Near To You (3 page)

“I should...” He nodded back toward her yard where there was still work to be done, but he hadn’t released her hand and she didn’t want him to.

It was a bad idea. Bad. Deena would encourage it which was precisely why she should walk away, lock herself back in her house, and not come out again except to pay him at the end of the day.

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” she asked, certain that wasn’t what she’d been intending to say, but deciding to just go with it.

A beat of silence passed. “Sure.”

Sure.
Sure
. He was staying for dinner. It was...date-like. Happy butterflies whirled around in her stomach, dampening when she realized her cupboards consisted of ramen noodles and not much else. “I should probably
get
food, then.”

“You don’t have to—”

“No, no, I need to. I...” At last she released his hand, peeling her fingers back one by one, and stumbling on not-quite-working-right feet toward the front door. “I’ll grab my purse and do that now. Be back in a bit.”

She had no idea what she was doing, but couldn’t fight the huge grin lighting her face as she rushed back in the house.

Chapter Three

“It’s not a date-date, it’s a he’s-staying-for-dinner thing.” Niara turned the ignition off, pinched the phone between her ear and her shoulder, and unbuckled her seatbelt.

“Staying for dinner is a date-date,” Deena insisted. “Bring condoms.”

Nia sighed. “That’s your middle name.”

“It is,” her friend agreed. “Along with, ‘Show him your boobies.’”

No matter what happened, she sincerely hoped Deena never, ever came to visit. Ever.

Purse in hand, she exited the car and started for the grocery store. “I’ll call you back. I’d rather not have this discussion while I’m deciding on salad.”

“You’d better.”

Niara hung up as she entered the small, simple grocery store. Chill air met her full blast and she shivered as she picked up a basket. Bagged salad kit: check. Fresh loaf of bread: check. Main course, though...something simple, but good. Frozen lasagna? Damn it, she hadn’t even asked him if he had food aversions. He could be vegetarian. Or allergic to gluten. And this tiny store didn’t look like it would have a whole lot of selection.

She opted for two different lasagnas and a stir fry just in case he preferred that instead. Ice cream for dessert. Maybe she could stop for a bottle of wine on the way home.

Nervousness danced in her stomach—a date. A date she was
excited
for. She was grinning as she stepped into the line at the one open checkout till, tapping her feet and clutching her basket handle in both hands. She wanted to call Deena again, but then the whole store—such as it was—would hear the conversation, and in small towns, news traveled fast.

“Now, I don’t think I’ve seen you since high school.”

She started and glanced over her shoulder. Young-ish guy, white with blond hair. Roughly her age though she couldn’t quite place him. Given the grin he gave her, he had no such difficultly and knew her right away, though there were about a dozen women of color in their tiny high school back then, so it wasn’t hard.

“Just moved back,” she said politely. Was he...Miles? Mike? Something like that? She should’ve glanced through her yearbook before venturing into town.

“It’s been years.” He shook his head, hefting the basket from one hand to the other. “Man.” Mischief glinted in his eyes. “Quite the timing you have.”

“Oh?”

“My buddy...you remember Brady Trewin?”

Dread plummeted in her gut and she thought she nodded but couldn’t be sure. “Vaguely.”

“He had such a thing for you in high school. We thought he was going to say something before you moved. Man, he’s gonna kick himself—he’s moving tomorrow. Crazy timing.”

He’s what?
“Where’s he going?”

Miles or Mike or whoever shrugged. “Don’t know. Cross country, see if he can find work out west. He’s been planning for about two years now.”

“Ma’am,” the cashier called, but it was a moment before Niara got her head on straight and shuffled over to unpack her grocery basket.

He was leaving. Tomorrow. Why the hell was he even working today?

Because he had a crush on you in high school
.

It was years ago but it was true, she remembered him hanging around a lot. He ran errands for the paper, got some of the basketball players to sit down for an interview with her. And come to think of it, he was always around for those sessions, ready to help. The way he looked at her today, the way he kissed her—the pieces all clicked into place.

