Every Breath You Take (The Every Breath Duet Book 1) Page 13

  My lips broadened with a smile. He brought out the best in me and I was okay with giving him that power. He was no longer a stranger. Our bodies had danced the most intimate of dances. I’d been terrified to open my heart to that again, but with Bryce, it came easily. Unexpected, for sure, but effortless all the same.

  An alarm sounded from his phone and he rustled next to me.

  I’d been up a good fifteen minutes, ogling, but there was no sunlight to welcome the new day. It was raining outside, heavy drops pounding against the windows, a most uninviting greeting to the morning.

  “Ugh, what time is it?” He groaned with his face still nestled against my chest.

  “Apparently, it’s time for you to get your fine ass up and at ’em.” I peered over his head to the mound of firm muscle peeking out from the blanket.

  Bryce was quick to cover the exposed skin and climb atop my body in one fluid motion. “Can we not adult today? It’s raining. That definitely justifies staying in this spot all. Damn. Day.” He kissed me between words—my neck, my cheek, my lips.

  I giggled with each feather-light touch and pulled back, shaking my head. “While I love the sound of that, no can do, doc.”

  He deflated onto me, his head resting at the rounded hill created by my barely hidden breasts. “How cruel can life be? To giveth a bounty as plentiful as this and then taketh away?” He cupped my boobs to demonstrate his so-called bounty, eliciting yet another string of giggles from me.

  “I’ll give you plentiful. And stop right there before things . . . escalate.” I could already feel the threat of his morning wood against my thigh.

  “Why?” He brought one hand up to trace the edge of my jaw with his index finger. “Had enough of me last night?”

  “Barely,” I whispered, jerking my hips upward to torture him.

  He groaned in delight, bit his lip and rolled his eyes, only to disappear under the blanket. Within seconds his warm breath danced across my stomach, his mouth seeking out his favorite new possession.

  “Bryce!” I squealed when he stiffened his tongue and flicked it against my already pulsing clit. “I . . . you . . . we have work,” I moaned.

  “Work can wait.” It was a muffled excuse. “I want my breakfast first.”

  Oh, this man. What is he doing to me? My question was soon answered when he sucked my tender flesh into his mouth, suctioning my lips and then directing his efforts to the core. The spot. The one place that would send me into a fit of frenzy all over again, as if last night had never ended. As if we would be in a constant state of pleasuring each other from here on out.

  Who would object? Who would be crazy enough to complain about any of this? Certainly not me. No, he could spend the rest of his days between my legs, if that’s what he wanted. He could feast on me for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if he continued to do it so well.

  “Oh, God!” I clenched my thighs against his face. The sweet ache was almost too much. Almost.

  “That’s it.” His words vibrated against me. “Give it to me. Give me what I want.”

  It was as if he craved it. It seemed he loved this as much as I did. Now was not the time to compare, but from what I understood, finding a man who found pleasure in going down on a woman was something to be celebrated. And, hell, I would celebrate Bryce’s mouth and his thirst for my release all the live long day. On the days I didn’t have to work, of course.

  Luckily—or not, depending on how you looked at it—I came for him in minutes. He lingered between my legs until every last shudder dissolved and my cries mellowed into silent exhalations.

  When he was done and I was replete, he rose from the couch, admiring my afterglow as he towered over me. “I hope that’ll keep me on your mind all day.”

  I thrashed my head to the side and closed my eyes. “Mmmm.” The satisfied groan was muffled by the cushions, but when I returned my gaze to Bryce, I could tell he knew exactly how good he’d wrecked me.

  In a flash, Bryce was dressed. He leaned down to kiss me good-bye, first on the forehead, then on my lips. I licked mine to savor his taste, and looked up at him through batting lids.

  “When can we do this again?”

  His grin was devious and adorable at the same time. “I told you I’d stay here all day.”

  “Let me restate that: Are you free Saturday night?”

  “What’s wrong with tomorrow?” His brows scrunched into a V.

  “Working ’til two and then house hunting with Sam afterward.”

