Spider

I bite my lip. “I’m kinda in a hurry . . . I have a test I really should study for.”

He runs his hand down my neck. “Don’t make me beg to spend more time with you.”

“Spider—”

He cuts me off and kisses me, his tongue tangling with mine as his hand slips under the duvet and cups my ass, pulling me against him. “This . . . this is what I want. Tell me you want me too.”

“I do,” I moan.

Every coherent thought I have flies out the window.

He knows he has me.

Spider

WITH MY BLUE-MIRRORED AVIATORS AND a Yankees baseball cap pulled low over my eyes, I feel fairly incognito as I saunter out of the building and make my way down the street to the bakery to get Rose and I breakfast. I stop at the corner and see a shabbily dressed older man sitting on an old milk crate and playing a ukulele. He has a hungry look about him with gaunt features and a scraggly bit of gray scruff. His eyes are red and bleary.

That might have been me someday.

The small mutt that lounges beside the music man barks at me, as if reading my thoughts, making me smirk. I stop in front of him, getting jostled around, yet determined to stay and listen as the old man plays a little tune that sounds familiar, though I can’t place it. I drop a hundred down in his open case.

He looks up at me. “May you find joy and happiness today.”

I nod, turning to reply to him as I walk away. “Already have, and she’s gorgeous.”

I jog down to the bakery and stock up on a few things I think she might like—two croissant sandwiches with egg and bacon, several blueberry scones, and two strawberry muffins. On impulse, I grab some freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. We worked up a bit of an appetite last night, and I, for one, am starving.

“Hey, don’t I know you?” the barista asks me as I pay in cash.

“Nope.”

She narrows her eyes, studying me as she wraps up the cookies and adds them to the bulging bag of goodies. She eyes the tattoo on my neck. “You look like that guy Spider from Vital Rejects.”

“Who?” I ask, plastering a bemused expression on my face.

She cocks her head. “Yeah, you’re like his doppelganger.”

Just give me my change, I think.

She leans in conspiratorially. “You can tell me. I won’t tell anyone.”

I exhale. “Yes, I’m Spider.” After all, it’s pretty obvious with the tattoo.

“OH MY GOD,” she squeals.

I hold my hands up, motioning for her to quiet down. People are staring.

She licks her lips and flicks a strand of hair over her shoulder. “Hey, you know, you’re my free pass.”

My brow furrows. “Is that some kind of free coffee thing?”

She giggles. “No, it means I get to fuck you and my boyfriend has to be okay with it.”

I blink, staring at her now instead of salivating over the bakery case.

She’s a statuesque blonde with pretty features and a set of boobs that are tight.

“I don’t fuck random people,” I say. Not anymore.

She arches a brow. “Not according to all those supermarket rags.” She grabs a notepad, scribbles something on it, and tosses it in the bag—her phone number, no doubt.

I fume, my mouth tightening. I fish it out and hand it back to her. “I don’t want this.”

A sullen look crosses her face. “Fine, I just thought you’d be into it is all.”

I might have been two years ago—but not now.

A few minutes later, I’m back inside Rose’s place with the bag and she’s looking at me uncertainly. I figure she’s thinking about Trenton, and what comes next. I’m terrified frankly. I want her to tell me she’ll never see him again, but there’s a distance in her eyes that gives me pause.

I run my eyes over her casual gray yoga pants and NYU sweatshirt. She takes my breath. “You look gorgeous.”

“Thanks.” She smiles hesitantly as I help myself to her cabinets and get us plates for the pastries.

We eat together, both of us quiet. I’m nervous; she’s nervous. A few moments tick by as the room fills with silence. I watch her eat the muffin, my eyes on her perfect lips, the way her hair curls over her shoulder. My cock is hard, and all I can think about is spreading her out on the table. I tell myself to chill out. I don’t want to overwhelm her.

She peeks up at me as she chews. “We had sex, and now things are weird.”

I stuff the last bite of a croissant in my mouth. “I know how to make it not weird.”

“Oh?” She arches a brow.

“Let’s do it again,” I say with a little growl.

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and lets out a shaky breath.

“What are you thinking?” I ask, leaning over the table to wipe a crumb from her cheek.

She doesn’t speak, but her eyes are low, her lashes fluttering.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” My voice is verging on pleading.

“I want you so much, I can’t breathe. I can’t think straight—”

She doesn’t get to finish her sentence.

I sweep her up in my arms and carry her back to the bedroom.

Rose

I’M A HORRIBLE PERSON.

A cheater.

A liar.

I sit on the subway, my gut churning as I rub my forehead.

All I think about is my time with Spider.

About how we had sexy times all over my apartment today.

He is intoxicating.

Fascinating.

Enthralling.

Mesmerizing.

He is all I can think about.

It’s happening all over again, and I’m scared he’s going to ruin me.

The subway clangs to halt and I look up to realize it’s my stop. Trenton . . . God. My gut twists as I think about how to tell him.

I enter his company’s suite inside the huge office building and stop at the front desk that sits in the center of the room. The lobby has two windows, each decorated with custom upholstery. Along the wall sits a line of cushy, formal-looking chairs in a Queen Anne style, reeking of old money and family tradition. It reminds me of Highland Park.

The receptionist is turned around filing papers, so I clear my throat to get her attention. She turns around to face me and I do a double take.

“Aria?” My voice is surprised, and I’m fairly certain my mouth might be open.

The last I heard from Trenton, she was still in Texas and attending college. Yes, she’s his cousin, but he’s rarely seen her except for holidays when they were at the same family gatherings. I avoided any event where I knew she would be, but I did see her once at a wedding for another cousin. We barely spoke to each other, which was easy enough to do since it was crowded.

Why didn’t he tell me she moved here?

She’s still beautiful, of course, her brown hair shorter and cut in a blunt, straight style. Wearing a short red pencil skirt and a printed button-up shirt, she looks amazing. I glance down at my yoga pants and sweatshirt. I’m practically a hobo compared to her.

“Helloooo, Rose!” she says, dragging out the greeting in her soft southern drawl. “I started last week. Didn’t Trenton tell you?” She arches her brow.

I shake my head.

Her laugh tinkles across the darkly paneled office, grating on my nerves. “Well, here I am . . . the new office clerk.” She holds her arms out and does a full pirouette in her black stilettos.

I nod. “Trenton’s been so busy with that new case, I guess he forgot to tell me.”