Daring You

by Ketley Allison

  I shove my boxers on quick. In my world, a man barrels into the guy who just fucked their girl, and I don’t want my Johnson out when he tries.

  My dick’s still wet from being inside her. Actually—from dipping into a place Mike never got to visit.

  I can see how he may be pissed off.

  “—what are you doing here?” Astor finishes. She stands, the sweater she’s wearing long enough to maintain decency in front of a fully suited ex.

  “This place is half mine,” Mike responds, mostly through his nose. He won’t take his eyes off me. My muscles bunch in response.

  I’m known for my tackles in football. What Mike doesn’t suspect is that I do them even better without padding.

  “I gave you a long weekend with this place to yourself,” Mike continues, “and I came here thinking it was high time to take what’s mine.”

  Again, his attention is on me. I resist rolling my eyes, then clocking him in the chin. “Last I checked, women aren’t property anymore, brother.”

  “You know what she went through today?” Mike asks me, voice high with coated concern.

  “Mike, don’t even start,” Astor says. “Just grab your shit and get out—”

  “I also came ‘round to check on you, since you bailed in the middle of a hearing. Shoulda known all it’d take to throw you off your game is a booty call—”

  Something about a pretty boy saying booty call grates against my nerves. And, in true pretty boy fashion, he adds, “never read you for a fuckin’ slut, Astor. At least fuck your boss, then you’d get something out of it.”

  Okay, buddy.

  I punch him hard and fast in the side of his head.

  “Ben!”

  There’s the Astor I’ve been missing. Growling, pissed off, and ready to jump in and join the fight.

  Or pull me out of it.

  “Back off,” she says to me. Her cheeks are still flushed from the orgasm I gave her, but I’m fairly sure there’s a few splotches of anger in there now.

  “Why? He’s a dickfest who deserves a good whomp—”

  “Not now, Ben.”

  Astor’s pleading with me, and I don’t know why. She runs to Mike, who’s bent over and moaning, the pussy, and says to him, “You said you’d call when you wanted to come back.”

  “This is my place, too,” Mike says while still cowed. “I shouldn’t have to announce myself just in case there’s a guy in here you’re in the middle of fucking.”

  “Oh, like you had the decency of doing with me? How many girls have been in here under my nose, huh?”

  As soon as Mike straightens, Astor shoves him back.

  Aha, so that’s why she told me to retreat. Astor wants the carcass for herself. I stalk into the kitchen, turning the faucet on so hard I nearly break it as I wash my hands.

  “At least I don’t fuck friends of the family,” Mike spits. “Jesus, Astor, your brother know about this? How you’re boning his best friend behind his back—”

  “Shut up, Mike,” Astor says.

  Mike does, but his lips curl into a sneer. “Guess he doesn’t.”

  “You don’t get to know about my life anymore, or be involved in it,” Astor snaps. “So grab what you need and get out. Send me a list of the rest of the stuff you want. I’ll make sure it gets to you.”

  “What if I want this whole damn apartment?”

  “Then you should’ve put your name with mine on the lease,” Astor responds, with barely a breath in between. “But you didn’t. I’m being fair enough, so just—just go. And leave the keys.”

  Mike rubs his temple and glares at me. I respond by silently expressing my wish to bop him again. He visibly shrinks back.

  But, I’m forced to admit this is Astor’s game. Mike is the spineless type that is better dealt with through brains, not brawn.

  “This is what I get for my concern, huh?” Mike says. “For thinking you left the courthouse because you were sick.”

  “You’re not here because you’re worried about me,” Astor says, and she sounds very tired.

  “It kills you to think I was, doesn’t it?” Mike says. “That maybe you mean more to me than you want to believe.”

  I can’t help it. I interrupt by choking on laughter.

  Mike whips over to me, ready to slay me with words, I’m sure, but he quickly becomes distracted.

  “Hey—what’s that?” Mike zeroes in behind my shoulder, and walks toward whatever’s got him.

  “Huh?” I say.

  Astor and I both twist around at the same time, and yep, we both suck in a breath.