  He scrunched his nose and pouted. “Guess Saturday it is. Will you be by the hospital before then to see your mom?”

  I pulled the blanket up higher at the thought of my mother spending her days in a hospital bed while I fooled around with her doctor like a careless teenager. “I’ll be there tonight when I’m done at the salon. Will you?”

  Shoving his foot into his shoe, he looked up. “I’m off site tonight for a conference but when I get in today, I’ll check in on her and text you with an update, okay?”

  “Yes, thank you.” I stood and wore the blanket like an oversized toga, walking toward him. “I’ll see you out.”

  He followed behind my train of fleece as I led him to the front door. Just before opening it, I turned to him. “I had a great time last night.”

  “And this morning?” He winked.

  “Yes, that, too. But it was more than just . . . that. I had a great time—with you.”

  With a soft chuckle he closed the distance between us. He kissed the tip of my nose, infiltrating my senses with the scent of the cologne that lingered on his clothing and the evidence of us being together all night long. “I did, too. Thank you for a lovely dinner and . . . the best date I’ve ever had.” His whisper tickled my ear.

  I nuzzled against him, savoring the moment. It was a special one I would commit to memory and play back throughout the day when I needed a boost of energy.

  When I could feel my body tingling again at Bryce’s nearness, my lack of proper clothing adding to the stimulation, I withdrew from his embrace and crept the front door open. “Parting is such sweet sorrow, Romeo.” My bottom lip was at the mercy of my teeth as I pouted my farewell.

  “Ah, Shakespeare. A true romantic. A girl after my own heart.” He clutched his chest and stepped outside backwards. “Adieu! Until we meet again . . . aka Saturday.”

  I caught the air-kiss he blew my way and giggled at his dramatic bow. As he walked to his car and drove away, I watched on like a lovesick Juliet.

  In the shower I found little reprieve from my heated fantasies. You would think after more than a handful of toe-curling orgasms I’d be good for at least twenty-four hours.

  Yeah. Well. Nope.

  I could not get the sensual images out of my head—Bryce’s head between my legs, his fingers tracing the inside of my thighs, his hands groping my breasts, that beautiful, thick cock riding me to insanity.

  “Uhhhh, God.” I exhaled and pressed my head against the wet tile. The hand that brought all of those images back to life only moments ago swung limply at my side. This wasn’t something I did often. I was actually a little ashamed for giving in to the temptation of pleasuring myself. But there was no way I would be able to go to work and survive the throbbing ache Bryce’s memory left me with.

  My shower went longer than expected and the water started to cool. I quickly rinsed off one more time and turned the faucet to stop the stream. A giddy haze hindered my actions, but thankfully I was on autopilot as I did my thing in the bathroom and wrapped a towel around my body. Wiping the foggy steam from the mirror, I looked ahead and smiled at the reflection staring back at me.

  A dewy glow and rosy cheeks, a satisfied smile. Maybe you really could tell when someone got laid the night before simply by looking at them. I was pretty sure the moment I stepped outside this house the first person I came in contact with would be blatantly aware of how I spent my evening.

  I sashayed—yes, sashayed—out of the bathroom and toward my bedroom, humming a m
ade-up tune. Long wet locks of freshly washed hair clung to my bare back, drizzles traveling down my skin in tiny rivulets. I combed it through with my fingers, shaking out the excess water as I stepped off the hardwood floor of the hallway and onto the plush carpet of my room.

  “Someone definitely got lucky last night.”

  “Holy mother of God!”

  Sam lay sprawled atop my bed, his hands folded behind his head as if it were totally natural for him to be there. My heart was in my throat and yet he was cracking up at my expense. What a great friend.

  I would clock him if my hands weren’t in a vice grip around the skimpy towel I clutched against my trembling body.

  “Are you crazy? How did you get in and why are you here?”

  “Still have the spare key, and I’m the one who should be asking the questions.”

