The Shacking Up Series

by Helena Hunting

  “I don’t want cry-eyes, only fuck-eyes. I love you. Wish me luck.”

  “Luck.”

  I hang up and take a deep breath as the car pulls up in front of the Concord, where Lex is working this afternoon.

  In the weeks since the engagement party he’s been in regular contact. To be completely honest, almost nothing has changed between us apart from how often we see each other. Phone calls, texts, some video chats all became our norm. But sex is off the table and so are sleepovers. Which is part of the reason we haven’t seen as much of each other.

  It’s not just about my limited control, it’s his as well, which makes me feel slightly better. When we’re together we’re compelled to touch, and that can be dangerous. I am ashamed to report I have tried to get into his pants every time I’ve seen him. I even suggested just the tip once. And dry humping. He still said no, although I could tell it wasn’t easy.

  The six times I’ve seen Lex—all planned and in public places—the only contact I’m allowed is a hug and some hand holding. He won’t even kiss me—well he did, but it was on the cheek. I tried the sneaky-quick head turn to get some lip-on-lip contact. It didn’t work the way I wanted it to.

  Lex has made it perfectly clear that until I’m where I need to be emotionally, his dick is staying in his pants and out of me. It’s some solid incentive to sort myself out. I miss him. Not just the sex, which I definitely miss, but just being near him. I hadn’t realized in the months since we started sleeping together just how close we’d become. I miss the constant contact. I miss snuggling. I miss sleeping beside him and the warmth of his body next to mine. I feel as though an extension of myself has been removed without that closeness.

  I tried to expedite the process, but the truth is I’ve had a lot of personal sorting to do that no amount of yoga or self-defense classes could help me with. I don’t let people get too close to me because I’m afraid I’ll end up like my parents, who are constantly running away from each other. I fear being let down or being left behind.

  The only person I’ve ever allowed to get close and stay close is Ruby, because she’s been there with me through everything, my endless rebellions, my parents’ unstable, tumultuous relationship, moving to New York, my string of hot yet terrible boyfriends.

  Armstrong seemed safe because he appeared to be the polar opposite of who I’d been attracted to. I fell in love with the idea of safety instead of an actual person. Spending the rest of my life in a loveless marriage would’ve been torture. And then Lex came and turned everything upside down. I tried to run, but I just ended up going in circles, because I finally had a taste of what real love, the kind that makes a person want to stay, could be like.

  Through this entire thing Lex has been my constant. After Ruby’s engagement party he didn’t give me space like I expected. Instead he messaged daily, just to tell me he was thinking about me and that he was here if I needed him. It’s the way he’s been from the beginning—since he saved me in the airport from the security jerks rummaging through my sex toy tickle trunk. Or maybe even before that, from the moment he introduced himself and offered to get me a drink, he’s been there, sometimes in the background, just waiting—watching—but not in a creepy way.

  Lex is a tender soul. The more I let my guard down and him in, the more of that tenderness I see. He’s still a flirt and incredibly filthy, but there’s another side to him, one I caught glimpses of in Bora Bora, and once we were back in New York.

  Once Lex is in, he’s all in. That scares me a little, but it doesn’t change how I feel about him. I’m in love with this man. I’ve come to terms with that over the past few weeks.

  I find him in his favorite place to work, sitting in the back of the restaurant with his laptop and several file folders laid out in front of him. I take a moment to truly see him. He’s wearing his glasses. Dear sweet Lord they do amazing things to my body. Although that might be due in part to the weeks of sex deprivation. Lex Sex Withdrawal.

  His suit jacket is slung over the chair next to him, his shirtsleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, showing off the colorful artwork along his forearm. His hair is perfectly styled, the only part of him that really conforms. I exhale a shaky breath as I finally allow the feelings that have been confined and locked down to rise to the surface.

  I want this man so badly. And not just in bed, which I definitely want, but in all facets of my life.