And even as the strange realization hit her, like blinders lifting from her vision...her stomach twisted in knots.

She
liked
Brady Trewin. She hadn’t felt like this in years, not since she first met Ron. Maybe not even then. Her heart thumped sickly and she swallowed a lump in her throat as she watched the clerk ring through her groceries. She went through the motions of bringing out her debit card and paying, then packing everything in a brown paper bag.

“Hey, I’ll see you around,” the guy called from her behind her.

She flashed a smile and nodded, then left the store in a daze. Once she was back in her car, grocery bag on the seat next to her, she pulled out her phone and dialed Deena again.

“Did you get condoms?” her friend answered.

“He’s leaving.”

“Already? But you didn’t get his pants off yet.”

Jeez
. “No, he’s leaving town. For good.
Tomorrow
.”

“This is perfect!”

Clearly Deena had somehow missed precisely what was going on. “Are you listening to me? I like him. I have a dinner date with him. I would like
more
dates with him. And he’s moving out west.
Tomorrow
!”

“So go back there and
kiss him
. One night, honey. That’s it, and it’ll be easier since he’ll be gone tomorrow. One night to let go and fuck some hot guy and get it out of your system. We both know Ron screwed your head up. Big time. But you need this.”

And I want this
. She was both terrified and aroused by the thought, of heading home and leading him to her bedroom and tasting him, touching him, all afternoon and night. And Deena was right—it just might be easier—because she was already thinking it. Planning it. Contemplating if it was possible.

Plus he had a crush on her in high school. If he was still attracted to her now...

Damn it, how had she gone from being mortified at the thought to actively planning to sleep with Brady Trewin?

Her eyes closed and she remembered his lips on hers, the feel of his fingertips dragging up her cheek, the way his body covered her, owned her. Her breasts ached, wanting his touch, and her pussy clenched—she hadn’t felt this aroused in years.

“He’ll go for it,” Deena continued, perhaps feeling the silence was an invitation to do so. “He’s a man, it’s his last night in town. Just ask him.”

Right. Ask him.
So Brady, how would you like to fuck like bunnies for the rest of the day?
“I can’t ask him that.”

“Be seductive. Bat your eyelashes, flash some cleavage. You’re lucky you even have boobs to wave at him.”

Niara chuckled. “Your breasts are fine.”

“Bullshit. Now my ass, that’s definitely a double D.”

She rubbed at her eyes and sighed. “I have no idea how to do this.”

“It’s easy. First? Buy condoms.”

****

The yard was mostly tidy. Flowerbeds were ready for plants, excess leaves raked and composted. Brady hadn’t yet fixed her swing but waited to find out where she might want it, or if she planned to have the whole porch fixed first. It was early afternoon and there were plenty of hours left.

Hours he should be spending finalizing things. Checking in with his sister and her family. Maybe running by his dad’s place, though the old man had barely spoken to either of his kids in two years. He could have a few beers with friends, or just crash early.

Instead he was waiting to have dinner with Niara.

The words had hovered on his lips when she offered, but the idea of saying no never occurred to him. She looked so hopeful, so unsure. The taste of her still lingered on his lips and he could close his eyes and feel her again, responding to his touch.

Jesus. If he stayed for dinner and everything continued going well, he didn’t have a damn clue how he’d just drive away tomorrow. His place was packed up, nearly everything either given to the Salvation Army or put in a small storage unit which he paid for a year’s worth of rent already. He could head to his sister’s, yes, if he suddenly decided to stay in town, but what then? Find somewhere else to live? Wait and see if things developed with Niara? And what if it just fizzled? The whole thing was crazy.

Crazy. But then so had been kissing her. If he hadn’t, maybe he could’ve walked away. But now...

