by Willow Aster
I adjust myself beneath the booth as my cock is threatening to burst through the zipper and denim.
“It’s a curse, Queenie.”
“Do not call me that. I really will hurt you.”
My attraction to this woman is something I’ve never allowed myself to dwell on before, and alarm bells are going off. I’m torn between leaning over this booth and claiming her sassy mouth, and running out the door and never looking back.
For starters, she hates my ass more often than she tolerates it. She’s not someone I can just bang casually, because she’s Mya’s best friend. And the last time I kissed her, she iced me out for just short of a year.
Not going down that road again.
She’s not interested.
But fuck if I’m not at war with the giant lightning rod in my pants who’s suddenly dying to come out and play.
Playing with fire has never been my thing.
Emma Kingsley is definitely fire.
And I like to think I’m smart enough to avoid getting burned.
Chapter Ten
Emma
I’ve squeezed my thighs together more times than I can count in the past fifteen minutes. I hate the way my body reacts to this man. Being this close to him.
I despise it.
I’ve never felt more out of control than I feel around Spence Taylor. And the fact that he’s being nice to me has my hormones on overdrive.
It’s cold as hell and we’ve just started walking back toward my place.
“Was it fun growing up in a big family? I always wondered what it would be like.”
He chuckles. “Yeah. It’s constant entertainment,” he says, and his voice is gruff. Sexy.
“And you’re the oldest, so that’s probably where you get your bossiness from, right?”
He levels me with a look and I smirk.
“I’ve always looked out for my siblings as much as I can.”
“They’re lucky to have you,” I say, as we pass a couple on the street walking hand in hand. The sidewalk is sparse as it’s getting late, but cars continue to honk and hustle past us. This city never really sleeps. There’s always something going on, and I’ve always loved the energy that I feel here.
“I’m actually the lucky one,” he says, and I see a brief humility cross his face that I don’t see often. “How about you? Only child?”
“Yep. Mya’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a sister.”
He nods as we come to a stop at the stairs leading to my apartment.
“That must have been lonely at times?” he asks.
“Not really. I grew up at the auto shop with all the guys. And my dad and I were always together.”
“I used to wish to be an only child when those assholes were getting in my shit and narking on me when we were young. I’m sure there are benefits to not dealing with that,” he says with a note of humor in his voice, and he moves closer.
Invading my space.
The smell of mint and sexy Solemn is almost more than I can take. I’m standing on the bottom step, which allows me to be eye level with him. He’s so handsome and I suddenly have an urge to run my hands through his dark, thick hair. To feel the stubble as I trace his jaw with my fingertips.
I lunge forward before I can stop myself, and my lips crash into his.
Wanting.
Needing.
Like a freaking cat in heat.
I’ve never felt so out of control in my entire life, and I’m no longer driving this ship. I’ve always been the captain of all things, but right now, my desire for Spence Taylor is an unstoppable force.
His fingers tug my hair and his other hand squeezes my waist. His tongue slips in, doing a slow dance with mine. This is much gentler than the first time we kissed.
This is soft and sweet and curious.
His lips feel so good against mine that I couldn’t stop if I wanted to. My hands are exploring his big, strong shoulders over his coat and I suddenly want to strip him bare. Feel his skin against mine.
He groans into my mouth before pulling away, and it’s like someone just cut off the oxygen to my airways. I gasp and search his gaze in the dim lighting from the streetlight that stands a few feet away from us.
“Do you think this is a good idea?” he asks, his ocean eyes piercing mine.
The question is like a huge ice-cold glass of water dousing the building flames.
“What?” I ask, my breaths are coming hard and fast. “It’s fine. We can pretend it didn’t happen tomorrow and go back to hating one another.”
“Maybe I don’t want to hate you.”
I shake my head. Where is this coming from? What is he saying?
I tug on his coat and pull him closer. “Come on. We’ll go back to normal tomorrow.”
I hate how desperate my voice sounds. But I need this like I need my next breath. Just for tonight. This can’t go anywhere. I don’t do any of that emotional hostage relationship garbage. No thanks. I’ve already crossed a line with this man and we’ve entered a gray area.
I only do gray areas when talking about the law … and Mya and Jesse when they were struggling.
I have different boundaries for myself. I don’t do gray with my relationships. Ever.
He’s dangerous. A disaster waiting to happen. But I do want him, just for one night.
Right now.
I lean forward and kiss him again. Desperate to get lost in the moment.
Stop thinking and just go with it, jackass.
He pulls back, his gaze hard. “I think we should call it a night.”
He may as well have slapped me in the face. I shrink back.
Men don’t reject me. It’s never happened. And I’m especially stunned because what I’m offering is a no-strings-attached, pretend-it-never-happened night of pleasure.
And he doesn’t want it.
He doesn’t want me.
“Why?” I want to curl up in a ball and hide because I sound like a wounded child. I am not this person. I don’t make myself small because a man doesn’t want me. But I need an answer.
“I don’t want you to hate me tomorrow. We’ve already done that. Remember? You’re just now talking to me again after—” He pauses like he’s waiting for me to stop him because up until now I’ve never let him fully talk about the night in the elevator. I’ve thought about it.
