I couldn’t believe it.
My heart was throwing itself against my ribs as I closed the door to my bedroom and backed away. I sat on the bed, but it was more like falling down, because my legs were weak.
That wasn’t okay. It was a big deal. And it wasn’t all right.
I was hard and throbbing, and at the same time I felt sick. How could I’ve done that in my sleep? There was an easy answer, but still. I’d been dreaming about her—about Sydney. After seeing her in her bra and panties yesterday, and after last night, no wonder she was starring in my porno dreams. Shit. It hadn’t been the first time I’d had that kind of dream about her, but to act on it?
I had my hands on her and my fingers in her—in Syd.
“Oh shit.”
What if I hadn’t woken up? How far would it have gone? She was untouchable to the likes of me.
I started to get back up, to go to her and apologize again, but I forced myself to stay put, because as the shock wore off, I remembered what had woken me from one the best dreams I’d had in a long time, that turned out to not be a dream.
Syd had made a sound.
And the sound coming out of her didn’t sound like fear or disgust. Every cell in my body recognized that breathy low moan. She had been enjoying it. Better yet, Syd seemed like she’d been awake for a while. She had to have known what I was doing, and she hadn’t stopped me.
Holy shit, she hadn’t stopped me.
Not only had she not stopped me, she had been soaked. And boy, did I know what that meant. But for the first time in my life, I had no idea what to do with that. My brain couldn’t digest it, even though my body knew exactly what to do.
Flopping onto my back, I groaned and the sound echoed in the room. I stared at the ceiling knowing I was more likely to sprout wings and fucking fly than I was to get any more sleep tonight. Especially when damn near every part of me wanted to get back in her bed and pick up exactly where I’d left off.
Chapter 11
Sydney
Kyler avoided me the next day like I was some ugly chick he’d drunkenly brought home from a bar and couldn’t get rid of. The whole thing was about ten levels of awkward and a basement full of someone-kill-me-now.
As I made us cold-cut sandwiches for the second day in a row, he lingered at the edge of the kitchen, and when I handed him his plate and our fingers brushed, he jerked back, knocking the plate out of my hand. Honey ham and swiss cheese went flying. Mayo splattered along the pretty tile.
“Shit,” he said, and he’d been saying that a lot lately. He knelt down and started scooping up the mess. “Sorry about that.”
I stood there, hands shaking. I wanted to cry. Like a fat, angry baby who wanted to be fed level of crying. Mumbling something I didn’t even understand, I went over to the counter and grabbed some paper towels. With every intention of helping—and somehow cleaning up the more important mess—I went back to where he was and bent over.
At that very second, Kyler stood, and the top of his head smacked into my chin, snapping my head back. Sharp pain burst across my jaw as I stumbled back, dropping the paper towels as Kyler cursed like the F-word was going out of style. Standing up, he reached for me, but the laws of gravity were totally against me. I knocked into the heavy-ass oak kitchen table, shaking it. Perched in the center was a vase that his mom had commissioned over five years ago, which started to wobble from side to side.
I spun around, reaching for the stupid purple and pink work of art. It was like one of those really bad movies where a series of accidents leads to something priceless being destroyed. I practically dive-bombed the table, catching the vase a second before it committed suicide off the edge.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, out of breath.
Kyler appeared at my side, helping me straighten up without doing any more bodily injury. “Are you okay?”
I couldn’t feel my chin. “I’m okay.”
He took the vase from me and waited until I backed away from the table before he placed it back down. “I’m sorry. I could’ve knocked your teeth out.”
There was nothing for me to say, so I stood there, trying not to come in contact with anything. “Are you okay?”
“I have a hard head.”
That he did.
And then the awkwardness of the decade was back. We both stared at each other. Heat crept into my cheeks, which was amazing since it was so damn cold in the house.
Kyler went back over to the mess and grabbed the paper towels. I started to make him another sandwich. “Don’t,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “I’ll make myself one.”
