Best Friends With Benefits (Most Likely To) (12 page)

Alec shot her a knowing smile, an
I’ve been inside you and had you in my mouth
smile.

The kind that had only surfaced this weekend. She attempted to drag in a steady breath, but all her body’s attention had been sucked between her thighs.

Focus on the conversation, Val, focus on the conversation.
“Do you seriously care what I call you?”

“Nicknames are important,” he replied, cracking an egg into the bowl. He turned to the stove and flipped the burner on under the skillet. “I think you know that better than anyone,” he said, tossing a pat of butter in the pan, “Dirty Girl.”

The sizzle mimicked the hiss in Valerie’s belly. Hearing her nickname on his lips sent her spiraling. Made her want to act like the hot, sexy, naughty temptress he believed she was. She steadied herself against the counter, her fingers shuddering to touch him, her body humming like a harmonica, deep and low.

He’d hypnotized her. Those words were like her marching orders now.

She gathered up the sexual strength they gave her. “I earned that nickname.”

He turned to her, his eyes as explosive as lightning.

She forced herself to stare deep and continued. “When I taste the breakfast you made, we’ll see what nickname you get.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Bring it on.”

Potent silence hung between them while he finished cracking the eggs. He turned back to the stove, his ass in dark jeans on display for her as he poured the eggs into the pan. A bit splashed up on him and he stepped back.

“You need an apron, Julia?” She smiled, unable to help herself.

She waited for him to come back with a similar quip, but she was underestimating him. She should have learned that by now.

He removed his shirt and lay it on the barstool. “An apron won’t be necessary.”

Holy Cock-fucius.

Alec shirtless, at the stove with the morning light hitting his broad back, the muscles of his shoulders, was almost too much. His brown hair was matted from his baseball hat, the skin of his neck pink from concentration. He might not know it, but he was creating the morning after of her dreams.

His tattoos seemed to breathe as he worked—the wing of feathers flapping and flying, the vine of thorns growing like ivy. The boiling coffee in her hand was at a lower temperature than her body. She took a long sip of it in an attempt to cool down. “I’m pretty sure that’s a health code violation.” She was trying to keep her words measured, but she was beyond tempted to walk up behind him, turn off the stove, and screw him against it.

“I think you’ll be calling the health department anyway, once you taste
these
.” He indicated the pan.

She pushed herself up on the stool to get a better look. They were the ugliest scrambled eggs she’d ever seen, but because he was making them for her, she couldn’t wait to eat them.

He took the eggs off the stove and served them up on two plates, depositing soggy toast beside them. “Wow,” he said, shaking his head, “who fucks up toast?”

She laughed at his statement, gaped at his still shirtless chest. Had his muscles gotten tauter overnight, his abs more defined? “I’m sure it will taste delicious.”

I’m hungry, all right.

She herded her disobedient eyes to her plate. There was only one dish on the menu that morning.

He took a seat across from her and they ate in silence—the ting of forks, the slurp of coffee, the non-crunch of his toast. It was not gourmet, but they both ate greedily. She wasn’t sure if it was out of hunger or out of uncertainty.

They’d had plenty of silences in their relationship, but it was not lost on her that this silence was new, expectant.

She bit her lip; she shouldn’t be expecting anything. Certainly not what all their flirting this morning would lead to if they were a normal couple. The reminder knocked against her brain—
we are not a normal couple.

“How come we’re not talking?” she finally asked.

Alec’s gaze intensified. “We can talk. What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know,” she blurted, more harshly than she’d intended. “I feel like…” She swallowed, searching for words. “I can’t tell you things the way I used to. Or at least, I think about everything I’m going to say before I say it.”

He fisted a light punch against her chin. “In your case that might not be a bad thing.”

She glanced down, unable to look him in the eye. He wasn’t taking this seriously. He wasn’t taking her seriously—yet another reminder to add to the list.

“Val.” He reached out for her hand, forced her to look at him. His eyes were like caramel in the sunlight. “Nothing has changed. We’re still exactly the same. I can tell you anything, and you can tell me anything.”

She paused, uncertainty scratching at her belly.