  He’s immersed in his work so he doesn’t notice as I cross the restaurant. I bring a finger to my lips when the staff, who are already familiar with me, wave in greeting. As soon as I move into his peripheral vision his gaze lifts, surprise registers, then a smile lights up his gorgeous face. “Hi.”

  I adjust my purse strap, all my nerves firing at once. “Hi.”

  “I wasn’t expecting to see you until later tonight.” He pushes his chair back and stands.

  I take a cautious step forward as Lex’s gaze moves over me, taking in my attire. I’m wearing a dress. It’s black, short, and clingy. The perfect annulment dress. When his gaze finally returns to my face it’s full of familiar heat. The kind I haven’t been able to appreciate in weeks. And behind that are emotions I didn’t see before, maybe because I wasn’t ready for them.

  My nervousness must be apparent in the way I’m twisting my hands, because the heat quickly simmers and fades, replaced by concern.

  His fingertips skim the length of my bare arms. “Is everything okay, Amie?”

  “I just met with Pierce.” Even my voice is trembling, along with every other part of me. I didn’t realize just how afraid I’ve been of this moment. Sometimes being unleashed is just as terrifying as being shackled. And now that I can have this man, I have the irrational fear that he won’t want me anymore.

  His eyes flare and his fingers drop. “Oh?”

  “Armstrong finally signed the papers.” I do partial jazz hands and bite my lip. Dammit. Why do I feel like I’m going to cry? I blink a few times, trying to clear the sudden blur.

  Lex’s expression softens. “Are you okay?”

  I nod and step into him. His arms come around me, warm, solid, grounding. “I don’t know why I’m so emotional about this,” I mumble into his chest.

  I feel his lips at my temple. “You can be as emotional as you want, baby. He tethered you for no reason other than that he could, and now you’re free, that has to be a foreign feeling.”

  I absorb his affection. This man, right here, is everything I want. Admitting it is the easy part. Eventually I pull back so I can see him. I trace the contour of his jaw. His patience has been astounding. This is what love really is. Giving someone time to find their way back to you, holding out a hand when they’re ready to take it.

  “I’m as relieved as I am scared.”

  He touches my knuckle to his lips. I feel it everywhere in my body. “What are you scared of?”

  “I don’t know. Everything? I don’t want to be a mistake for you.”

  “Tell me something.” He cups my face in his wide, warm palms and brushes his lips gently over mine. “Does this feel like a mistake to you?”

  My lips move against his as I answer. “No.”

  “Then what is there to be afraid of?”

  “This,” I whisper.

  “What part of this?”

  “What if it doesn’t work out?”

  “What if it does?”

  “I don’t want to get hurt again.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Amie, I want to love you.” He caresses my cheek with his knuckles. “Won’t you let me try?”

  At my nod his lips find mine again, but it’s not gentle or chaste this time.

  One heated kiss in the middle of the restaurant is all it takes for Lex to pack up his laptop and files. We can’t keep our hands or mouths to ourselves on the elevator ride to the penthouse floor. We barely make it through the door—to the same suite we got caught in last time—before Lex drops to his knees and shoves my dress up to my hips.

  He e
xhales a long breath with a low whistle. “Ah, fuck.” And then he nuzzles the black lace and leather before he bites the inside of my thigh. He lifts his gaze, his smile wicked. “Up for a little anarchy, are we?”

  “With you? Always.”

  Epilogue: With Me

  Lexington

  This tux is hot. I’m sweating. It could be sympathy sweats. Bane is freaking the fuck out right now. He might look calm, but he’s adjusted his tie five times in the last thirty seconds, a sure sign he’s nervous. We Mills men are fidgety motherfuckers. None of us would ever excel as professional poker players. I elbow him in the shoulder and mutter, “Stop fidgeting.”

  He drops his hands and clasps them in front of him. That lasts for all of three seconds before he starts tapping on his hip.

  “Seriously, Bane. Chill out.”

  “I’m fucking nervous,” he snaps. “Do you have the ring?”

  “It’s still in my pocket, where it was when you asked me five minutes ago.”