  “Seriously, Sam?” I turned my back to him to grab a pair of panties from my top dresser drawer. “I have to get dressed. I have work.” This game of Surprise London was getting old.

  “Really?” I spun around just in time to catch his sly expression. “’Cause it didn’t sound like you were in such a rush during your shower.”

  No! Tell me he didn’t hear me. Oh. My. God. My face turned hot with embarrassment—and fury. “Sam! I thought I was alone! You can’t keep barging in like this! What if Bryce were still here?”

  He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, hands on knees, his stare penetrating. “What if Bryce were still here? You never cared when I barged in before. Not here, not at yours and Hunter’s place. Why now? Why him?”

  I rolled my eyes and tightened my fists. “You really are insufferable, you know that?”

  “Actually, I can think of far better words to describe me, like sexy, handsome . . .” He was standing now, fiddling with random knickknacks on the bookshelves at the opposite side of the room.

  I was furious with Sam and his newfound sense of entitlement toward me. I stormed toward him and ripped the ballerina snow globe from his hands, tossing it over my shoulder and onto the bed. Luckily, it bounced to the center, unharmed. It was special to me, a gift from Hunter when we first started dating.

  “Sam, go home and give me back my key.”

  “Not happening.” He stared at the cleavage peeking out from my towel and plopped back down on my bed. “You’re just mad I overheard your pleasure party for one. Did the good doctor not get the job done last night?”

  Oh, if he only knew. “Uh, totally not so, but . . .” I wasn’t about to kiss and tell while my hair was still dripping wet and I was only wearing a towel. “Can I please get some privacy so I can get to work? You’re acting like a gossipy chick, Goodwin.”

  Sam’s green eyes went wide and unexpectedly turned a shade darker than I was used to seeing on him. He left the comfy perch of my mattress and strode toward me with purpose. “Let’s get one thing straight: I’m no chick. I’m very much a virile man who would never leave a woman aching for more. And the only reason I didn’t join you in the shower and take matters into my own hands was because I didn’t want to make you feel like a slut for giving it up to two different guys in the same twenty-four-hour period.”

  “What the actual . . . Sam, are you high?” I backed away from his predatory stance, utterly baffled. Maybe it was me, but lately it seemed as if he was awfully free with his words—especially the sexual innuendos. Never in our entire friendship, other than during that one year in high school, had I felt as though Sam was interested in sleeping with me. But now? Geez, did he really think of me like that? Would he have actually jumped into the shower with me?

  “Relax, London. I can smell your wheels turning from here.” His snide chuckle broke my innermost thoughts, but the fact still remained that he was sending mixed signals these days.

  “Oh, I’m relaxed. I’m just . . . confused.” We’d always been honest with each other. Now should be no different.

  He tilted his head in question.

  “Don’t act all innocent, Sam. You’re being . . . weird. Do you mean anything by the flirting or are you just being possessive of your best friend?”

  “I’ve always been possessive of you, London. Maybe I didn’t show it as much when you were with Hunter, but it was always there and it will never go away, no matter who you’re with. The other stuff . . .” He paused and looked down at his feet, rubbing the back of his head. “I didn’t get much, uh, action in Beijing. Having a bit of a dry spell. I’m busting your balls because I’m fucking jealous you’re getting some and I’m not.”

  I had to laugh at that. “And how exactly do you know I’m getting some?”

  He shot me a look that screamed, ‘are you serious?’ “A blind person could tell you had sex last night. And being that I’m not blind—or deaf—it’s obvious you’re . . . happy. The only thing that’s changed since the breakup is Bryce, so I have to assume it’s him. I’m trying to be supportive. I missed so much while I was away and I feel terrible I wasn’t here when you needed me most. I’m a shitty friend for allowing you to fall into the arms of another man when it should have been my arms comforting you.”

  I almost broke out in a long, heartfelt awwwww. I mean, how could I be mad at him for anything when it was clear how much I meant to him? His undying concern for me, now and throughout the years, only solidified the reason I chose him as my best friend back when we were little kids. Best decision of my life.