“Tell me something,” he pushed.

She exhaled. This was her chance. He was asking, for God’s sake.
I’m having confusing feelings about you. I know I’m supposed to be able to compartmentalize sex and friendship, but both sides are overflowing and mixing together into one big beautiful mess.
No, she couldn’t just say that. She needed him to speak, to prove that nothing had changed.

She jutted her chin out in determination. “You first.”

“I can’t cook,” he admitted, his face spreading into a smile.

She returned it even though she knew he was still playing with her. “That’s no secret.” She allowed the two of them to spin in that carefree haze for only a moment before she gave him a heavy look that demanded more.

He blinked, ran his finger along the rim of his mug, and let out a jerky breath. He was going to tell her something big, something terrible. She braced herself, hoping to hell it wasn’t about her, about them.

“This house”—he opened his hands to indicate the kitchen around him—“is my mother’s.”

Phew, not about her. But why was that huge news? Her face creased in confusion
.

“I bought it for her,” he explained, “so she could finally leave my dad.”

“Alec,” Valerie said, her breath high in her throat, “that was so amazing of you. When is she moving in?”

“She doesn’t want it,” he admitted, his eyes dull. “She doesn’t want to leave him.”

Val’s lungs felt like they had been popped, air shooting up and scratching her throat. “I’m sure if you just told her—”

He held his hand up. “No, it’s been a year. I can’t ask anymore.” His voice was monotone
.

He’d kept this secret from her for a year. She let it sink in, though she understood. There was nothing more embarrassing and hurtful than being rejected by your own mother.

“I’m so sorry.” She knew this was about more than the house. It was Alec trying to save his mother, to do what he couldn’t do as a teenager or a child. He’d admitted a long time ago that his helplessness in the face of his father was his biggest regret.

The paleness that bathed his face pushed her to speak again, suddenly desperate to do anything to wash away his pain. “This isn’t your life anymore, Alec, and maybe your mom knows it. She’s allowing you to leave this behind.”

“I thought I’d escaped. I realize now he’s right here.” He pressed his hand to his temple. “Maybe he always will be.”

His words, his admission, were pulling her face closer—to his cheek, to his jaw, to his lips. Her pulse banged at her neck. She was going to kiss him. He was going to kiss her.

No, she couldn’t—as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t. Once she broke that rule, the confusion would have nowhere left to go but straight to the center of her heart. She somehow managed to pull back.

“There’s one other thing.” Alec reached for her hand and laced his fingers with hers. “I just realized that this attempt at breakfast, at food…” He chuckled. “It wasn’t just about eating or even an excuse to bring you here.”

The stiffness she hadn’t realized she was holding in her shoulders fell.

His chin was in a persistent line
.
“When we were in high school, do you remember how I snuck in and stayed over sometimes?”

She nodded, spooling back to the memory
.
He’d come to her first-floor bedroom window late at night, eyes wet and frightened. He would take his place on her floor, she on her bed, and they would stare at the glow-in-the-dark stars on her ceiling, talking about the future. The lives they could have beyond the walls of their parents’ houses, beyond their stupid town.

It was ironic that a future they’d never even considered, that Val still wasn’t sure of, had brought them right back here—right back into one of their parents’ houses.

“I’d always have to leave when your mom started making breakfast. The smell of coffee was my cue to go,” he said, “my signal refuge was over.”

“Alec,” she managed. Her throat was tight, and warmth welled up in her—a fountain of emotion.

He scrubbed a hand over his face
.
“I might not have realized it until you were sitting across from me in the sun, but having a time where I could have breakfast with you, Val, just once, just the two of us—one time when my refuge didn’t have to end is the only thing that matters right now.”

Her heart seemed to swing like a pendulum; the warmth that had started low deluged her chest and every limb, like she was a maple tree filled with sweet, gooey sap.

She was kissing him
now
. Screw her stupid rules. They couldn’t stop her from this feeling, from this want. From responding to the sweet gesture he’d offered her that morning. She leaned in to him, slowly at first, so he’d know exactly where she was going—for his lips, his sweet, hot, naughty lips.