  The music cues and he wipes his palms on his thighs.

  I grab his shoulders. “It’s do or die time.”

  Bane’s expression is incredulous.

  “Sorry.” I clap him on the back of the neck. “You got this. Go claim your woman for all eternity.”

  “I think it’s safe to say you shouldn’t switch to a career in motivational speaking.”

  “Thanks for killing my dreams.”

  He laughs. “I don’t know how Amie puts up with you.”

  “It’s ’cause my dick is huge.”

  My mother slaps me on the arm with her clutch. “Lexington, you’re in a church.”

  I turn and give her my most charming, apologetic smile. “Sorry, Mimi, just trying to take Bane’s mind off his nerves.”

  She glares, but I can see she’s fighting a smile. I step aside and let my brother link arms with our mother and walk down the aisle. Griffin, who returned from Asia after a six-month long business trip just in time for the wedding, follows behind.

  Amie’s gown is lavender, clingy and seriously sexy for a bridesmaid dress. Ruby gets props for that. I’m looking forward to getting my hands on Amie, and peeling that dress off, possibly with my teeth. I already know what she’s wearing under it, thanks to a few pictures sent earlier today.

  Amie smiles and winks as she takes her place as the maid of honor opposite me. I don’t really pay attention to the ceremony as much as I should, which is obvious when I’m elbowed for the ring.

  When the ceremony is over I step up beside Amie and thread my arm through hers, walking her down the aisle. I don’t know if this kind of wedding will ever be something she’ll want after what she’s been through, but I do know that I’m going to love her regardless.

  As we pass the last few aisles her grip on my arm tightens. I follow her gaze to where Brittany Thorton, or Whore-ton as Ruby has not-so-fondly nicknamed her, is sitting in the back row. But it’s not my cousin beside her. I vaguely recognize the guy she’s with, but I can’t put a name to his face. Apparently the rumors that Armstrong was dumped are true. Moorehead Media has run into some financial issues in the past few months, and it’s having quite the impact on his desirability factor.

  “What the hell is she doing here?” Amie whispers.

  I shrug. Her parents are here, too, since they’re old family friends, but it’s kind of weird that she’d attend when she’s been set up with both the groom and myself. Although, based on my experiences with Brittany, it’s all about the ladder-climbing opportunities.

  Once pictures have been taken I don’t get to be near Amie until speeches are over. The way we gravitate toward each other is subconscious. We’re not like magnets that attract and push away. She’s my sun and I’m her moon, connected by an invisible thread, bound but free.

  I take advantage of every single slow song. Holding her close, I drop my mouth to her ear. “How long are we obligated to stay?”

  “We’re in the wedding party. Until the end.”

  “Do you think we can disappear for a few minutes? You can say you forgot something in our room.” I nibble on her lobe.

  Amie hums like maybe she agrees that this is a good plan. My semi gets closer to becoming a full hard-on.

  “I can feel that,” she whispers.

  “Feel what? This?” I press my palm firmly against her back, keeping her tight against me.

  “Stop trying to probe my navel, and watch your hands, Mr. Mills, your grandparents are here, we need to keep it PG.” She shifts the hand that’s pressed against her low back up several inches.

  “Call me Mr. Mills again.”

  “No.”

  “Just once?” I brush my lips across her cheek.

  “No.”

  “Come on, baby. I’ll make it worth your while later. You’re killing me in this dress tonight, especially since I know what’s underneath it.”

  She leans back, which pushes her hips into mine, and bats her lashes. “You like my new pretties?”

  “I can’t wait to see what they look like off you.”

  She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “In a couple of hours you can get me naked, like you do pretty much every night.”

  “It’s two hours too many.”

  “You can survive two hours.”

  She’s right. I can. But I don’t want to. So I spend the next ninety minutes whispering filthy things in her ear. She threatens to withhold tickle trunk access if I keep it up, so I stop. Well, the whispering. Instead, I make her close dance with me even to the fast songs so she can feel my hard-on. Then I do all the things I know drive her crazy. I skim the length of her arm, kiss her shoulder, nuzzle her neck, and trace the line of her spine.