I don’t know why that stung like a giant mahogany wasp had landed on my nose, but it did. It hurt, cut right through me. Appetite slaughtered, I left the kitchen and walked aimlessly, ending up in the sunroom on the other side of the living room.
It was freezing in this room, with the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Huddling down in my heavy sweater, I sat on one of the wicker chairs and stared out over the snow-covered yard. Wind whipped the snow, creating drifts at least six feet high against the shed out back. Beyond that, the forest crept in. I could see the lifts off in a distance, swaying back and forth as the wind kicked them around.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I couldn’t help but think about how it was going to be when we finally got out of here. Would our friendship ever be the same? I couldn’t see how it would be.
Lowering my chin so that it dipped under the hem of my sweater, I closed my eyes. The moment I did so, I regretted it, because in that room, with nothing but the wind and nothing to focus on, I thought about what had happened between Kyler and me last night. How was I ever going to forget that?
“Syd?”
I lifted my head at the sound of Kyler’s voice. He was standing just inside the doorway of the sunroom. “Hey.”
He ran his hand through his hair. Something he must’ve been doing all day, because his hair was adorably disheveled. “I’m sorry about what happened in the kitchen.”
My entire body felt like it had been slipped into a fruit juicer. “You can stop apologizing. It was an accident. I’m okay. So are you. Nothing is broken.”
“You left your sandwich in the kitchen.”
“I’m not hungry. I’ll get it later.”
He looked at me for a long moment, and then turned his gaze to the windows. “It’s crazy out there, isn’t it?”
I followed his gaze, feeling close to tears. “Yeah, it is.”
A couple of seconds passed, and then he sat beside me. He leaned forward, dropping his hands on his bent knees. “Sydney, about last night—”
“Please don’t apologize for that again. Okay?” I didn’t think I could bear it if he did.
Kyler tensed. “How can you be okay with that? I felt you up in my sleep. Wait. I didn’t just feel you up. I was touching you.”
The way he said it made me think of those dolls social services shows kids who come into their offices. Yuck. My gaze traveled over his profile. For the hundredth time I found myself wishing things were simpler between us.
He glanced at me. “That wasn’t what I intended when I got in bed with you last night. I just want you to know that.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. Well, if I thought my heart couldn’t take any more bitch-smacks, I’d been so, so wrong. “Was it so bad?”
“What?”
Looking away, I pushed to my feet and walked over to the window. Maybe I just needed to grow some lady balls and confront this head-on. Obviously, we’d damaged our friendship already. The only way to repair it was if we got past this crap. Psychology 101. Avoidance was the fun and easy way, followed up by denial, but neither ever worked. I needed to tell him that I was attracted to him, that I wanted him. Maybe once we cleared the air, I could move on. Honesty was always the best route to take, but I wasn’t sure I could grow balls that big.
But if I didn’t, then we’d continue this way. Having stilted conversations.
I heard him take a breath.
“You’re thinking something,” he said. “You’re thinking something really important. If you’re pissed at me because of last night, you can tell me instead of trying to protect my feelings. I’ll understand. I wouldn’t hold—”
“I’m not mad at you.” I faced him, folding my arms. He looked away. “And how could I be when I tried to kiss you when I was drunk? That would make me a hypocrite.”
“They were totally two different situations, Syd. You didn’t try to grab my junk.”
I would’ve if I had better reflexes while intoxicated. That was the truth—not something I’d admit, but I had to get it out there. “Why did you stop last night?”
He stared at me like I was insane. “I was sleeping, Syd! Hell, you thought you molested me while you were drunk? I seriously did that to you.”
“I didn’t mind.” My voice came out weak, a barely-there whisper.
Kyler jerked back.
I shook my head. “I wasn’t asleep, Kyler. I knew what you were doing.” Now he really stared at me, and I lost my breath. It was either now or never. All those moments had led up to this. I could tell him I was glad he stopped, say something stupid and change the subject. Or I could tell him what I wanted—what I’d been wanting for so very long. If I did, there was no going back.