  A flood of euphoric emotions pummeled me all at once. “Come here, you stalker.” I opened my arms, confident the towel wasn’t going anywhere, and motioned for Sam to sink into my embrace.

  He did, wrapping a strong set of biceps and forearms around me and giving in to the love-fest. “I’m so happy you’re okay, London.”

  “Me, too.”

  We remained that way for a minute or two, making up for lost time, grateful that we were finally together again. I released my grip and started to pull away, but Sam grabbed both of my elbows and locked me in place.

  “If this one hurts you, I’ll kill him. Now, go get dressed before I rip this towel off and put a quick and pleasant death to my never-ending dry spell.”

  MY FEET ACHED from a full day of work. I wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and catch up on the sleep I hadn’t received because of Bryce, but I made a promise to my mother and I wasn’t about breaking it.

  She’d sounded really good over the phone this afternoon, only requesting something other than hospital food for tonight’s meal. As exhausted as I was, I happily made a stop for takeout on the way to see her. It was the least I could do. I missed her warm, cheery presence at home and looked forward to spending quality time together. Not that dining beside her hospital bed could be considered quality, but I’d take what I could get if it meant seeing her face.

  Yawning, I clutched the paper bag that held Mom’s favorite French onion soup and a turkey club and pressed the elevator button. The tempting aroma of crisp bacon from my BLT caused my stomach to growl with hunger pangs. I hadn’t eaten since noon time when I quickly scarfed down a granola bar during the afternoon rush. Thursdays were always busy with the old biddies in town getting their hair-dos in for the weekend, but today it seemed as though I washed over a hundred heads of hair, a never ending flow of shampoo, rinse, and repeat.

  By the time the elevator doors pinged open to Mom’s floor, I was clenching my eyes shut to wish away the images of my fingers massaging countless scalps. I exited the empty car and was greeted by a friendly smile from one of the residents who worked with Bryce on my mother’s case.

  “She’s been waiting for you,” she sang with a sideways grin.

  “I know. I ran a little late. Terrible daughter.”

  “Psssh.” She flapped her hand. “You’re wonderful. You’d be surprised how many kids leave their parents here to rot. I wish my mom was still around; I think that’s why I’ve taken such a liking to Ella. She reminds me of her.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” I offered, empathizing with her. Doctor Brons
on was about the same age as me, so I imagined her mother passed well before her time. I hated to think that would eventually be me. Ever since Mom was diagnosed, it seemed as if her time on this Earth was that much more precious, vulnerable. I couldn’t picture losing her, but it was naïve to think she was invincible.

  “Thank you. Now, go on.” She pointed to the bag of food in my hands. “You don’t want to keep Ella waiting any longer. I’m certain you’re the highlight of her day.” With that she winked and I smiled in return.

  It was comforting to know my mother was in good hands. Between the nursing staff, the residents on his team and Bryce, of course, I was confident she was receiving the absolute best care possible. Now, if only my brother would get back to me about being tested as a donor. I made a mental note to check my email and try contacting him again as I walked past the nurses’ station and approached Mom’s room.

  “There you are,” she bellowed before I even put one foot over the threshold.

  “Sorry I’m so late. Work was a nightmare and I’m freaking exhausted.” My muscles were sore and weary, fighting every motion, no matter how small. It was no doubt a combination of working my ass off at the salon and having the rest of my body worked out by Bryce last night.

  I hid the wicked smile that curled my lips as I rolled the food tray over from the corner and placed the bag on it. Uncrumpling it, I neatly arranged our meal before us, pouring two cups of water with a dramatic sigh.

  “You feeling okay, baby? You didn’t have to come tonight. I know you’re busy and I hate being a burden.” Mom’s forlorn expression dug at my gut. I should have walked in here all smiles and ‘Hey, Ma! Good to see you!’ Instead, I’d dragged my feet and huffed and puffed since entering the room. My mother was battling a disease and I was pissy over losing a few hours of sleep—for incredible sex. Get your scruples in check, missy!