if you have eggs,” she teased, short of breath.
“I’ll buy chickens so we have an unlimited supply.”
“I knew you were smart.”
“Despite the snake tattoo?”
“Pretty much.”
We were grinning at each other like it was our first time being naked ever. Like it was our first time having sex and we were giddy with the feel of another person’s skin against our own.
And I fucking loved it.
That being with Blaire felt like something new.
Like something great.
Chapter Thirty
BLAIRE
“You’ve been smiling at your computer for the past hour.” Isla’s voice interrupted my very vivid daydream of Colin’s shower.
Water running down his naked chest.
That. Ass.
Eggs.
My weird night.
“Huh?” I cleared my throat and went back to work. We’d acquired another client, an easy one—a husband thought his wife was cheating and not only had proof but had her schedule so I could tail her that night.
I yawned. “Sorry, just tired.”
“Right,” Isla said slowly. “You’re smiling at your computer like it gave you two orgasms because you’re tired, that makes total sense.”
Abby gasped from her desk.
I glared and grabbed another piece of licorice.
“How’d it go last night?” Isla asked casually.
“Huh? What? Last night?” I repeated. “Oh, you know, got more dirt on Jessie and um . . . watched Jimmy Fallon.”
“Me too.” Isla grinned. “I love watching him and Justin do the rapping thing, they killed that Iggy Azalea song, huh?�
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“Totally,” I agreed.
“Justin wasn’t on,” Isla said in a bored voice. “You’re lying, also I may have looked at Find My Friends and lo and behold, you went to a hotel . . .”
Abby’s eyes lit up.
Isla crossed her arms and waited.
Even Penny seemed to be judging me from her spot on the chair.
I bit my lip and then blurted, “I had sex in a swing!”
Abby’s eyes nearly popped out of her head, and Isla spewed coffee onto my desk.
“Okay, well, not in a swing, I mean not sex sex, we did things in the swing, and had sex this morning, and it was incredible and I really like him and—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Isla held up a hand. “You went back to his place? And hooked up?”
“It was his birthday?” I offered lamely.
“Birthday sex, birthday sex,” Isla rapped while tapping her pencil against her desk like she could actually sing.
I sighed then banged my head against the computer keyboard. “I’m an idiot! You don’t give away the milk for free! He’s a man whore and I . . . let him lick me!”
“Oh, details, please.” Isla leaned in.
“No.” I pouted. “I just . . .” I knew it was going to sound idiotic. “He made me eggs.”
Abby sighed. “That’s actually really sweet.”
“Snap out of it!” Isla slapped her hand on the desk. “So he made you eggs, did he promise anything besides food? Because from where I’m sitting it just looks like a one-night stand, which is totally fine, but you’re not really over—”
“Don’t.” I pointed a pen at her face. “Don’t go there.”
“Fine,” she huffed. “Look, I’m all about you having fun and doing things for you, yay, women! But I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I won’t,” I lied. “Besides, I know exactly the type of guy Colin is, he’s . . .” Did I? I fought to come up with an explanation because everything about him screamed commitmentphobe, from the multiple women to th-th-the eggs, oh God, really? I was fixating on the way he cooked breakfast? Why did that even matter? Why was I trying to find flaws in him? So he liked women. If he was such a catch, why wasn’t he married? Then again I could point that finger right back at myself. Oh hell.
I sighed, yet when I was with him, it’s like he let me see the parts that nobody else did. Was it an act? “He’s . . . something.”
“Wow.” Isla grinned. “The guy must be packing.”
She had no idea. I almost died midorgasm, but I wasn’t going to give details, it felt too personal, it felt like mine and his.
“Don’t worry about me, I’m a big girl,” I finally said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a stakeout I’m late for.”
“Go catch the bad guys!” Isla slapped my ass. “Or in this case, the bad girls.”
“Roar.” I winked and forced a smile at her and Abby before leaving for my car.
I double-checked that I had my duffel bag of tricks—if Colin ever got ahold of that bag he’d never let me live it down.
It was a true spy bag, complete with a special black light that illuminates certain bodily fluids.
I shuddered. I drove to the address on my phone and waited.
My phone lit up once I parked on the street.
Jessie.
My stomach clenched.
I read the text.
Jessie: What are you up to?
Me: Spying.
Jessie: Seriously?
Me: It’s my job.
How had this never come up in conversation? How had he never pressured me to tell him more about myself, about my life?
And then it hit me.
He never pressured me about my job, I evaded the question, and that was it.
He got my number.
He danced with me once.
He sent me funny texts.
He alluded to wanting more.
He never once pushed me in any area.
I frowned at the phone.
Me: Gotta go.
Jessie: Wait, have dinner with me tonight.
I wondered if he felt my disappointment. My boiling anger. I wondered if I didn’t have Colin if I’d be tempted to steal him away from a woman who, no matter what she’d done in her past, didn’t deserve to be cheated on.
Me: Let me get back to you.
I grabbed my binoculars and waited as a car pulled up to the curb two houses down.