“Sydney…” His voice carried a warning.
I took a deep breath. “I want what the other girls have had.”
“What?” His eyes widened, darkening.
My cheeks burned like I was sunbathing in hell. “I want that—I want you. I want to be with you.” I watched him stand and I thought for a second he was going to leave the room. Knots formed in my stomach, so tight I thought I’d hurl, but he just stood there. “I’m not asking for you to be my boyfriend or to marry me. I know you don’t do relationships. I know you’re not into that kind of thing.”
“And you’re not either?” Derision dripped from those words.
Now my entire body flamed. He said that like I was Miss Conservative USA. It made me go on the defensive, and the need to prove I wasn’t a frigid little goodie two shoes hit me hard.
“Not with you. I just want you. For one night. That’s it.”
Kyler went very still. I don’t even think he breathed. Then his eyes narrowed on me. “That’s what you want?”
My hands twisted in front of me and I whispered, “Yes.”
“And that’s it?” He prowled a step forward, and my heart tripped up as I took a step back. “Say it a little louder, Syd.”
Throat dry, I swallowed and went with a minimally louder, “Yes.”
Another measured step from him, and I found myself backing up until I hit the glass window. A slow predatory smile graced his lips, and heat flooded my veins in a maddening rush. “Since when?”
Words were so hard to form. “For…for a while.”
“How long?”
“A long time.”
He shook his head. “That doesn’t tell me much.”
“Long enough,” I said.
“And what is it again that you want?”
I wasn’t sure if I could speak, not when he was looking at me like that. “You.”
“You’re going to have to be a little more detailed than that, baby.” He stopped in front of me, and I had to crane my neck to see his expression. “Waiting…”
Was he really going to make me go into a detailed thesis? I started to look away, but his fingers landed on my chin, holding my gaze to his. His eyebrow arched. “I…I want you.”
His gaze dropped, and even though I wore a heavy sweater I felt bare and vulnerable. I shivered and my nipples tightened. Everything in me tightened. “You’ve said that already. You’ve also said that you want what the other girls have gotten. You know what that is?”
I nodded the best I could.
Kyler lowered his head so that his lips were a scant inch from mine. “I fucked those girls. That’s it. No strings. No commitments. Nothing. And that’s what you want? You want me to fuck you?”
No. I wanted more, so much more. “Yes.”
He sucked in a sharp breath as he dropped his hand. Anger flashed across his striking face—real anger, brightening his cheeks. I knew I’d screwed up then. Disappointment crashed into me with a force of a wrecking ball. This was it. He was turning me down again. The back of my throat burned with the finality of it, because this was it—couldn’t clear the air any better than this. I wanted to kick myself in the head. I’d brought this on myself and most likely ruined our friendship, like for real this time. Screw psychology. I should’ve continued with the whole avoidance thing.
“Turn around,” he ordered.
I blinked. “What?”
“Turn. Around.” The authority in his voice sent a rolling shudder through me, but I was frozen there, staring up at him. His eyes were wider now, and they glimmered like polished onyx. I was trapped in his gaze. “I’m not going to tell you again.”
Part of me wanted to ask what he thought he was going to do if I didn’t listen, but I did turn around, because I had seen the heat in his eyes. Maybe I was hallucinating all of this. Maybe I’d tried to race from the room and had fallen and hit my head. Always possible. Or maybe I’d gotten a concussion from the snowmobile of death and the earlier knock I’d taken from Kyler’s hard-as-hell head.
“This is how I do it.” His heavy, deep voice caused me to jump. Chuckling, he brushed the mass of hair off my neck, tossing it over my shoulder, and then his breath was warm and hot along the back of my neck. “Sometimes standing, sometimes against the wall like this, or sometimes on our knees, with me behind them.”
