by Scott, S. L.
Shaking my head, I reply, “I still have it in a bag at the top of my closet.”
Running the tip of her finger down the bridge of my nose, she says, “I’m intrigued by the fact that you’d tell me that. That would totally creep out some women.” I have no doubt. She taps the tip of my nose. “I’m not one of them. Why’d you keep it?”
“Because some things are worth holding on to.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Wellington.” I love that I can see every emotion trailing across her face. “I have a confession. It’s going to make you really mad.” Despite the fact she knows it will upset me, a smile still wiggles the corners of her mouth.
We’re talking about Tealey Bell. How bad can it be? “I doubt it, but I’m ready. Confess away.”
“Senior year . . .” she starts but pauses, biting her lip. “Don’t hate me, okay?”
“I couldn’t.” If I were wearing a shirt, I might be tugging at my collar, though. She has a knack for amping up the suspense. I have no idea what she’s about to tell me, but I might need to brace myself, after all.
“Senior year at NYU, I ran into your date to the bowl game in the bathroom at that bar down from the stadium. We’d gone there to watch since we didn’t all get tickets.”
“I remember.” I nod. “We sold the three we had so we could all watch together.”
“Yep.” She smiles so sweetly that I’m wondering how this could possibly lead to something bad. “So, we were at that bar, and I needed to use the restroom. She was in there.”
“Okay.”
Her gaze pivots, and then she takes a deep breath and exhales. “I told her that we had just broken up, and she was a rebound.”
Not what I expected. “Kayla.”
“Yep.” She snaps her fingers. “Kayla. That’s right. I’d forgotten her name. She was very nice. Well, before I said that . . .”
Staring at her in disbelief, I try to remember how that worked out with Kayla. Ah. “She dumped me during halftime.”
Her arms tighten around my neck, and she kisses my face. Probably to hide the guilt. “I know.” She giggles. Guess there’s no guilt felt. “I’m a terrible person. I’m sorry yet . . . not at all sorry.”
Still surprised by how devious that was, I never saw Tealey doing something like that. “You sabotaged my relationship.” And why didn’t I think to do this to Steve? Fucker.
“I did.” This time, she doesn’t even try to hide her smile. I rub her thigh, finding her devious side a turn-on.
“I’m impressed, Bell. You play dirty.”
Tilting my head to face her, she kisses the corners of my mouth. “Only when I want something. How does that make you feel, Counselor?”
Counselor. Hearing that name elicits a possessive growl in my throat. I know Tealey never would have told me about doing that to Kayla if we weren’t where we are today. She was possessive back then. I like that even more.
Running a hand into the back of her hair, I move her closer, and then whisper, “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
Standing, I lift her into my arms and start for the bedroom. “I know what I want to do today.”
“And that is?”
I toss her on my bed and plop down next to her. “I want to be inside you.”
Running her hands over my comforter, she laughs. “That’s all you want to do today?”
“Yep.” I roll to the side and tuck her hair behind her ears. “That’s all I need.”
Our clothes come off as our lips find each other.
My mind spins as I watch her wriggle. She’s desperate for my hands on her—my rough touch and my gaze drifting over her body. I want to give her what she wants.
Freckles on her thighs draw me in, and I move to cover her softness with the heat of my hand. Her body moves, her eyes wild with the same desire I feel inside. We made love last night several times over. As great as that felt, seeing her lying in my bed brings out a different craving.
Yearning.
Voracity.
Uncontrollable hunger.
I can’t change the power of the hurricane I’m becoming with her, but I’ll do my best to control the speed for her enjoyment. Taking the sheet, I push the fabric away from Tealey’s body. This amazing woman trusts me not just with her body but also with her mind, her joy, and every inch of skin and emotion like I deserve her.
