Rusty Nailed

  No one said a word about his family, and I’d been paying attention, ready to swoop in with my no-panties alternative. They were just all glad he’d finally popped back up on the radar, and to know he was doing well, that he was happy.

  After dinner we walked around the room and I saw more yearbook pictures on the wall, including Senior Superlatives: Class Clown, Cutest Couple, that sort of thing. After what I’d seen tonight, I knew he was on here somewhere; it was just a question of where. Best Hair? Best Smile? Best Looking? I could see all three, but it turned out to be the one on the end: Most Likely to Succeed.

  “Well, look at you. Everyone knew you were going places way back then,” I joked, pulling him in front of the picture and comparing what ten years did. In the picture he was tall and handsome, eyes bright and hopeful, an easy grin on his face. A little leaner than he was now, of course; just the tiniest hint of a laugh line here or there.

  He looked at the picture and smiled ruefully. “I can’t believe they put those pictures up. How embarrassing.”

  “No, it’s nice. I like seeing you back then.”

  “It’s funny, seeing this now. You know why I got this one?”

  “As opposed to Most Fuckable? Because you have my vote for that one.”

  “Because I was going into business with my dad,” he answered, his eyes darkening a bit.

  “I’m sorry, Simon,” I breathed as he pulled me closer by the hand that’d been on my back all night.

  He was silent for a moment, looking at the picture. He took a deep breath. I wondered whether I should tell him about what I wasn’t wearing under my dress; there was a dark corner not too far away—

  “No, it’s okay,” he said. “It’s actually been nice to think about these things again. Makes it seem not so far away.”

  “Far away, my ass. Far away is Istanbul,” a female voice said behind us. We turned and saw a petite girl with closely cropped jet-black hair, a nose ring, several eyebrow piercings, and the most piercing green eyes I’d ever seen. The tiny black dress, fishnet stockings, and Dr. Martens took your eyes to her body right away, and when you put it all together, the girl was a fucking knockout. With killer arm ink.

  “Istanbul, where you left my ass,” she finished.

  “Viv Franklin,” Simon breathed, his eyes lighting up.

  Uh-oh.

  “Left your ass? Like hell! My job was over, you knew I was leaving. You were just too involved with that tour guide to notice.”

  “You never could hold your liquor.”

  “Hold this.”

  “Ha! In your dreams, Parker.” She grinned and launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around him in the biggest bear hug I’d ever seen. He swung her around and actually patted her on the ass. I wasn’t wearing underwear, but I could still kick some butt. Although to be fair, she looked tough.

  Setting her down but keeping his arm snugly around her waist, he turned back to me. “Caroline, this is Viv Franklin. Viv, this is my girlfriend—”

  “Girlfriend? You?”

  “—Caroline Reynolds,” he finished, releasing her to tug me over.

  “No shit—Parker’s got a girlfriend. What a night,” she cackled, smacking him on the shoulder and reaching for my hand. I shook it, not sure what else to do.

  “Nice to meet you,” I offered, but those two were off and running.

  “What are you doing now? Working for your old man?” he asked.

  “Nah, I went out on my own. Data mining.”

  Oh, she was a miner?

  “Wow, good for you. You still writing?”

  Oh, she was a writer?

  “Yeah, I just sold a new app to one of the big guys. Niiiiice paycheck, know what I’m saying?”

  Oh, she wrote an app for, wait. What the hell did she do?

  “I bet,” Simon said. “You know, I ran into one of your brothers when I was in Cairo last year. He was there working on some new system, seemed like a pretty big deal.”

  “Oh, you know my family. They’re always on to the latest and greatest.”

  “Yeah, your brother was not on to the latest and greatest when he snuck some porn into my backpack when I wasn’t looking. You wouldn’t believe the trouble I got into when I—”

  “What the hell is going on? What do you do? Where did you two go together? And who the hell was putting porn in your backpack?” I yelled, for the third time tonight. I needed to get out more; my party manners were out of practice.

