Love Sex
&
Other Games
Part 2
by CHERYL McINTYRE
Note From Author:
Please note Love Sex & Other Games is a SERIAL.
If serials aren’t your thing, then please do not read Love Sex & Other Games. Leave that to those who enjoy the fun and anticipation a serial provides, or wait for the series to complete before reading.
One wedding, one catastrophic speech, and two lovesick people searching for redemption in each other.
This is part two of Emerson and Cooper’s story.
I was supposed to marry the girl across the street—my lifelong best friend and the love of my life, Roselyn Metz. So why am I playing best man at her wedding?
One too many drinks and a vindictive one-night stand lead to a disastrous wedding toast.
But it also leads me to her—Emerson Metz—Roselyn’s younger sister, now all grown up and just as brokenhearted over her sister’s new marriage as I am.
Love Sex & Other Games is a serial—each part is the size of a novelette—and intended for an adult audience. Due to foul language, sexual innuendos, dirty talk, and adult themes, this serial is recommended for readers 18+
Also by Cheryl McIntyre
The Sometimes Never Series:
Sometimes Never
Blackbird
Before Now
Long After
Always Forever
Let It Be
The Dirty Series:
Getting Dirty
Playing Dirty
Talking Dirty
Fighting Dirty
Staying Dirty
Dirty: The 5-Part Serial Bundle
Grit: A Dirty Sequel
HARD
Villain
Infinitely
Dark Calling
Love Sex & Other Games (Part 1)
Love Sex & Other Games (Part 2)
Cheryl McIntyre
August 2016
Copyright Cheryl McIntyre 2016
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without prior written permission by the author except where permitted by law.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real persons, events, or places are used fictitiously. The characters are the work of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to persons living or deceased, events, or locales are coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademark status, as well as ownership of products referred to in this work of fiction. The uses of these trademarks have not been authorized, nor are they associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Don’t be a dick—don’t steal my work. I put a lot of time and effort into writing this and when you steal it, it’s a slap in the face. If you obtained this book in any way other than a reputable book-distributing site, such as Amazon, iBooks, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Google Play, Smashwords, etc., then please understand you have received an illegal copy, and that makes you an asshole.
Cover design by Daryl Cunningham
Edited by Dawn McIntyre-Decker
2016
For everyone who carries a book wherever you go. I feel you.
Table of Contents
Note From Author
Love Sex & Other Games (Part 1) Quick Recap
The little Brother
The Kiss
The Morning
The Talking
The Visitor
acknowledgements
About Author
Other Books by Cheryl
Love Sex & Other Games (Part 1) Final Chapter Recap
THE FRIENDSHIP
Cooper
As soon as we get inside my apartment, I head straight into the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. I press my palms onto the counter and stare at myself in the mirror.
What the fuck was that Cooper?
What were you doing?
What are you doing now?
Your dick is fucking hard.
For Emerson Metz.
For Roselyn’s baby sister.
What the fuck?
Seriously. What the fuck?
I try reigning it in. Try to gain control of my speeding pulse. But damn. When Em said the light was green, I thought she meant she was good to go. That she wanted me, and fuck if I didn’t want her too. Badly.
And there was something about her desiring me. Seeing me. Not my brother. I can’t even describe how that made me feel.
Needed.
Strong.
Chosen.
Jesus, she’s so damn sexy.
No. She’s a virgin, Cooper. You shit. Saving herself for love.
But the way she was looking at me in the car… The fact she’s still here, in my living room, waiting for me.
Shit.
SHIT.
I like her. I can’t deny that. I like her a lot, actually. More than I thought possible. Way more than I probably should.
We’re both grown adults. Both sexually frustrated. Both in need of a warm body and a good friend.
We could take it slow, just see what happens. Find out where it leads.
She’s Rosie’s sister.
Shit. Fuck.
Rosie’s sexy, funny, smartass sister.
I keep staring at myself, fighting a losing battle with my internal thoughts.
Fuck it.
I push away from the sink, ready to rip the door off the damn hinges and let whatever happens tonight, happen. A knock, soft and hesitant perks my ears.
“Cooper?” Em calls, her voice weak.
I fling the door open and she’s standing right in front of me, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. Two steps. That’s all we need.
I take the first one, moving out into the hallway. I reach for her just as Miles rounds the corner, his eyes dropping to my outstretched hand.
“Your brother’s here,” Em murmurs.
Fuck.
“I need to…” She shakes her head, gaze fixed just over my shoulder. “I’m going to go.”
FUCK.
“Ems,” I plead. “Wait. I drove you.”
She’s moving quickly, feet padding down the hall and into the living room. She grabs her purse and jacket, not bothering to put either on. I’m right on her heels. “It’s okay,” she rasps. “I’ll get a cab. You two should talk.”
Fuck that. I don’t want to talk to Miles. I want to talk to her.
She fumbles with the door handle, but I slap my palm flat against the wood, holding it closed. My chest presses into her back. God, she smells good. This is not how this night was supposed to turn out.
“Ems, please don’t go.” If she leaves, it’s going to change everything. I don’t know how I know it, but I do. I feel it in my bones. I have no idea what we are. What this is between us. Or where it’s heading. But it feels like it could be the start of something. “Please,” I say again, my voice low, hoarse.
I feel a shudder run through her body.
“You okay, Em?” Miles calls, still standing halfway in the hall. She and I both go rigid at the sound of his voice. Why the hell is he here? Now, of all times?
Em shakes her head and I’m not sure if it’s in response to him or me, but it doesn’t matter. She brushes my hand away and opens the door. There’s a moment, just a beat where she pauses, almost like she’s reconsidering. My heart gallops in my chest.
I blink, and then she’s gone.
