Once Upon a Sure Thing (Page 32)

If she only knew why I need her like this. Because I’ve wanted her for years, and when I sink back into her, it occurs to me that maybe I’ve been falling in love with her for six years too.

Six years.

And now I’m here, and all this touching has unlocked all these feelings.

Feelings I don’t know what to do with.

So I do as asked.

I take her.

I want to take her and keep her, and I know that as I fuck her, I’m making love to her.

It can never be anything else with my Ally, my Honey, my woman.

Soon, she’s nearing the cliff again, then she’s soaring off, crying out, and I give in too, as pleasure barrels down my spine, curling tight in me till I come hard inside her.

The ecstasy blots out the complete and absolute mess in my head.

Chapter 27

Ally

I order Vietnamese like a champion, and then we play Bananagrams as we wait for the delivery, making it through four words before we kiss again. The kiss lasts a few minutes, then I sink to the floor, bring him into my mouth once more, and treat him to another blow job as he sits back on the couch, moving my head up and down between his legs.

When he comes, my cell rings, and it has to be the food delivery. Flailing my arm, I grab for the phone, checking the number, then hand it to Miller.

“Yessssss,” he says on a final moan as I suck him dry. “Come on up.”

Perfect timing.

We eat, then we drink wine, then we return to my bed, and he kisses me everywhere. I’m pretty sure I’ll be sore tomorrow, and I’m pretty sure I don’t care about anything but the way he treasures my body.

I run my fingers over the inked notes on his hip, humming a few words from one of the Heartbreakers’ most popular songs. “All I want is to find you again . . .”

A slow and peaceful grin spreads on his face, and he answers me, crooning softly, “Even if that’s crazy.”

My thumb slides higher over the artwork on his body. “Tell me, tell me . . . I haven’t lost you.”

He beats out a gentle rhythm on my belly. “Tell me I’m not crazy.”

I cease the singing. Maybe because it’s not our song. Or maybe because it’s skating perilously close to words that might overwhelm this fragile thread between us.

* * *

As the night crawls past midnight, we slide under the covers, and we don’t stop.

We are wild, hungry creatures, needing more. More contact. More touch. More of each other.

I pull him on top of me. “I like every position so far, but I really like looking at you, Miller.”

“Baby,” he groans, and closes his eyes as he enters me.

I wrap my legs around his hips, bringing him as close as I can. Our slick, sweaty bodies slide against each other. In the dark, in the absolute bliss detached from all reason and responsibility, the hope inside me dares to swell again. The way he touches me makes me feel so rich with love that I want to blurt out everything. To tell him I want him in my life every night.

When I’m scarily close to breathing the most dangerous words, he goes so deep in me that I see heaven.

My brain turns into a delicious haze of lust and love as I surrender once more, and he joins me. When he tugs me against him, and I curl into his arms, all I want is to let this perfect night stay absolutely perfect.

Once the sun rises, I’ll find a way to make sense of the emotions occupying all the space in my heart.

For now, I have Miller’s arms around me.

* * *

My refrigerator is a desolate wasteland. My belly is the maw of a shark, growling and chomping.

“How is this possible?” Miller scratches his head as he considers the empty shelves that mock our rumbling morning tummies. His rumpled hair after a night in my bed is adorably sexy, and I riffle my hand through the strands. He harrumphs as he paws at a loaf of bread nearing the end of its life. “Why do you hate food so much?”

Laughing, I park my hands on my hips. “I’m a New Yorker. I’ve found all the cheap takeout and delivery in the city. It’s an art form that makes the fridge irrelevant.”

He squeezes my ass. “But don’t you know you have to have eggs and coffee for your man after you fuck him senseless?”

I imitate a ruler, standing straight and tall.

My man?

He means my friend, right?

He rubs the pad of his thumb across my cheek, taking my focus away from dissecting the finer meanings of his words. “How about we take a quick shower and grab a bagel? You can feed me that way.”

I nod quickly. That, I understand. Bagels are what we’ve always done. That’s the breakfast of friends.

I glance at the time on the stove. “Let’s be speedy. Chloe should be back in an hour, then I’m taking her to Brooklyn to spend the day with Kirby and Macy while I finish some work.”

He points to the bathroom. “Get your cute little ass in the shower.”

* * *

As he washes my hair with strong but tender hands, the questions return.

Are these the hands of my man?

Or my friend?

Or my temporary man?

My head says “friends with benefits,” but my heart screams something else entirely. Something I can’t quite make out over the rushing of the hot water.

When he rinses my hair, I decide to broach the subject in a roundabout way. “I like the hair washing. Is this another benefit?”

I turn my head, meeting his gaze briefly. He blinks, furrowing his brow, then he flashes a smile. “Of course.”

And that’s no help.

In the back of my mind, I hear the clock ticking. We haven’t discussed an end date to this arrangement. But there has to be one. “Friends with benefits” comes with an expiration.

Just like our band does.

My heart sinks as I put two and two together. I’ve known this all along. But I never let myself truly consider when this newfangled deal would end.

Miller is a short-term kind of guy. He didn’t even want to commit to singing with me for longer than a month, so it’s no surprise that this deal will be incredibly short too.

He clearly didn’t mean anything more when he said he was my man. Just like when he turns me against the wall, pushes my palms to the tiles, and slides his fingers between my legs—that doesn’t mean anything more than a fast track to temporary bliss.

Even as he whispers sweet nothings in my ear.

You feel so good.

I could do this over and over.

This is the best way to wake up.

They are merely weightless words. They have no anchor to tie them to the future. They’re part of our deal, and deals always end.

Even so, his words try to trick me, so I do my best to quell the riot in my heart when he whispers, Love the way you feel in my arms. Fortunately, forgetfulness is easier when an orgasm overwhelms me, pulling me into its euphoric haze.

After we get dressed, we head down the stairs. Wrapping my scarf tightly around my neck to brace against the chill, I let the door to the building fall shut behind me and walk straight into Chloe.

And Hailey.

And Hailey’s mother.

“Hi, Ally.” Hailey speaks first.

I freeze on the sidewalk, my eyes widening like saucers as I regard the three of them. Am I wearing a sign that says “I got laid last night when my kid slept at your kid’s house”?

Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

But still. It’s kind of . . . tacky.

Shucking off the invisible slut-shaming sign, I call on my best rogue princess warrior, raise my chin, and say good morning to Hailey’s mom, who I met the other night. “Good to see you again, Jesse.”