He shook his head, stripped off his gloves, and walked around the house. Sun beat down, throbbing against the back of his neck. He should head home and shower, but not until he knew what else she might want him for. At the very least, he’d like to wash up, but he didn’t feel right going in her home while she was gone, so he headed for the garden hose wounded against the side of the house. It was bright green with a new head, something she must’ve purchased and added after moving in because it stood out starkly from the rest of the rather beat-up house. The water sputtered on, cold and clear, and he ran it over both of his hands first, then leaned over and soaked the back of his neck and hair. With the sun that hot, he’d dry soon, and at least he felt less grubby.

Movement flashed in his peripheral vision, and he glanced to see Niara approaching. His heart sped at the sight; he turned the water off and stood straight.

Her wide eyes glanced over him once, growing cloudy. Lips parted, but for a moment she said nothing. A big brown grocery bag was clutched tightly in her arms, shielding her torso like armor. The four feet between them gaped, tension crackling in the air, and the way she looked at him, he remained certain she was about to ask him to leave.

“I’m divorced,” she said suddenly.

His brain wasn’t quite working, perhaps, because he wasn’t sure what she was—

“That’s why I moved back. My husband...wasn’t a very good husband. He cheated on me and put me down and I left him.”

And I want to beat the ever-loving
shit
out of him
. Whoever the guy was, he deserved it.

“I’m blurting this out like an idiot because I’m...I feel like I’m a little messed up. I’ve tried a bunch of dates and they didn’t work. I’m still repairing me. But I wondered if you’d...”

Anything
. He nearly said it, too—anything, for her.

“I don’t know that I’m ready for...something serious, or dating, or anything like that—not while I’m still getting myself back together. But I wondered if you’d stay and maybe just...have one night. With me. For...whatever develops.”

He stared at her.

One night. With Niara Morgan.

She’d been married at some point during these past few years. Of course, something major must’ve happened to send her back home out of the blue. No wonder she got quiet, distant when he asked earlier—no wonder she looked so damn surprised with herself when she asked him for dinner. Ready for something approaching a relationship, no, but he understood now what she asked—her body was definitely ready for more. He’d felt her reaching for him, yearning for him, burning through her clothes, and he went rock hard at the thought. His heart sped again, body heating up and making it difficult to breathe.

One night. He was leaving anyway, wasn’t he?

Right?

Chapter Four

Niara trembled around the grocery bag in her arms.

It was so, so much harder than she thought it would be and now she felt like a goddamn fool. Was she really asking the poor guy if he’d throw her a pity fuck on his last night in town? Stupid! She was utterly mortified and should’ve at least waited to ask him
after
dinner, where he could politely leave if he was weirded out.

Oh God. Oh
God
. Such a bad idea.

Deena was dead. So, so dead. Dead, wrapped in plastic, and buried in the—

“I have one question.” His deep, dark voice sent shivers through her.

“What?” she trembled around the word.

He started forward with long, languid steps. “Does this afternoon count too?”

Niara was too busy wrapping her head around that when he reached and grasped her chin, tilting her face up to his as his lips consumed hers.

She was lost in him—in his mouth moving on hers, his conquering tongue invading and tasting, his hands raking through her hair. The grocery bag thumped on the ground at her feet, paper crackling, and she was stepping back, back, back as he walked her against the side of the house. Her spine hit the wall and she arched into him, relishing the feel. He stood a head taller than her and she rose on her tiptoes, meeting every thrust of his tongue, every movement of his lips. Her fingers moved over his broad, strong shoulders, and up to twine with his damp hair.

Hands traveled down her body—her neck, her shoulders, skimming down to her breasts where his thumbs brushed her hardened nipples. She moaned, every contact sending fire through her, and his lips left hers to trace down her throat. Somewhere her rational brain might be questioning getting felt up by a guy against the side of her house where any car driving by might see them, but the road had been mostly deserted all day and she honesty couldn’t bring herself to care.

Dimly, Nia was aware her hips were undulating against his, feeling the hard length of his cock through their layers of denim, delirious with wanting to feel it moving against her, moving in her. His hands and lips worshipped her, drinking in her flesh with every kiss, every touch, and she felt more desirable than she had in...God, she didn’t know how long.