Oh. My. God. Totally made me the queen of creepers, but I’d always wondered how he did it. I stared out into the snow, but I didn’t really see anything. Heat blossomed low in my stomach, rushing through my veins. I licked my lips and then bit down as a hand skimmed my hip before settling on the curve of my waist.
“I don’t do it any other way, not with girls I just fuck.” Another hand landed on my other side, his fingers gathering the material. “And that’s what you want, Syd? You want me to fuck you from behind?”
My breath hitched and a deep ache started between my thighs. “I…”
“Which way?” he asked, and shifted closer. His lips brushed my cheek, and I could feel him all along the back of me even though he wasn’t pressing against me. “Do you want to do it like this? Or we can get down on our knees. I’m fine either way.”
OhGodOhGodOhGod…I had no idea what to say. The only time I’d had sex, it was missionary, and I honestly didn’t know how this would work with the height difference or—
“You’re thinking, Syd. Did you change your mind?”
Was that what he wanted? Or did he just expect that of me, because he’d heard what Nate had said? I was frigid, and frigid girls sure as hell didn’t do this. I squeezed my eyes shut. “Like this.”
A muttered curse came out of him, and my eyes flew open. Was that the wrong thing to say? But then his hands fisted my sweater and before I could say “orgasm,” he had tugged my sweater right over my head and off me.
And then I was standing there in my jeans and bra. Not the grossly padded bra—thank God—but a bra. Holy crap, we were going to do this—he was going to do me. We were going to fuck. A little bit of unease wiggled its way through me. There was nothing romantic about that, nothing sweet and affectionate. Fucking was just that—fucking. And he didn’t sound particularly happy about any of this.
This was all wrong.
Kyler’s large hands landed on the bare skin of my sides, and I jerked at the contact. “Put your hands on the glass, Syd.”
All thoughts fled my mind as the heat expanded deep within me. My body responded shamelessly to his order and the deep timbre of his voice. The windowpane was cool under my palms.
“Good.” One hand drifted over my skin, moving to just below my belly button and over the band of my jeans. His hand flattened. “Keep your hands on the window.”
He
pulled me toward him as he seemed to lean over me, so that I was slightly bowed and nestled against him, but still touching the window. I could feel him hot and hard pressing into my back, and sensation trilled through my veins.
“You should’ve said something earlier—that this was all you wanted.” There was a tightness to his words, a hard edge I didn’t understand. He was definitely ticked off, but he was doing this.
Confusion and lust swirled inside me, and I didn’t know which way I was going. His other hand started to move, skimming up along my ribs, sending shivers through me. “I would’ve…helped you out a long time ago,” he said.
I couldn’t think, not when his hand drifted over my upper stomach and then over the cup of my bra. A moan escaped me as my back arched. “Kyler…”
“Shit.” His hand stilled as his hips pushed forward. With his other hand still holding me in place there was no escaping the slow, torturous pump or what it meant. Not that I wanted to. I pushed back against him and he groaned deep in his throat.
His hand moved away from my bra, and I whimpered. But then he reached between us and, with incredibly nimble fingers, undid the bra quicker than it took me to fasten it. The material slipped down my arms and I let go of the window long enough for the bra to hit the floor. Cold air hit my chest, dueling with the heat battering me from the inside.
He wasn’t in front of me, but I knew he was looking at me. As tall as he was, it didn’t take much. There was a slight reflection of us in the window, and I could feel the intensity in his gaze. The tips of my breasts tightened even more, becoming almost painful.
Then his hands were on me, and my entire body sparked alive. His fingers moved over me, gently exploring the swell of my breasts, teasing the tips. He lowered his lips to the spot below my ear, pressing a hot little kiss there. “Dammit, Sydney.”
His fingers caught a nipple and I cried out, moving my hips back against his in a silent plea. Trailing kisses down my neck, over the slope of my shoulder, and all along, he kept touching me until my breasts felt heavy and swollen. It had not been like that with Nate.
Kyler nipped at the side of my neck. “You…you deserve better than this, baby. Dammit, you deserve better than this.”