She brushed against them lightly, testing, but when Alec pressed against her with more force, opened her mouth with his tongue and dove in deep, she could do nothing but meet his demand—nothing but ride to wherever he was taking her.

…

Kissing Valerie
. I am kissing Valerie
—her soft lips, her expert tongue.

It wasn’t where he’d expected this morning to go, but he was finally tasting her, all of her. He drove his lips against hers, their tongues glided and wound, until the kiss became hungry, until the innocent, testing lips they had started with were overwhelmed by their want. Their kiss continued to build, expanding and spiraling down to his cock where the need for her detonated, turned his body to ragged ash.

His lips were unrelenting as his hands cut from her face, down her neck, to cup her tits. His fingers traced over them lightly, as if their first kiss made this new—like they were discovering each other for the first time.

She whimpered under his touch, and he fought the urge to travel beneath her shirt. He wanted this. Holy fucking shit, did he want this, but he needed to hear that she did, too.

Their bodies never said no. Their bodies couldn’t be trusted.

He put his hand to the side of her face, her skin hot and shiny. “If we keep going, I’m going to have to have you naked and panting under me.”

“I know.” She scanned his face. Her eyelashes flitted like butterflies around her big brown eyes.

“I’m not going to break your rules unless you tell me to.”

“You kissed me back,” she said with a sly smile. “That was a rule.”

“I couldn’t not kiss you back, Val. I couldn’t not kiss you,” he admitted. Their bodies were still so close. The skin of his bare chest itched to be against hers.

“Me neither.” Her mouth parted. A mouth he still had the taste of, was still desperate to taste.

He ran his thumb along her jaw. “Truth is, now that you have kissed me, I’m never going to be able to follow that rule again.”

Could their screwing turn sweet like this? In some ways it was what he wanted. To kiss every uncharted inch of her, take his time with her pleasure rather than fuck her hard and fast, but he knew how dangerous that was. If he felt like this after one kiss, how would he feel after making love to her? And fuck, God help him, he wanted to.

But he would take her lead. See if she wanted him, or
all
of him.

She swallowed and he inched closer. “Say the words.” He pressed his cheek to hers, his voice hungry.

“I-I want,” she stammered. “I want you to fuck me.” She slid her hand over his suddenly insanely hard cock.

Question answered. She wanted a fuck. What did he expect? He hadn’t given her a ring—he’d made her breakfast, and he’d told her a secret. While both felt sweet and special to him, neither one was enough to warrant what he couldn’t believe his heart seemed to be asking for.

“Then that’s what you’ll get, Dirty Girl.” He lifted her from the stool and led her into the adjoining living room, depositing her on the white leather sectional. Instead of kissing her again, he stepped back. Turning his mind off and his body on, he was going to give her what she’d asked for.

“Take off your clothes. I want you naked against leather.”

She hesitated.

“You want me to fuck you. I want you naked, now.” His eyes did not leave hers. “Seems an even exchange.”

She lowered her head, but he could tell she was going to acquiesce. She removed her shirt first, her hair tousled in its wake, then her shorts. She stood in front of him in a navy bikini top and matching bottom. The color on her pale skin was like blue dynamite.

“We were supposed to swim at the lake later.” She smiled her explanation.

“I know,” he said. “I’m glad I got to see you in this before anyone else did.” He stepped closer. “I’m fucking thrilled I get to see you out of it.” His fingers swept along her bare stomach. “Hurry.”

She brushed her hair up and unfastened the bikini top. Her tits popped free, perky and perfect in the morning light.

“I will never get over your tits.” He sighed as his eyes took their fill. “Your fucking exquisite body. Show me more. Show me everything.”

She slid her fingers down the taut skin of her waist, slipping her bikini bottom down and off her right foot in one quick motion.

His eyes ravaged her, thankful for the chance to look for as long as he liked. His gaze darted from her creamy shoulders, to her luscious tits, to the manicured patch of hair he couldn’t wait to run his fingers through, to the sweet, wet pussy it accentuated. He was tempted to tell her to turn around so he could stare at her ass uninterrupted, but he knew his hands all over it would be even better.