  The second we’re in the room she’s on me, pulling her jujitsu moves, taking me to the floor. “Look who’s having a hard time with control now.”

  “You’re the one who had your hands all over me all night.”

  “I like touching you.” She knows this.

  She bites my lip and yanks my shirt free from my pants. “Well you better start touching me in the places that count.”

  “That sounds like a threat. You planning to take something away if I don’t give you what you want?”

  Amie narrows her eyes at my raised brow. Then she sits up, bracing her hands on my chest, one side of her mouth curving up in a sly grin. “I brought your favorite toys.” At the tilt of my head her smile widens. “You might wanna consider playing nice with me.”

  I sit up in a rush, setting her off balance. She shrieks when I shove her dress up to her hips and grab her ass. Pushing to an awkward stand, I wrap her legs around my waist and carry her to the bed. Round one is frantic and wild. Round two is gentle and slow. I love every side of Amie, from naughty and dirty to sweet and soft.

  As we lay on the rumpled sheets afterward I stroke her back. “How was tonight for you?”

  She props her chin on my chest and closes one eye so she can focus on me. “You want me to rate the sex?”

  I pinch her ass. “The frequency and volume of your orgasms indicate it was a ten out of ten.”

  She tweaks my nipple in retaliation so I thread my fingers through hers to prevent it from happening again. “I’m talking about the wedding. You handled it well.” We’ve had conversations leading up to today, but being prepared doesn’t necessarily mean that the emotional impact will lessen.

  “The only thing that threw me was Brittany being there. Otherwise it was fine. Good even. I had fun. Were you worried?”

  “I just want to make sure you’re okay, and that you don’t keep everything locked up in here, like you sometimes do.” I tap her temple.

  “I’m okay.” Her smile is soft as she kisses my chin and then lays her head on my chest again.

  I wait, because I’ve given her a door and it will take her a few minutes to find the courage to accept the invitation to walk through it.

  “Lex?”

  “Yeah, baby.”

  “Can I ask you something withou
t you taking it the wrong way?”

  “You should be able to.”

  She breathes out a laugh. It’s another minute or so before she speaks again. “Do you want to get married? I mean, eventually, is that something you’re going to want? I don’t mean to me. I mean—” She shakes her head and mashes her face against my chest.

  “Is marriage off the table for you?” I know it’s a possibility. Her first trip down the aisle was memorable for all the wrong reasons. I’d love to have the opportunity to replace it with new, better memories, but only if it’s something she wants, too, somewhere in the distant future.

  “Just forget I asked that. It sounds stupid. I don’t want to get married, so don’t worry that I’m trying to push for that or anything, because I’m not.” She tries to escape so I tighten my hold on her.

  “Are you asking because you’re afraid that’s what I want, or are you afraid I don’t?”

  “I don’t know why I asked that. I need to use the bathroom.”

  She’s still trying to wriggle free. “Don’t run away from me, baby.”

  She stops fighting and goes limp. As soon as I loosen my hold she rolls away. I expect it. I know her well enough by now to understand her reaction to things. Just because she managed today doesn’t mean it wasn’t hard for her. I don’t let her get very far. I cage her with my arms and fit myself between her legs so she can’t bolt the way she wants to, the way she used to, before me, anyway.

  “Did today scare you?” I whisper against her lips.

  Her eyes flip open. She lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug. “They’re so happy together.”

  I rub my nose against hers. “So are we. Nothing has to change.”

  “Sometimes it terrifies me how much I love you. I didn’t even realize this kind of love was possible, but I don’t know—” She chokes on the words.

  “Neither do I.” I stroke her cheek, her fear makes me sad, but I understand where it comes from. “I won’t push you for things you might never be ready to give, but I can tell you right now, I don’t want to ever be without you. I’ll revere you regardless. I don’t need a wedding to prove that.”

  “You don’t need it, but would you want it?”