Covering the hills of her hips, I settle her small frame on top of me. She rolls a condom over my dick before rising, only to sink down again. Seated with me inside her, she rests her palms on my chest, and whispers, “You say you waited years but know that you weren’t waiting alone.” Leaning down, she kisses me as I devour her words, her kiss, her mouth, and everything she’ll give me. I’m greedy when it comes to her.
She takes every thrust, coming back down with her own intensity. As she rocks on top, her breasts summon me. I knead and pinch, watching her react and learning what she likes and needs.
The warmth of her body consuming mine has me falling deeper under her spell.
As she climbs toward her orgasm, I’m spellbound by her beauty. No other woman has ever done this to me. Her eyes dip closed, and her head tilts back with her mouth open. She’s stunning in her glory, owning every part of me without even trying. If she only knew . . .
She moans, cries out my name, and as she comes, I dive into the deep end of her heavenliness, joining her as I orgasm. God, this woman.
Even sated, I can’t wait for more of her.
She curls around my side, her breath still uneven. But something makes her giggle, and she says, “I had no clue it could be this good.”
I run my thumb over her cheek and lower to her neck to feel the rapidly thumping beat of her pulse. “Same, baby. Same.”
And seeing her gentle smile, I feel content for the first time.
“I want to get married.”
So much for the contentedness . . .
Maybe my reaction—eyes bulging like a cartoon character—isn’t as controlled as I would have liked. But what the hell?
She wants to talk about marriage?
With her hands already thrown up in surrender, she sits up. “One day. I mean one day. Not today. Oh, God.” She covers her eyes with her hands. “I totally blew this amazing sex moment—”
“It was more than a moment. I mean, it wasn’t that fast.” No need to base skill or prowess on how fast or slow things take. She turns me on. That’s the bottom line.
“I shouldn’t have said anything.” She won’t even look at me, yet I can’t stop staring at her—probably still bug-eyed. I can’t lose my cool. She’s not the opposing side. She’s my girlfriend.
Why did I bristle at the mention of marriage? Is it because I’m not ready—that seems logical. It’s also fast. We’ve only dated a short time. Granted, I’ve already been with Tealey longer than most women in my past.
Taking a seriously deep breath, I pull her hands from her face and am greeted with mortification. There’s nothing I hate more about Tealey Bell than seeing pain or shame in her expression. I swore I’d never be the cause of it, and I stand by that.
Before I have a chance to say anything, she says, “I’m not embarrassed that I just blurted that out, but I am embarrassed at how you’re looking at me.”
She shifts her weight like she’s going to get off me, but I hold her hips with my hands.
I’m not sure what to say—my mind is still reeling from her unexpected admission. I just need a moment to get myself together because I need to choose my words wisely from this point forward.
“I didn’t mean to ruin things,” she says, swallowing hard. Her gaze falls from me while her fingers torture the sheets by twisting them.
My heart both aches and swells. I hate that she thinks she just ruined things. But at least I can fix that. “Look at me, Tealey.” When she finally works her gaze back to me, I add, “We made love last night and just had pretty intense sex. Emotions are running high because we’re still undefined. Y
ou don’t need to question my intentions. I’ll tell you where I stand. I’m right here with you. I . . . I’m not quite ready to talk life plans, but . . .” I swallow down any jaded feelings and look at this woman on top of me.
This is like a daydream and a nightmare all rolled into one. Tealey’s admission is a game changer—a life changer, actually. It’s the one thing I didn’t think I’d ever hear her say, nor is it anything I ever thought I’d consider. It doesn’t feel wrong, not at all, just quick. And with so many things between us undecided—Marlow, my promotion, Cammie and Cade’s wedding shenanigans, and the newness of this whole damn thing—I just feel unprepared. And being unprepared is the worst sin in my book.
Still, losing her isn’t an option, even if I’m not sure what the endgame is.
I stroke her hip with my thumb.
“I want to be your boyfriend,” I tell her, “for now, until we get our feet under us and figure this out. What do you say to that, Tealey Bell? Will you be my girlfriend?”