  Her laptop.

  Open.

  With my dead, smiling parents, frozen in time and staring out into the wide, modern world.

  “You’ve got your laptop on?” Mike asks. He picks it up as Astor races over to grab it from him. “While he’s here?”

  Mike’s tall, like me, like Astor, and he easily holds out of her reach as she jumps to snatch it. “You been showing him privileged information, Astor?”

  “What do you take me for?” Astor says. She puts her hand on her hips, pretending to be disaffected, but I know her heart must be pounding as hard and fast as mine.

  He can’t know. Mike can never find out who I am.

  “It’s a picture of two people who’ve been plastered over the news all weekend,” Astor says. “And, until now, Ben had no idea what was on that laptop, since he came over and surprised me while I was in the middle of it.”

  “Well these two people are in a picture the media can’t have, since it’s been cropped,” Mike says. “The kid was on the mom’s lap. He’s been cut out, so unless you had the rest of your brain cells fucked out of you, you would’ve known that and shut this thing down as soon as Bennie-boy knocked on your door.”

  Mike’s so busy attempting to one-up Astor that he doesn’t register my reaction, or the fact that he’s now the one giving up privileged info, but who am I to tell him, since my gut is fast losing altitude.

  I can feel my mom’s plush, purple cotton shirt on my cheek. Gardenia perfume. A soft hand, smoothing down my hair. “Smile, Ry. One good smile will get you one scoop of ice cream after.”

  A lilting, child’s voice responding, “And two good smiles?”

  She laughs. Kisses my forehead. “Two of your favorite scoops, then.”

  “Three?”

  Dad’s deep, rumbling, laugh. “Don’t push your luck, kiddo. The cameraman better’ve caught a good picture by then. I haven’t been this uncomfortable since my penguin suit at our wedding.”

  But he kisses mom, as if remembering it was the best day of his life.

  I shake myself out of it, but I can’t stop the ghost of Ryan Delaney rendering my face colorless.

  Astor and Mike’s colliding voices spiral into my ears, and I breathe through the dizzying speed required to bring Ben Donahue back to the forefront.

  “Whoa, better check on your buddy there, Astor,” Mike says. “He’s about to pass the fuck out.”

  “Get the hell out of—Ben? Wait, Ben?”

  Astor rushes over and clutches my arm, steering me to the couch. She whispers in my ear as I sit, “I’m getting him out. Stay strong a little longer.”

  Stay strong.

  Like I haven’t been strong all my damn life.

  It’s Ryan I want out. Don’t give two fucks about Mike.

  I don’t know this boy who keeps invading my brain very well, but he’s deciding to get to know me at the worst moments. Next, I’ll be stumbling drunk on the field, unsure whether to catch a football or smile for an ice cream cone.

  “Here.” Astor strides back to Mike, gripping her left hand. She grabs Mike’s arm, and shoves something into his palm. “Like you generously keep reminding, this is twenty-k’s worth of your shit. So, take it, be happy with it for now, and we’ll discuss division of assets later.”

  Jesus. I didn’t even notice she still wore the ring.

  “Spoken like a true divorce attorney. You sure misse
d your calling, going after husbands’ fortunes.”

  “Oh, fuck off,” Astor says, and I concur.

  Mike pockets the ring, and smiles like he got the last shot. But really, I’m the reason Astor is walking a little funny, and I’ll take that satisfaction over a lame lawyer joke any day. I smile at him, hoping to communicate just how effectively I had his ex, and how much I’m probably going to do it again.

  His sneer shrivels.

  “I’ll come back after I make a few phone calls,” he says to Astor. “Namely, your brother.”

  Now it’s Astor’s turn to go white. “Stay out of it, Mike.”

  “No way. Your little fame whore over there? TMZ would love a tidbit like this, and it would be even better with a black eye from your bro.”

  “This is so beneath you.” But Astor’s voice shakes.

  “So’s fucking your brother’s best friend on your ex-fiance’s floor.”

  At that, Mike snaps the front door shut as primly and firmly as a man who got the last pot-shot at a woman.