  “Sorry, babe. Viv and I went to high school together—”

  “Obviously,” I said, in a quieter tone. Viv just looked at Simon like he had just lassoed the moon and stuffed it in her bra. Which was already pretty full; for a tiny person, she had a great rack.

  “—but I hadn’t seen her for years, until I literally ran into her in a bar in Instanbul.”

  “And spent the next week trying to weasel into my tour group. I was on a grand tour, backpacking my way across Europe until I ran into this guy,” Viv chimed in, patting him firmly on that sweet ass. Okay, that was going to stop.

  “Yes, and the night I allegedly ‘left her’ she was making out with her tour guide like the world was about to end.” He grinned, rumpling her hair like a kid sister.

  Kid sister—I can handle that.

  “And now you’re here—I can’t believe it! I bet you surprised the shit out of everyone here. No one thought you’d come back, after your parents died and all.”

  I winced, waiting for Simon to tense up and shut down.

  “I figured now was as good a time as any, right? It’s been good to be back, you know?” Then he went right on to ask her more about the app she just sold.

  Unbelievable.

  Ten minutes later, the three of us were at the bar. With shots. They continued to talk, fast and furious, and I began to piece it together. Viv and Simon were friends back in high school, her parents were friends with his parents, blah blah blah. Her father owned a computer software company, and all five, yes, count them, five of her older brothers had gone into the same field. Trying to break out of that mold, she’d gone a different route, studying a general liberal arts curriculum and spending semesters and summers abroad. But the numbers game eventually bit her as well, and she wound up in the family business.

  “I hated math in high school. Hated it! But I’m good at it; that stuff just makes sense to me,” she explained to me between shots. “Eventually I went out on my own, small-time initially, but then I got lucky a few times with the right programs at just the right time, you know?”

  I didn’t, but I nodded along.

  When she and Simon were in Istanbul together, no hankypanky happened. She was real clear on that. They were always just friends, friends who were thrown back together in an unreal setting and bonded quickly.

  “Simon’s just that guy, you know? The guy that I might only see once every five years, but if I needed something, he’d be there in a second,” she told me, and I bought her another shot. “He’s a great fucking guy.”

  Simon stepped away to say good-bye to someone who was leaving.

  “You two seem serious. You’re not gonna break his heart are you?” Viv asked.

  “What?” I sputtered, taken off guard.

  “Are you?” she asked, her green eyes narrowing on me.

  “Is this where you tell me if I break his heart, you’ll break my face?”

  “Shit, no— I’ll kill you.” She grinned. I really shouldn’t like this girl, but I did.

  “Well, I have no intention of dying anytime soon. Good enough?”

  “Good enough for me. Seriously, though, he was messed up for a long time. He tries to be all playboy suave, that whole girl-in-every-town bullshit—thank God that’s over. He seems happy with you, so I’m happy.”

  “I’m . . . glad.”

  “He and I come from a similar background, same upbringing. If his parents hadn’t been killed, he likely never would’ve left this life. Which is a great life, don’t get me wrong. But Sim
on always seemed like a guy who needed more. Shitty way for it to happen, but after his parents were gone he went out and explored a bit, did something else with his life,” she mused thoughtfully, swirling her drink in her glass.

  “He’s an adventurer, no mistaking that,” I agreed. “You must be too.”

  “Me? Maybe once, but now I’m pretty settled. I’ve got my business; it’s doing well—what do I need adventure for?”

  I looked at this girl, who looked so different from everyone else in this place. She was almost vibrating with energy; she looked like she could handle anything. And her eyes sparkled at the idea of an adventure. Yet she worked with computers all day?

  “Yeah, you look like you’re really settled,” I replied, arching an eyebrow.

  She swung her gaze back to me, challenging. “You just met me—how in the world do you think you’re entitled to make an observation like that?”

  “You had your hands on my boyfriend’s ass—that pretty much entitles me to call it as I see it.”

  “Marry this girl, Simon,” she said without taking her eyes off me. He’d just appeared behind her, something she knew without having to look. “Marry this girl and make globe-trotting babies with her. Like tomorrow.”