The morning sun has wrangled free from the clouds, and the rays through the glass halo her soft, blond hair. Although her face is shadowed, I see embarrassment slipping away from her delicate features. “Do you mean that?”
“I mean it. I have no doubts whatsoever. You make me happy, and I want to do the same for you.” I sit up and caress her shoulders before leaning in and kissing her.
She licks her lips when we part, and then says, “I don’t question your intentions.”
“I didn’t mean to imply you didn’t trust me. I know you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.” I can see the questions mounting in her expression, and fuck, if she needs to get things off her chest, I’ll let her. “But you’re wanting to know how I see things in the long term?”
“Not just with me but in life. How do you see your life? Where do I fit in? How do I fit in your life, in your home? And to throw more honesty your way . . . I stopped returning my real estate agent’s calls last week. I’ve felt guilty for that, but I needed a break from the disappointment of not feeling I could afford something that you’d approve of. I haven’t told you because I thought you might get mad.”
“There’s no expiration date on you staying here. And here’s some honesty for you,” I say, tapping her nose. “I like you being here, so don’t settle for a place because you feel there’s an imaginary deadline or you think you’re in the way. You’re not.” The softness of her skin beckons me, and I rub along her leg, resting my hand where it meets her waist. “I want you to find a place that feels like home.”
Like my place. I leave that unspoken between us. It may be how I feel, but I need to hold on to logic, not emotions.
“That means more to me than you know. Thank you.” She buries herself in my arms.
“As for marriage,” I start, but my throat clogs around the last word, and I have to cough to dislodge it. Understanding her need to know what we are and what we’re doing is relatable. It’s something I think about and have fallen back on just friends as a means to an end. But it’s not an answer to the question. It’s an opportunity to think beyond today. “We’ve been friends for a long time now, and even though it does seem premature to have this talk in some respects, I understand why we might need to. We’re not new to each other. We’re in the dead center of the marrying age. It’s all around us and even closer because of Cammie and Cade.”
Her eyes are intent on me, not wanting to miss a word. I continue, “My parents’ marriage didn’t work out. I’m faced with the ugliness of divorce every day.” I glance outside before returning to her, wanting to give her what she needs to hear while being honest about my own feelings. That’s just it. I can be honest with her, and there’s no judgment. “When I think about the future, I’m not spending my life alone. I’m not opposed to marriage. I respect the institution too much to damage it with my baggage, so it’s always seemed unattainable for someone like me.”
When I see her eyes glass over, I lie down and hold my arm open wide. She snuggles against me, and I wrap my arm around her. I say, “You want to get married one day. You’ve always been a romantic while I’m a cynic.”
She shakes her head, angling it my way. “You want it to last forever. We’re alike that way. Deep down, you’re a romantic just like me, Rad.”
“I don’t want to disappoint you.” I lose her blues to the far wall as we explore this new territory of sharing our deepest desires and worries. “All I can do is tell you how I feel right now. I’ve never been happier, and that’s because of you. Despite what you think, the idea of being with you doesn’t scare me.”
“What scares you?”
The idea of being with anyone is new. It’s been a long time since I dabbled in having a steady girlfriend. The strength of her hold on me hasn’t lessened, the way her hands hold mine, and the way my heart holds hers.
“I was never scared to be with you. It’s the thought of living without you that scares me.”
29
Rad
I’m not sure what happened.
One minute, I’m living life like I always do, and the next, I’m one-half of a couple. I’m coupling. This is going to take some getting used to. Especially when my new girlfriend . . . Girlfriend . . . Whoa. I have a girlfriend.
Tealey sits on the bed with crossed legs, watching me choose a tie for court. She says, “Red’s nice.”
“Too aggressive for this judge.”
“Blue is calming.”
“Eh. I’m not feeling it.” Watching the ties rotate on the holder, uninspired, I release the button, and it comes to a stop. “What does green say to you?”
