Friends with Benefits

by Margot Radcliffe

  His first text was a link to the local paper, so she tapped it with enough trepidation that a pit of dread opened up in her gut. Glaring at her in bright white light on the homepage of the Las Vegas Gazette was an enormous picture of her and Carter in Elysium’s stairwell. Her legs were wrapped around him and they were basically sucking each other’s faces off. In that light, the rest of her uncle’s text messages, which were some variation of FIX IT, made much more sense.

  She groaned, a sound from deep in the bottom of her chest. And she’d thought yesterday had been a shitty day.

  Calling her uncle, she prepared herself for his disappointment and the reiteration of his earlier directive to clean up her image. It was exactly what he delivered.

  “I’m calling Carter, too,” her uncle expounded, fuming. “The Carter Hayes I know has more respect for women than to put them in compromising positions like that. He should be ashamed of himself.”

  “I think—” she started, in an attempt to explain that neither of them had been thinking straight, but her uncle wasn’t interested in excuses or equivocations.

  “You need to fix this, Alexa, or we’re both out of a lot of money,” he grumbled.

  “Understood,” she told him, her heart clenching with the thought of hurting the investment her uncle had worked his whole life to build. “I will take care of it.”

  “Please do,” he instructed, some of the steam going out of his bluster. It wasn’t like her uncle to be mad, but seeing his niece semi-nude in his daily newspaper would probably put anyone in a less-than-gracious mood. “And Alexa, if anything else like this happens, the deal we had about Halcyon is out the window.”

  Her heart squeezed at the thought of losing Halcyon, too. “I promise I’ll make it right,” she reiterated. “Please just enjoy the rest of your vacation.”

  She expected her uncle to hang up, but he stayed on the line.

  Finally, he spoke again. “You and Carter, of all people, know that there are cameras everywhere in a casino. What the hell were you thinking, dear?”

  Alexa so did not want to have this conversation. Especially since the moment she’d walked into that stairwell she’d known there would be a camera. She just hadn’t given a shit.

  “We got into a fight. It didn’t, um, end like I expected it to,” she explained lamely.

  Uncle John chuckled softly and some of the panic in her chest subsided. Business or not, he was still her uncle.

  “Well, seems like this is a problem you two could work on together.”

  Alexa blew out a breath. Unfortunately, he was right. After that photo in the news, Carter was her only solution.

  Running a hot shower and scarfing down some pain relievers, she tried desperately not to think about just what had happened last night. Carter knew everything about her, stayed up late with her after her parents died and she couldn’t sleep, been her confidant about guys, her trusted friend as she’d learned how to run the casinos. And they were one bad breakup away from losing all of it.

  She changed for work into a charcoal skirt and an aqua sleeveless blouse, hoping she didn’t look as awful as she felt. She had no idea what she’d say to him now. Maybe, “Hey, I know we almost boned, but I got scared because I’m an emotional kindergartner, so do you mind if we just get fake-engaged instead?”

  The drive to the bakery and then to Carter’s was short, but thankfully gave her enough time to think of a plan of action. If heavy and shameless groveling was, in fact, considered an actual plan.

  His house was ultramodern; the standard Southwestern adobe tile roof and white stucco didn’t interest Carter. Instead he’d designed a three-story building with sharp angles of steel, glass and countless windows. Five stone columns reached from the ground to the top floor, the middle floor cantilevering out into the air over the floor beneath.

  It wasn’t really her style, but it was very expensive and creative, the latter of which probably most appealed to Carter. He’d always been a little bit of an odd man out, never quite fitting into the crowd. In high school, he’d carried a briefcase instead of a backpack. That fact had subjected him to a fair amount of ridicule to the point where Alexa had to step in a couple of times, except it never seemed to matter to him. If people made fun of her, she would have switched to a backpack, but the next day, Carter doubled down and added a pocket watch to his briefcase. It was one of the reasons she liked him so much. He was always himself, and there was a lot of comfort in that for her, especially in a place like Vegas where everyone wanted to be something else.

  His house doors had smart locks and her fingerprint was already programmed in, so she let herself in without ringing the bell. It was a much better idea to not give him a chance to slam the door in her face before he could hear her best groveling.

  She stepped into his foyer, a wide-open space with dark wood floors and an enormous modern brass light fixture hanging down from the high ceiling. Just as she headed in the direction of the kitchen to set down her bags, a youngish girl in her twenties tiptoed down the suspended staircase, silver stilettos dangling from her hand. It was clearly the commencement of a walk of shame.

  When the girl saw Alexa, she froze mid-step, eyes wide with an arrested expression on her face.

  “Don’t worry,” Alexa offered. “We’re just friends.”

  The blond-haired girl blew out a relieved breath. “Thank God.”

  The two exchanged another brief smile before she bolted toward the front door, taking a moment to slip on her shoes before she opened it.

  The girl had her hand on the knob when Carter appeared at the top of the steps. Looking from his guest to Alexa, his eyes shuttered, as if he couldn’t handle the sight of what was happening.