She moved her hands down to grasp the bottom of his damp shirt and drag it up, revealing toned and corded muscles, gleaming in the bright sunlight. She cast the shirt aside and ran her hands over him, feeling the soft skin stretched over his hard body, enjoying the feel, the way he shuddered and panted with her every touch.

He caressed her breasts again, one forefinger and thumb finding her nipple and rolling it in exquisite pleasure-pain while his other hand traveled between them to cup her mound.

Niara gasped. Parted her lips, struggled to think of what she wanted to say. “The bag. There are condoms.”

Brady paused his mouth by her throat and she could all but feel him smiling. “Not needed yet.”

Damn it, why not?
She blinked her eyes open to an assault from the bright sun overhead and moved so he was standing straight again, looking down at her. Blue eyes heavy-lidded and pupils dilated, he watched her sudden intake of breath and little shudder as he deftly popped open the button on her jeans and eased the zipper down. Her eyes grew wide and despite the happy flood of endorphins rushing through her and the yearning for his touch, tension gripped her. It was never like this with anyone, not even with Ron during their four year marriage—she never stood out in the daylight, pinned against the side of a house, with a man about to stick his hand down her panties while she watched.

“We can stop,” he whispered, and pressed his lips to her temple.

Oh to hell with that.
“Don’t,” she returned softly.

He met her gaze again, left hand still teasing her breast, right easing along the elastic band of her panties. “Don’t?”

She was panting already and he’d barely touched her yet. “Don’t stop.”

His lips descended on hers in a gentle, sensuous kiss as his fingers skimmed under her panties, over her quivering flesh, and eased into her slick warmth. He traced her slit once, twice, then the third time dipped deeper and grazed up to her clit.

Her entire body shuddered, an electric charge working through her at the contact.

Brady’s forehead pressed against hers as their lips parted. “Jesus, you feel good. You’re wet.” He moved against her clit again, harder this time, and her hips rocked against his hand.

A chuckle rose but she was panting too much and it died in her throat. “All...” She swallowed—she didn’t talk about these things, didn’t admit these things, but damn if she didn’t want to, with him. “All fucking morning.”

He kissed her again as his fingers caressed her slit, moving back and forth, back and forth, and then deeper. One finger sank into her, thrusting as she worked against him, and his other hand dragged the front of her tank top down and descended into her white lacy bra.

A warm wind brushed over them but she felt little of it, consumed by his heat. Her nails bit into his arms, holding on as a second finger joined the first, pumping into her. So much sensation—she was so close,
so
damn close... “Oh God.”

“Open your eyes,” he whispered and she did, looking up into his intense stare, his eyes dark with desire. His panting breath touched her lips and when his gaze traveled down, hers did as well—over his hand rolling her breast and rubbing her nipple, down over her belly to where his fingers were buried in her panties, working in her wet heat. Just inches away, his cock strained his jeans, hard and jutting up.

She met his gaze again and she could imagine it—imagine him moving inside her, filling her.

“Come for me,” he said hoarsely. His thumb touched down on her clit and she did, exploding and shattering, coming completely undone as she rode wave after wave climax brought. Breath left her and stars played behind her eyes; she slumped and he caught her, fingers easing out of her panties and bra, bracing her upright with both arms.

She couldn’t speak for several long moments, exhausted and lightheaded, head pressed against his chest and feeling the rapid beat of his heart. At last she whispered, “That was...” A sigh. “Yeah.”

He kissed her temple, mouthed her ear, and shifted her head up to trace her jaw with his lips. “If you want to sit down, I’ll get you a drink and fix your swing.”

She glanced up at him with a wry grin. “Pretty sure you’re off the clock.”

“I am, and I’d work for you free anyway. But sit down and relax, I’ll put your groceries inside, and look at that swing.” He zipped her jeans up for her, rearranged her tank top, and kissed her once more, igniting yet another charge down her spine.

Rest. Yes, she could do that—they had a long evening ahead of them.