Way too often.
Which is why it’s a non-topic.
“If you want to give this a chance, out in the open—call me,” he says.
What the actual hell?
What man doesn’t want a night of guilt-free sex? Uncomplicated. Unemotional. Simply physical.
What he’s suggesting is impossible. Messy.
I don’t do messy any more than I do gray areas.
Looks like I won’t be doing Spence Taylor either.
The man has suddenly grown a conscience, or it’s just his excuse to get away from me.
Oh my God. What if he isn’t attracted to me in that way? Nothing else makes sense. He hasn’t had a relationship since I’ve known him. So why would he suddenly have rules with me?
This is a freaking pity rejection.
I’m the girl whose mom left her. He feels sorry for me. He doesn’t have the heart to tell me that he doesn’t want me either. This is why I never should have told him about my mother.
“Fuck you, Old Solemn,” I hiss.
“I think you’d like to.” He looks wounded. He isn’t the one getting rejected. This is why I need to steer clear of this man. He infuriates me and is way too dangerous.
“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m still hungover from last night and not myself. This never happened.” I turn on my heels and fumble for my keys, anger taking over.
“Exactly why I’m leaving.”
I don’t respond. He’s playing head games and I’m tapping out. He’s always messing with me. I should have known better. This was all an act to get me to put my guard down.
It won’t happen again.
If I had to choose my favorite night of the week, it would be Real Housewives night with Mya. But the fact that we are on our way to Yaya’s and Bernard will be joining us is almost too good.
Great food. Lots of laughs. And all the Salt Lake City drama one can handle.
“I’m excited to meet Bernard. I can’t believe I still haven’t. This will be so fun,” Mya says. “And they’re both caught up on the season?”
What can I say? My girl takes her reality TV very seriously. It’s our one guilty pastime.
Well, that and cocktails at Mean Mug.
And Yaya’s pasta.
And Ben & Jerry’s Peanut Butter Cup ice cream.
Okay, we have a few. I never would have guessed myself a Bravo groupie, but here I am. I’m so deep in this drama I could give Andy Cohen a run for his money.
“Yes.” I nod emphatically. “Trust. They love the Salt Lake City ladies as much as we do.”
“There’s more drama in this hour than we get all week.” Mya laughs as we knock on Yaya’s front door.
“Hello, beautiful ladies,” Bernard sings, as he tugs the door open and bats his lashes at us. He’s wearing a black turtleneck and black dress pants. His standard uniform. The man was born and raised in New York City and he is Yaya’s oldest friend and longest-standing relationship.
“Bernard,” I say, before falling into his arms. “This is my bestie, Mya.”
“Yes, come here, gorgeous. It is about time I meet you. It seemed like the gods were conspiring against us for a while there. I think the last time we were supposed to meet, I had to go out of town to help my sister recover from her bunion surgery.” He grimaces while opening his arms wide and Mya giggles as she steps into his embrace. “I want to hear all about this delicious man of yours. Yaya tells me he’s quite the looker.”
We make our way down the hall and into the living room, just as my grandmother steps out of the kitchen with a steaming hot bowl of pasta.
Penne Ala Vodka. My all-time favorite. The smell of garlic and basil and lemons is divine.
Home.
This is the scent that I crave. It’s comfort and safety and love.
“I set us up at the coffee table because the show’s about to start.”
Mya, Yaya, and I drop down to sit on the couch and Bernard takes the chair beside us.
“Do you think Jen Shah is going to kick some ass tonight?” he asks.
“If she does, I’m disengaging,” Mya says, doing her best Meredith Marks impression, and I snort.
“Yes, nailed it. She’s my favorite too. But Heather and Whitney are a close second,” Bernard says, holding up his wine glass. “Cheers to dinner with the most beautiful women in our great city.”
“I’ll drink to that all day long,” Yaya says and we all laugh. “Before the show starts, tell me what’s happening? How’s that beautiful specimen of yours?” Yaya wriggles her brows at Mya.
“He’s great. I would love for you to meet him.”
“Oh yes, I can’t wait to meet Hot Hair,” Yaya says over a giggle. “Doesn’t he have all those brothers? Can’t you fix our girl up with one of them?”
My heart starts to race at the mention of his brothers.
Spence.
I made a conscious decision last night to wash my hands of that man completely. That was the one and only time he’d ever get to reject me. I wasn’t myself. It won’t happen again.
“I wish. But she’s just friends with Gus and Caden and says she doesn’t look at them like that,” my best friend says, as she forks a bite of pasta and groans after she slips it into her mouth.
“Aren’t there three brothers?” Yaya presses, because the woman never misses a beat.
“Three brothers. That sounds like a whole lot of men. Are they all straight?” Bernard asks, as he places some salad on his plate and we all laugh.
“Oh, hush yourself. They’re all straight and far too young for you, dirty bird. Now, what about the third brother?” Yaya asks.
She’s a dog with a bone at all times. Most especially when it comes to men.
“Em hates Spence. That one is out of the question. But she has a date this week with a firefighter,” Mya says, and her lips turn up in the corners as she beams at my grandmother and Bernard.