  Alexa attempted to rein in her rage, because Carter had every right to seek out someone else last night since she’d basically left him high and dry. Except, wait a second, no, he damned well didn’t because she’d given him a fucking amazing blow job.

  More importantly, had it meant that little to him that he could turn around on a dime and sleep with someone else? They had been best friends for over fifteen years and their actions last night had changed everything.

  Her heart stopped for a second at the thought that he might be seriously dating that girl, but he would have told her and she wouldn’t have been sneaking out the door at first light.

  So basically she was just pissed again. The door closed shut behind his late-night date.

  “It’s not what you think,” Carter began, holding a hand up as if to halt her train of thought.

  Alexa was a power player and she’d spent years perfecting her poker face, which was just what she gave him.

  “What you do is your business, Carter,” she said, meeting his eyes as he came down the steps. “We’re just friends.”

  Jaw ticking, he crossed his arms over his bare chest and stared her down but she didn’t give anything away.

  “Alex, you can pretend you’re not pissed all you want because far be it from me to presume that last night meant anything to the man-eater of Vegas, but I promise nothing happened. You fucking know me better than that. Now would you like to tell me why you’re skulking around in my house so early?”

  “You know why I’m here,” she threw out, walking briskly into his expansive kitchen, where slate countertops and butter-colored eco-friendly wood cabinets lined the space. She sat her purse on top of the island along with the bag of pastries and fruit salad she’d picked up from his favorite bakery, vaguely irritated that she’d brought breakfast for a person who at the very least slept in the same room as another woman. “And since you now seem to be in a position to owe me a favor, I’m very glad I did stop by so early.”

  “Nothing happened,” he gritted. “She was here when I got home—”

  Alexa raised a hand. “Like I said, your love life is not my business.”

  “Right,
how can I forget that we’re just friends,” he mocked. “Your lips are wrapped around my dick every day.”

  A bolt of heat shot up Alexa’s spine, which enraged her because she wasn’t interested in revisiting last night. She might not want to do it again, but it had meant something to her. A whole hell of a lot, in fact. Clearly, he didn’t feel the same way, which felt a little like a vise mercilessly squeezing her insides and jiggling them around at the same time. Additionally, she did not at all appreciate his sarcastic tone considering what he’d done, sexual penetration or not.

  “Well, apparently that wasn’t enough of an evening for you,” she said, kicking herself for not being able to hold it back. “Nevertheless, it’s for the best because you’re going to have to pose as my fake fiancé.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  CARTER WAS ASTONISHED to see Alexa in his house this morning at all, much less with pastries, witnessing a near indiscretion on his part and proposing a fake engagement. It was a less-than-ideal wake-up call.

  When he’d gotten home last night, Kelly had been waiting in his driveway. She was an old friend who’d just shown up with an expectation that usually he was up for, but they hadn’t slept together last night. He should have sent her away, but he’d been just pissed off enough to hope Alexa got wind of it to let Kelly stay. He was still pissed now, as a matter of fact, because last night had been some pretty epic bullshit even from Alexa, who was never honest about what she was feeling.

  However, the call he’d gotten from his board just minutes before she arrived was the reason he’d nudged Kelly out the door. His company’s stock had risen in value today after the story of his and Alexa’s stairwell indiscretion hit the national news circuit. Apparently, the tech world loved that one of their geeky own had conquered the closest thing Vegas had to royalty. The increase had more to do with the fact that he was about to launch a product to expand his business, but his board would say anything to maximize their investment. They’d gone so far as to suggest him making the most out of his relationship with Alexa even though they’d previously been against his friendship with her because of her rep. It was nonsense that he ignored, so he wasn’t about to take their advice on his personal life now, either.

  “You really want to get fake-engaged?” he asked Alexa.

  “You know it would work,” Alexa contended. “Uncle John is madder than I’ve ever heard him. He threatened to sell Halcyon, too, if I didn’t clean this up.”

  It figured. John knew that selling Halcyon would be just the incentive Alexa needed to take the threat seriously.

  “Alexa, I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said, shaking his head.

  He would literally give her the shirt off his back in an ice storm, but they needed to talk about what had happened last night. Unfortunately, now that she’d seen Kelly this morning, Alexa was closed up tighter than one of her casino vaults.

  “Come on, Carter. You’re my best chance to turn this around quickly.”

  “Do you really think that after last night we can be in a fake engagement?” he asked. “Despite you getting scared at the end, we started a physical relationship. And now you’re proposing that we also carry on a fake engagement? That’s blurring the lines immeasurably even for us.”

  “I did not get scared,” she argued. “Besides, the lines won’t get blurry because we won’t be having sex. Problem solved.”

  “Then I’m out.” She was batshit crazy if she thought they were going backward now.

  She was totally running scared. The look in her eyes last night when his mom had called was as if she’d fallen into her own personal horror movie, only the murderer was wielding an engagement ring instead of a gun. If there was a thing he could do to assure her that no matter what, they’d still be friends, he’d do it. She’d wrecked his heart as a kid and he was still here, which was proof they could weather anything. Unfortunately, that probably wasn’t the best example to use to not incite more fear.