  She clinked my glass, drained her own, kissed Simon soundly on the mouth, and sauntered off into the crowd of trust funds, her fishnets clashing with the twinsets in the most delightful way.

  “Oh, I love her,” I said, laughing even harder when I saw Simon’s face. “Relax, Wallbanger. No one’s getting married tomorrow.”

  He studied me for a moment, then grinned. “You about ready to go?”

  “Really? Already? You don’t want to stay?”

  “I’ve seen the people I wanted to see, and it’s been great. But there’s something I’ve been thinking about all night,” he said, resting his hand in the small of my back and bringing me into his dance space.

  “What’s that?”

  “You’re not wearing anything under that dress, are you?” he murmured, dipping his nose along my jawbone, making me shiver.

  “Busted,” I admitted. His hand moved just south of the small of my back, but not so low as to be indecent.

  “Wicked girl,” he breathed.

  “Let’s go say good-bye to the apostles,” I replied, making his brow furrow in confusion. “I feel like fucking the Homecoming King.”

  • • •

  We said our good-byes to everyone, offering congratulations again to Trevor and Megan. Simon seemed to be truly happy for them, and a little sad to say good-bye. Amid promises to keep in touch and last-minute retellings of past glory, he laughed until he damn near cried. The apostles gathered, they wished him well, and made him swear he wouldn’t stay away so long. He promised to return.

  We finally saw Tammy Watkins. And they were indeed huge.

  Simon and Viv exchanged phone numbers, then she hugged him tightly.

  We made the quick drive back to our hotel, his hand tangled with mine on the console in between, his thumb making tiny circles on the inside of my palm. When his eyes met mine, they burned. We didn’t speak much, and when we walked down the hallway to our room, he kept that hand solidly in the small of my back.

  Once inside the room however, that hand roamed.

  I was pressed up against the inside of the door, his mouth fierce and demanding. My hands went to his shoulders immediately, struggling to remove his coat. “Do you know how intoxicating tonight was for me?” I said, panting. His hands closed briefly around my throat as he turned my face to kiss my neck. Mmm, possessive. I wanted to be possessed by this man, tonight and every night. “To watch all those women, all those girls who probably had their first orgasm back in high school thinking about you.”

  He pulled back to look at me, full of crazy lust.

  “Half the women there tonight wanted to fuck you, Simon—but they don’t get to.” I undid his buttons, yanking when my fingers wouldn’t work fast enough. “I do.”

  He had me out of the dress in seconds, bra off a second after. “Leave the boots,” he instructed, undoing his pants. “And get on the bed.”

  I laid back, the cool comforter sliding against my heated skin. He appeared over me, shirt gone, pants unbuckled, hair tousled from my frantic hands. He looked down at me, his eyes raking over my body as I shivered just from his look alone.

  “You’re fucking stunning,” he murmured, pulling himself out of his pants and stroking the long length. “You have no idea, do you?”

  “Christ, Simon,” I breathed, watching him run his hands up and down his cock, pumping firmly.

  “Spread your legs for me,” he instructed, and my knees fell open as though he’d cast a spell. “Touch yourself, Caroline.”

  My heart exploded out of my chest, desire pulsing through me at the thought that he wanted to watch me. My hands drifted down to my breasts, circling with my fingers and just barely grazing my nipples. They stiffened instantly, and I closed my eyes. I could see the way Simon looked when he was nuzzling me, torturing me with his tongue and nibbling with those damnable teeth. I pinched my nipples, imagining his mouth, sucking and teasing with pleasure than bordered on pain.

  “Lower,” he commanded, and my back bowed off the bed once more. I let my right hand travel farther south, dipping down to discover I was soaked for him, big surprise. At the first pass with my fingers, he took a staggered breath. At the second pass I brushed against my clit, taking my own staggered breath as my knees closed the tiniest bit, the sensations overwhelming.

  “Ah-ah-ah, keep those legs open,” he said, and I felt his hands on my knees, just barely on the inside of my thighs. “How else can I see you make yourself come?”