  I shake my head, ashamed for him.

  Astor presses her palms against the door, head bowed. I can’t think of anything to say.

  “God. I really need a drink,” she says at last. “We’re in trouble.”

  I rest elbows on my knees. I feel just about as defeated as she does.

  What’s worth protecting at this point?

  Locke finding out who I really am?

  Or Locke finding out I boned his sister?

  I bury my face in my hands, rubbing hard. I’m not even sure anymore.

  24

  Astor

  I’m staring at my closed laptop, perched on my couch all innocently, when I can really blame everything that’s happening on its silver, battery-powered self.

  If my firm didn’t take this case, I’d never know about Ben’s protected past.

  Part of me wishes I could just hate Ben the way I always have, or, barring that, drool over him and flutter my eyelashes whenever he walks by, like most ladies tend to do when he’s in their proximity.

  In either scenario, I don’t want to be smart. I wish I’d never figured out who he was. I wish I could just fuck him and forget him, be enemies with benefits, and have nothing more to do with Ben Donahue other than sharing godparent rights to a sweet baby girl.

  And I love my intelligence. It’s what got me past any horror, burying my grief in knowledge and data. Solving other people’s mysteries when I couldn’t fathom my own. I’m a proud woman in a powerful career, making my own way, and I’m horrified I’m made to regret that right now.

  At the moment, my brain’s only buried me in deeper shit.

  Or is it my vagina?

  Could be both.

  Mike’s aware of Ben and I’s…whatever we have going. He’s a bomb ready to press his own detonator as soon as the chance arises, unless we preempt Mike with our own self-destruction.

  I ask Ben, before he leaves, if he’s going to my brother.

  “Do you want me to?” he responds.

  “I don’t know,” I said. I search for my ring finger to fiddle with it, realize it’s bare, and drop my hands to my side. It’s a nervous habit I’m ready to ditch. “But I do know he needs to hear it from you or me, not Mike.”

  “You got that right.”

  “I want it to be me,” I say, with sudden emphasis.

  Ben nods, the man full of more understanding than I ever gave him credit for. “How much time do you think we have?”

  “Mike likes to think he’s unpredictable, but he often needs liquid courage before he does anything risqué. Let me check.”

  Ben’s stare follows me curiously as I go to the kitchen island, pull open a drawer, and tap in the passcode to Mike’s iPad.

  “Yeah, he’s at a bar not far from here.” I look up from the screen. “Mike’s a lot of talk, and to face down Locke? To text him something like this? I don’t think Mike’s eager to be a victim of the results.”

  “You’ve got satellite eyes on the guy?”

  “It’s not what it seems.” I have a weird urge to defend myself. “The Find My Phone thing. It’s on here.”

  “You got me on that thing?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Locke?”

  “Well, maybe. But he’s a little fucker, too, ‘cause I know he’s doing the same to me on his phone.”

  “Do you all think you’re gonna be kidnapped or something?”

  “Can never be too careful.”

  Too late, I realize where our banter’s going. Ben is, in fact, at a high risk of being kidnapped if he’s ever found out.

  He reads my expression perfectly, and reacts with a low growl. “This is exactly what I’m worried about. You can’t react like this, Astor. Any time a murder comes up or a badly-timed joke—you gotta keep a straight face.”

  “I can do this, Ben. I’m emotionless for a living.”

  “Then stop looking at me with doe eyes every time someone comes close to my past.”

  My brows jump. “You’re talking about Mike noticing the picture on the laptop?”

  “Yeah, that.”

  “Fine. Maybe I’m a little green, seeming how I haven’t had a full day to process your secret identity.”

  Ben’s shoulders slope down. “I know it’s hard. But I need you solid on this—”

  “You have me.”

  He searches my expression, both of us on opposite sides of the room, unwilling to be the first to step closer and show any weakness.

  “I didn’t want to do this to you,” he says quietly.

  “I’m the one who wouldn’t stop searching after all your warnings.”