I growl. She knows I don’t want her giving Yaya any information because the woman will never let it go.
And the mention of Spence has me on edge. He’s the reason I went back on my dating app this morning and accepted a date from Rocco. He’s a NYC firefighter. Does it get any hotter than that?
I mean, probably in the fires that he puts out, bless him, but you know what I’m saying.
“Why do you hate Spence?” Yaya asks. “And why have I never heard you mention that one?”
I knew it. The woman can sniff out a turd in a flower garden.
“Because he’s the devil in dark jeans and a sports coat. He’s arrogant, pretentious, and grumpy. I can’t stand him.” I wave my hands in front of my face and they all laugh. “Let’s focus on the hot firefighter named Rocco.”
“Ohhhh … Rocco. That sounds promising. And it sounds like bronco, which you can ride off into the sunset,” Yaya says, as she claps her hands together.
“Or a bronco she can ride in the bedroom. That sounds far more promising. I need a bronco of my own.” Bernard sets his wine glass down and reaches for the bottle to refill all of our glasses as laughter bounces off the walls.
“No one is riding anyone anywhere. It’s dinner. He’s asked me out before, but I kept declining. I guess I’m ready to get back out there.”
Spence Taylor has been in my head for longer than I’d like to admit, and it’s time to get him out of there. To cleanse myself of him once and for all. No more fantasies. No more flirtatious banter.
See ya, asshole.
“I’m so excited for you to finally go out with him. He’s really gorgeous. He was Mister October for his firehouse,” Mya says proudly. As if she needs to sell these two horndogs on my date.
“Ohhhh, I want to see. Does he have the six-pack abs and that V thing that leads down to the Holy Land?” Yaya says.
“I love me a deep V. Hell, I lost mine two decades ago. Now I’m more like a soft M.” Bernard shakes his head and I cover my mouth to contain my laughter.
This is exactly what I needed. And I have dinner tomorrow with my mother, which I am intentionally not sharing with my grandmother. She hates the woman with a red-hot passion. And then a date with Rocco the following night.
Life is good.
The ladies of Salt Lake City don the screen and we are wide-eyed with our jaws on the floor for the next hour. You couldn’t make this shit up—it’s that good.
Meltdowns, sexually-charged parties, pole dancing, plastic surgery, and lots of tequila. Troubled relationships and beauty squads fit for royalty. This show brings it all and I love every second of the train wreck.
We are still laughing after we say our goodbyes and make our way down the street. It’s a chilly October evening, our bellies are full, and I’m ready for sleep after the two glasses of wine.
“I love Yaya so much. And Bernard is the absolute best,” Mya says, zipping her coat up to her neck and rubbing her hands together.
“Yeah, I’m so glad you finally got to meet him. Those two are my favorites for sure.”
“And how do you feel about going to dinner with your mom tomorrow night?”
“I feel okay. She called again today and she seems to be different this time,” I say with a shrug. I want to tread with caution, but a small part of me can’t help but hope that she will stick around this time.
“Just be careful, okay?”
“Always,” I say, bumping her with my shoulder. “You worry too much.”
“And a date with Rocco the next night. I can’t wait. I want you to like him so we can go on double-dates.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I don’t do relationships, you know that. But I wouldn’t mind finding someone
to have occasional dinners with and a little something-something.” I pucker my lips and we both laugh.
“Speaking of double-dates. That new temp up front, Tabitha, asked me if Jesse had a brother after he dropped off lunch today.”
My shoulders stiffen on instinct. “Oh, really? She’s nice. What did you say?”
She looks at me, her eyes doing that assessment that only she can do, and then she shrugs. “I said he had three. Showed her pictures. She thought they were all gorgeous, obviously. But she said Spence is her type. So, Jesse’s going to ask him if he’s open to meeting her.”
My back goes ramrod straight and my hands fist in my pockets. I’m thankful my best friend can’t see my reaction to her words.
I clear my throat. “She seems far too sweet for Spence.”
Mya laughs. “No. Spence is actually a big teddy bear. He’s all bark and no bite.”
I suddenly have a vision of Spence biting my ass.
What the hell?
“Well, good luck to her. She’s going to need it to put up with that cocky bastard,” I hiss.
But maybe this is good. Old Solemn can date a nice girl, and I can go out with a sexy firefighter.
It’s just what the doctor ordered.
The perfect prescription to rid myself of Spence Taylor.
Chapter Eleven
Spence
I don’t know what the hell I was thinking turning Emma down. I was trying to do the right thing. The sheer fact that she was climbing me like I was her favorite tree is a sign that she’s in a vulnerable place right now. If she’s even considering a night with me … she’s not thinking clearly.
I found that out the hard way almost a year ago last Thanksgiving, when I was in the foulest mood and drunker than a skunk because my mom had us playing musical condos during football. God love the woman—she prides herself on being fair to all of her kids, and circus be damned, it ended up being a fun day. Mom tried to soften the stress of moving floors practically every damn hour by amping up the fancy alcohol concoctions. Before the dessert portion of the evening, I somehow ended up in an elevator alone with the goddamn she-devil herself.