She stares at me, slowly blinking before she falls back on the bed, kicking her legs in the air. “I don’t know. This is exhausting. What does orange say? Purple? Yellow? Polka dot?” Propping herself up on her elbows, she says, “And here I thought facts and principles only mattered. Who knew a tie could make or break a case?”
“So burgundy then?” I grab the tie and loop it around my neck.
As if I’ve offended her, she stands with her hands on her hips. “I said red first.”
“Burgundy isn’t red. It’s deeper. Richer. It says you can trust me, and my client should win.”
Her gaze goes to my tie, and then, in disbelief, she eyes me again. “That’s what you think that tie says?”
“Sure, to this judge.”
“You pick your clothes based on the presiding judge?”
I’m lost to how she doesn’t know this. Doesn’t everybody plan their professional clothes around impressions and performance? I glance at her pants with another cat print, suddenly realizing maybe it doesn’t matter in all fields. “Nice pants.”
“Don’t mock me just because you’re absorbed by the shade of a tie in hopes it wins you the case. Next, you’re going to say the material plays a role.”
“Good point. Maybe I should go with the pure silk.”
Throwing her arms up in the air, she storms to the door. Just inside the hall, she whips back around. “For your information, these pants are the cat’s pajamas,” she says, slowly enunciating the last two words.
“I get it. They’re pajama pants.”
“No.” She huffs, shaking her head. “You don’t get it. You know, like the bee’s knees?” Staring at my blank face, she adds, “Cat’s pajamas? Oh, forget it. They’re awesome. That’s all that matters.” By seeing how bothered she is when she walks off, I start to wonder if we just had our first argument. Shit. I don’t even know what it’s about.
“Hey, Tealey?” I call, dipping my head into the hall. “So no on the burgundy?”
Her door slams closed. “Okay, I’ll go with green. That color always brings me luck.”
Before I head out, I stop by her room. Standing there, I begin to wonder how this will work exactly with her room and mine. Will we start shacking up in the same room, or will she want her space, like now? Will I want mine?
I don’t think there will be an issue for me. I’ll go where she goes
, wherever she’s most comfortable. I knock. “I’m sorry.”
The door cracks open, and she’s standing with a cocked eyebrow. “For what?”
Resting against the doorframe, I shrug. “I don’t actually know, but I don’t want you upset either.”
She opens the door and steps into my arms. “Not everyone gets my humor.”
“They’re idiots.”
“You didn’t get the joke.”
“Sometimes, I’m an idiot as well.”
Squeezing me in her arms, she says, “You’re not. Not at all.” She walks to the kitchen but glances over her shoulder with a smile. “I like your tie. You look very handsome. I’m sure the judge will love it.”
“Thanks,” I reply coyly. She grins.
“I need to leave in a few minutes, but I wanted to talk about us once more.”
“What do you want to talk about?” She hands me a bottle of water and then starts filling a cup with water from the faucet for herself.
“Marlow and her father are scheduled for a meeting today.”
“Oh.” There’s a curtness in the simple response.
“It was supposed to be over lunch or dinner, but I had Ashleigh reschedule to meet at the office.”
She perks up a bit. “I see.”
Not sure why I’m holding back, but I need to get to my point. “The group gossips.”
“They do,” she replies and then takes a sip of water. “Is this about keeping us a secret?”
Thank God she said it. Now I don’t feel shitty for bringing it up again.
She goes on, “I agree. I still don’t have all the details, but what does it hurt to pretend you’re together if it’s only for her father? And, with the wedding just around the corner, we shouldn’t take away the spotlight. Friends aside . . .” She comes closer and straightens my jacket. “I like that we have something that only we share, so I’m good with keeping us a secret.”
Her nod is full of the same confidence I recognize from the day we met. She may have apologized for ruining my shirt back then, but she wasn’t seeking forgiveness for how we did it. How is it possible she’s even more beautiful?