The car was nice. Expensive. It looked like a new Tesla but I couldn’t make it out.
And then a woman stepped out with a man.
Bingo.
I grabbed my camera and went to town, making sure to switch lenses so I could focus in on the arm he put around her shoulders and the smile she gave him while they walked up to her home.
I set my phone to Facebook Live, all ready to press the button when, and if, it was time.
Time to film the cheater and whatever guy she’d been seeing.
They were together, his arm around her body.
I got a picture of the guy’s face.
And nearly dropped my camera on my lap.
Jessie?
JESSIE?
HOW MANY WOMEN WAS HE WITH?
I seriously almost hit the accelerator and went full speed toward them. Instead, I calmed myself down and choked him to death in my mind.
I angrily snapped the photo, sealing his fate.
And when he looked in my direction I wanted nothing more than to flip him off.
He didn’t look like he was trying to sneak around.
It’s the only thing that gave me pause.
Maybe he just was that confident he wouldn’t get caught.
I grabbed my phone and shot off a text.
Me: So what are you up to?
I watched the man in front of me grab his phone and text back, with the woman standing right next to him.
Jessie: Meeting with my lawyer.
I sucked in a breath.
Me: Finalizing everything, are you?
Jessie: It’s time.
I gritted my teeth and dropped the phone just as it rang, making me hide behind my steering wheel for some reason. When I glanced at my screen I exhaled in relief when I saw it was Colin.
I grabbed it and hissed, “What?”
“Why are you whisper-yelling?” He chuckled.
“I’m catching cheaters doing what they do best, cheating with pretty blondes who have fake boobs and a perfect smile, high enough stilettos to seriously maim someone, and lipstick that comes off on men’s collars. Why? What are you doing?”
Colin whistled. “Wow, bitter, table for two?”
“I’m not bitter, I’m just . . .” For some reason I felt like crying. Why was I getting emotional over this? I had no feelings for Jessie beyond anger.
The fantasy was already shattered.
What he’d represented.
The idea of the perfect man that I’d held on to for so long while I suffered with my husband.
Just. Gone.
Which only meant one thing.
Colin would be the same.
They were all the same, weren’t they?
“Blaire?” He sounded concerned. “You got all quiet on me, which freaks me out more than when you talk really fast and sound like you’re ready to taze someone.”
I choked back tears. “Sorry, weird day.”
“It started good though.”
I smiled sadly. “Yeah, it did.”
“What time are you coming over?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
Colin sighed. “You are still coming over, right?”
“I, uh . . .” I shook my head. “I have to go, I’ll call you.”
Tears cascaded down my cheeks as I pulled away from the curb and drove back to the office.
Evidence in hand.
For two clients.
One whose face I never wanted to see, and couldn’t completely make out in the stupid pictures I’d taken.
And another I used to fantasize about when I contemplated my failed marriage.
One giant payday.
So why didn’t I feel better about it?
Chapter Thirty-One
JESSIE
“Hey, have you heard from Blaire?” I was meeting Colin for happy hour, but the guy was anything but happy, he kept staring into his Manhattan like it was going to give him the answers to the universe, and when I mentioned Blaire, he sank into his chair. “Colin?”
“What?” he snapped.
“Whoa.” I held up my hands. “Rough day managing your millions?”
He snorted like he was disgusted with me and then leaned forward. “Are you cheating on Vanessa? Be honest.”
“We’ve been over this, man. I’m not cheating, not that it would matter since we’re legally separated.” I rolled my eyes. “Besides, you know how it’s been, ever since . . .”
“That’s just it.” He slammed his hand on the table. “You’re still legally separated, you’re still stuck in this weird limbo shit, and you’re making it harder on her by allowing her to have hope.”
Guilt gnawed. “You know why I do . . .”
“It’s not your fault.”
“It’s not yours either.”
He scowled. “And yet we make it ours, right?”
Damn it. What the hell was wrong with him? “So, Blaire?”
“Stay away from Blaire,” he snapped.
I blinked, then blinked again. I’d known him my entire life and not once had he so much as raised his voice in my direction.
He always claimed he was a lover, not a fighter.
But the way he was gripping his glass.
His fingers paling.
He was exceptionally pissed.
My eyes narrowed. “What the hell, man?”
“At least until you’re separated.”
“Is this about Blaire or Vanessa?”
He groaned into his hands. “I think I messed up.”
“With who?”
“Doesn’t matter, not anymore. She’s pushing me away and I’m letting her because I’m afraid to push back, it blows.” He finished his drink and slammed the glass down.
“I’ve never known you to be a quitter.” I shrugged. “Especially when it comes to someone you like—so why not try?”
He smirked like there was an inside joke I was missing. “If you knew, you probably wouldn’t be saying that.”
The guy was either drunk or losing it. “I’m your best friend, of course I’d say that. No matter who this woman is, you’ve got a lot to give, and if she’s tempting you to finally settle down . . . why not go for broke?”
Dirty Exes (Liars, Inc. Book 1) Page 17