  She folded her arms across her chest, lifting her perfect breasts even higher. “So you’re saying that because we nearly slept together you can’t help out your best friend in need? That you’d rather sleep with me than continue our friendship?”

  “Of course I’d rather sleep with you!” he burst out.

  Alexa shook her head, looking disappointed. It pissed him off almost as much as it tugged at his higher sense of integrity.

  “Carter, I really need your help right now.”

  He dropped his head onto the cool slate of his kitchen island, trying to rein in his irritation. Then realizing something, he lifted his head and pointed at her. “Alexa, if we’re fake-engaged and also not sleeping together, that means you can’t sleep with anyone else, either.”

  She shrugged. “I’m okay with it.”

  “Really, Alexa?” he asked doubtfully. “You’re out with a different guy every week.”

  She pointed an angry finger at him, fire back in her eyes at the implication in his words. “We both like to have fun. There’s nothing wrong with it, but it’s not as if I can’t go for a few months without sex.”

  “Months?” Carter croaked, shaking his head. “No fucking way I can do it and no fucking way you can, either.”

  “Do you want to bet?” she challenged, hands on hips.

  “No!” he shouted, throwing his arms up. “That is the worst bet I’ve ever heard! Winning is actually losing!”

  She just rolled her eyes at his outburst, but Christ, a couple of months? Not that he couldn’t do it, but why would he?

  “You can sleep with people if you’re discreet,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. “So are you helping me or not?”

  “You know I am,” he muttered. He also ignored the offer, because any idiot would know it wasn’t true and just a ploy to get him to agree to this ludicrous plan of hers. She was pissed about a sleepover and they weren’t even fake-engaged yet; she’d have his balls in a vise if he actually had sex with someone. “But we need to talk about last night.”

  “I thought last night was amazing,” Alexa offered, surprising him considering that she’d ended it before they got to the best part. “But apparently, it wasn’t amazing enough.”

  Ah, right, he thought, that admission made much more sense now. It was passive-aggressiveness. Something Alexa normally eschewed, which meant she must really be pissed. Good thing she needed him for this fake fiancé thing so badly or he’d probably be hanging from a spit over a fire by now.

  “Alexa,” he said, catching hold of her eyes. “Kelly’s just a girl I hang out with sometimes. You know, in the middle of the night. She showed up and I was pissed at you, but nothing happened. You can call her if you don’t believe me.”

  Alexa didn’t look totally convinced.

  “I want what was happening with us last night to actually happen. I wouldn’t jeopardize that.”

  Shaking her head, she sighed. “Last night was obviously a mistake. I’m already acting like a jealous bitch.”

  “Last night was the best idea we’ve had in years and it’s nice that you’re jealous. I like it. This fake engagement, however, is going to be a mistake of meteoric proportions.”

  “Maybe, but I don’t have a lot of choices,” she acknowledged grimly.

  Despite the fact that this idea was basically turning his life into a dumpster fire, he felt for her position. It wasn’t fair or right that her reputation was damaging the possibility of selling the casinos, and it wasn’t lost on him that she didn’t even want to sell them to begin with. And even if all that weren’t true, he’d still do what she needed him to do because that’s what best friends did.

  “Come here,” he told her, waiting as she hesitated, but finally came to him.

  He pulled her into his arms, threading his fingers through that silky curtain of chestnut hair. “Before we’re officially engaged, let’s at least finish what we star
ted.”

  Before she could argue, he caught her lips. The spark kindled again immediately and he fanned the flames as his tongue tangled with hers. He lifted her onto the kitchen island, right beside her bag of pastries, and stepped between her legs, never breaking contact with her mouth. Her fingers tugged at his hair and his dick throbbed like the devil as they ground against each other. He made easy work of her blouse and bra and threw them to the floor, taking her exposed breasts in his hands, kneading the soft globes and circling the taut nipples beneath his thumbs until she was squirming against him.

  He gave her what she wanted, finally focusing his full attention on her nipples. He pinched them just a little too hard for comfort, and she met his eyes, surprised. He gently pulled one hard nipple and twisted it just the slightest bit to show her he was full of surprises. At her whimper of pleasure, he leaned down and took the pink nub into his mouth, soothing the bit of pain with his tongue.

  Pushing her skirt up, he found her center, hot as hell and dripping with moisture. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her. Fuck the fake engagement shit. Fuck the friendship she was trying to maintain. They weren’t going to make it without blurring the hell out of the lines. He dropped to his knees before he took her right on the island. He slid a finger in her, the sweet smell like a siren’s call for him to devour her. He ran his fingers along her slick clit, increasing the pressure as she clung to him, powerless to the conflagration between them. Eye level with her core, he pulled her panties off, a green thong today. That couldn’t be incidental. Greedy for what it might mean, he pocketed the bit of silky cloth in his shorts. He parted her engorged pink folds, exposing her to the air and to his gaze. Their eyes met as he put his mouth to her, lapping at her, loving the taste, like heat and spice and need.