  I cried out, my hand now exploring my sex with abandon. Behind closed eyes, I felt Simon’s fingers swirling through and plunging inside, making those perfect circles exactly where I needed him, pressing and slipping and sliding.

  I was going to come, and I was going to come hard. I told him so.

  I opened my eyes to see Simon staring down at me, his eyes heavy lidded and drunk with lust, his fist moving over his own excitement. I came in a rush, one hand on my breasts, my fingers buried deep inside, and his name falling from my lips. I’d barely recovered when he moved his hands underneath me.

  “Turn over—get on your hands and knees for me.” His voice was throaty and full, making me shudder once more. I did as directed and turned back to look at him. One strong hand shot out to grasp my shoulder, the other smoothed over my bottom. Angled just so, he thrust into me in one hard surge, burying his considerable length all at once. I groaned as he pushed me farther down onto the bed before his hands settled on my hips.

  He plowed into me, hard and thick, impaling me with every pump of his hips. Unrelenting. Unforgiving. Unbelievable.

  He took me hard, sexy, and wild. I cried out as I came all around him, my swollen flesh tender and responsive to his every move, his every plunge. Sparks burst behind my eyes, my entire body caught up as he thrust into me.

  “You can’t imagine, how it feels,” he said, his voice low in my ear as he leaned over me, “to have you come on my cock.”

  I exploded once more as he drove himself into me a final time, his hands digging into my skin as he rode out his orgasm deep within me.

  We fell onto the bed into a heap of sweaty skin and heavy breathing. After I regained use of my limbs, I struggled to roll us both over, pushing the mass of my hair out of my face as I rested my chin on his chest. “If I get a cheerleading uniform, can we play Homecoming King again sometime?”

  “As long as you wear the boots, babe,” he replied, kissing me thoroughly.

  We didn’t play Homecoming King again that night, but we did play Reverse Cowgirl meets the Student Council President.

  chapter thirteen

  Once we flew back to the West Coast, holiday planning was in full swing. I was as busy as ever, trying to get as much done as I could before work crews began taking breaks for Christmas. We
worked on Christmas decorating at a few key homes and hotels around town, and the Sausalito project kept trucking along. We were ahead of schedule, and Mr. Camden seemed very pleased with not only the construction but the interest that was being generated around town.

  Mimi and Ryan were planning their holiday party for a week before Christmas and it promised to be a fabulous evening. Hosting in their new apartment, they’d invited friends and work colleagues on both sides. And Sophia and Neil would both be attendance. Of course they were both bringing dates. I was hoping the lack of Pictionary would keep them a little more in line. Wishful Thinking: Party of One.

  And Simon? Well, I don’t know how to describe what Simon was. He was . . . around. I can’t explain it any better than that. He just seemed to always be—around. He’d canceled a trip he’d planned to Vancouver; he’d canceled a trip he’d had planned to Honduras. He was supposed to be gone almost the entire month of December, but now the only thing on his books was our trip to Rio. He hadn’t had downtime like this in, well, I don’t know when. Not since I’d known him. He biked most mornings, then spent most afternoons poring over old disks of his pictures, cataloging and dating them.

  He was . . . around.

  The thing was, I wasn’t. I thought I should feel bad for working so much, but the thing was, I wasn’t. I mean, this was my busy season, and if he was traveling like he usually did, he wouldn’t be around so much to notice it. Should I feel bad?

  He said he understood. He brought me lunch most days, tried once again coaxing me back into bed in the morning with promises of dirty things..

  And my God, I loved him, but I’d almost be glad when . . .

  Okay, I’m going to say the thing you’re not supposed to say.

  I’d be glad when I had the bed to myself again.

  I hate to say it, but sometimes I slept better when he was on the road. But you’re not supposed to say that, right? You’re supposed to curl up each and every night for eight solid hours of spooning and cuddling . . . But the truth? I needed my own bed occasionally. I liked some alone time. Is that bad?