  “Yeah, but now I’m forcing you to lie to your brother. My friend. All of my friends, actually. Our family.”

  Ben’s summarizes our hodgepodge group too accurately. They are family. What are we doing screwing with it by screwing each other?

  “We’re keeping it from them for their own safety,” I correct him. “And, it turns out, I’m already lying to Locke. What’s another one?”

  Ben’s throat bobs.

  “I’m going to tell him tomorrow morning,” I say, softer. “Before work.”

  He nods.

  “I’ll, um, I’ll text you tomorrow and tell you how it goes,” I say.

  “Yeah, then I’ll go talk to Locke.” Ben rubs a palm over his scruff. “Let him know that it’s nothing. We’re both consenting adults, but it won’t come to anything or mess up our relationship.”

  What is our relationship? I want to ask. The pit in my stomach wants me to ask. “Okay. Yeah. It’s better not to team up against him, either.”

  “Right.”

  “It’s a plan, then. So…I’ll see you later.”

  Ben moves to the front door, sliding on his jacket, but pauses in the foyer as he’s slipping on his boots.

  “Are we good?” he asks.

  I’ve never been so exposed, to him or to Mike, clad in a long sweater, with messy hair and a face devoid of makeup. I wish I had my glasses to draw the eye away from the scars on my cheeks. I wish I filled out this designer boyfriend sweater a bit better.

  My attention strays to Ben’s arms, now covered with a winter coat. I can see them, anyway, despite all the layers—his scars are so much greater than mine.

  “Yes, of course,” I reply to him.

  “You sure? ‘Cause I know we…”

  “It was good. Great, even.”

  “Enough to try again?” he asks through a smirk, but it falls as soon as it comes.

  Ben’s secrets. Mike’s threats. Those are not things mindless, adventurous sex can take away.

  “We’ll talk later,” I say instead of answering.

  “Astor.”

  “What?”

  It comes out snappier than intended, but he needs to leave. Ben has to go before I pull at his arm and beg him to stay.

  “This, what we’re doing…does it…?”

  Mean anything? Hurt you? Feel like more th
an a distraction?

  Whatever Ben means, he keeps the rest of the question to himself. “Never mind. I’ll see you.”

  I nod, but he doesn’t see it. Ben’s already shut the door behind him.

  Once I’m sure Ben’s in the elevator, descending into the lobby and entering the public life of a smiling, handsome pro-footballer, I walk barefoot to my bathroom.

  Shower.

  Feel the tenderness between my legs, the residual ache from new, adventurous, sinful sex, and it’s as if Ben’s behind me again, cupping my breasts, sucking on my neck, his dick a heavy rod resting against my lower back…

  It’s just sex.

  It’ll never be more than that.

  It won’t happen again.

  I close my eyes in the steam for a while.

  After pulling on an over-sized tee, I check my phone one more time—for Mike’s whereabouts, and for any texts or raging voicemails from Locke.

  Mike is still at the bar, likely distracted by another woman and figuring he’d deal with ruining my life at a later time. My phone is silent on all message, voicemail, and phone call fronts.

  Nothing and no one.

  The only e-communication that’ll be overloaded is my work email, and I don’t want to go through it right now.

  The database. Thinking about emails makes me remember that my laptop has access to the firm’s cloud, and any work Taryn’s done. I sprint to the living room and pull up what I need, the laptop’s sudden brightness forcing me to blink out the glare a few times.

  I scroll, find my work on the complicated finances of Ryan’s inheritance, and despite all I’ve learned, despite Ben being in this apartment, being inside me, moments ago, my finger hovers over the DELETE button.

  It’s Ben over my career.

  I never thought such conviction would drive me, never again. Ben wouldn’t ever come first in my life, not after what he did. But, things are different now. I’m a changed woman and he’s a different man—literally.

  Some emotions are better kept trapped, but others will suffocate if they’re not freed.

  Closing my eyes, I hit DELETE.

  I shut the laptop and pace through the dark, returning to my bedroom. I consider calling Locke in this moment of brutal decision making, and telling him over the phone about Ben.