I want a soul mate who can sit me down, shut me up, tell me ten things I don’t already know, and make me laugh. I don’t care what you look like, just turn me on. And if you can do that, I will follow you on bloody stumps through the snow.
—Henry Rollins
THE little BROTHER
r /> Cooper
She’s gone.
I stare at the door, debating whether or not I should go after her or give her space.
“What’s going on?” Miles asks. “What was Emerson doing here? Since when do you two hang out? Why did she take off like that?”
He fires off one question after another, not giving me the opportunity to answer. My back is still to him and I close my eyes, inhaling a calming breath. And then a second one for good measure. This is his fault. All of it. I love him—he’s my brother, I have to—but I am one nosey-ass question away from kicking him in the nuts and ensuring I never have a niece or nephew.
Damn, the thought of Rosie, swollen with Miles’ child, twists my gut. I wince. Little half-Miles/half-Rosies running around, calling me Uncle makes me want to puke a little. Even if I’d be an awesome uncle—which I would.
And Em would be their aunt.
I bet she’d be a good one, too. Not as cool as Uncle Coop, but she’d help teach them all the shit they shouldn’t do. All the things that would drive Rosie and Miles crazy. Give them drums for Christmas and paint sets for birthdays.
I almost smile at that.
“Coop, what’s going on? Em looked upset. What happened?”
You. You happened, Miles. The story of my life. Why couldn’t he have been born a girl? Or gay? Or mute?
I turn to face him and it’s difficult not to unleash the chaos I feel inside. Focus it all on him. But we’ve been there, done that, bought the t-shirt. “We’re friends,” I say, deliberately ignoring the other questions, but that doesn’t stop him from repeating them.
“Was she okay? She looked—”
“You noticed that too?” I ask, cutting him off. Funny, since he hasn’t noticed anything else about her in all this time. Maybe he has to now, part of his newfound role as brother-in-law.
I wave him off, trudging into the kitchen. “I’ll call her later and check on her. After you leave,” I add pointedly. My fridge is full of Cherry Coke, purchased specifically for Em, and I have to search around for a moment to locate the six-pack of Corona I stowed in there. I don’t offer my brother one. He’s already overstayed his welcome.
I pop the top and take a deep drink before I turn around and find Miles hovering just outside the doorway, lurking like a stalker.
“Why are you here?”
A flicker of sadness flashes in his eyes, but it’s quickly replaced with annoyance. “I was sent here.”
Of course he was.
“By who? Mom?” I walk straight toward him, not slowing on my way out of the room, forcing him to back up. “I’ll tell her you stopped by and we had a nice brotherly heart-to-heart, okay?”
He follows after me, choosing to remain standing as I heave myself onto the couch. I grab the remote, dismissing him, but he doesn’t take the hint.
“Not Mom,” he explains. “Rosie.”
I freeze, arm in midair, controller pointed at the TV. “Why?”
“She’s pissed at me.”
Ha. Good.
Wait.
“Why?” I ask again, my voice low.
“I never told her—about you, and apparently, I should have.”
I shift my head slowly, narrowing my eyes as I meet his. My arm drops to my knee heavily. “You think?”
He shakes his head, indifferent to the look I’m giving him. “No, I don’t. But Rosie does. So I’m here.”
Seriously, why not mute, God? Why?
A dry chuckle puffs my chest as it leaves my mouth. He has no remorse whatsoever. No regrets for what he did. And here’s the thing: The only part I feel that he should feel bad about is how he’s handled everything. Not for being with Rosie. Not even for being with Rosie when he knew how I felt about her. You can’t help who you love.
And when you love someone, you should never allow anything or anyone to stand in the way. Not family, not friends, not time or distance or career. And definitely not fear. You get one life—you can’t fuck around waiting for it to begin or get better. You have to step the hell up and make it happen. Especially when it comes to love.
Miles did what he needed to do for himself and there’s nothing wrong with that. But he should have been a man and told me. He should have told Rosie. There should have been fair warning. And a fair chance. He stole that, and for that, he should feel like shit.
“You truly are an asshole,” I reply. Like, a giant hemorrhoid-infested asshole. A six-pack may not be enough to handle this night.
“What would it have changed?” he fires back, face pinking with anger. “What could have happened differently? You think she would have chosen not to be with me to spare your feelings?” He laughs, the sound patronizing and full of disdain. “You realize that doesn’t mean she’d have been with you, right?” He shakes his head at whatever he reads in my expression. Probably doubt. Maybe hope. I really can’t say. There’s too much storming through my head—like a tornado or a tsunami. It’s overwhelming and unwanted. A six-pack is definitely not going to be enough.
“She wouldn’t have been with you, Cooper. She wouldn’t have done that to me. The only options were neither of us, and all three of us miserable, or one of us, and two of us happy.”
“And one of us—me—miserable.” I say the part he doesn’t.
“Stop condemning me for realizing what needed to be done and for doing what you didn’t have the balls to do.”
Ouch.
Have you ever been so pissed off that your body almost goes numb? Like the spike of adrenaline anesthetizes every cell. This wave of false calm washes over me and I finally say what’s been on my mind for years.
“I didn’t realize there was a choice to be made between us because you,” I jab the air in his direction, “weren’t man enough to tell me you loved her too. Why is that, Miles? Were you that afraid to even the playing field? That scared I would tell her how I felt about her first—how I’ve always felt about her—and she would choose me?”
He doesn’t reply, and it’s all the answer I need.
“Because,” I continue, “I wouldn’t have. I wouldn’t have done that to you.” I sink back into the couch cushion and finish off the last of my drink, wishing I had something a little stronger. “Not back then, anyway, not before I knew what it felt like to lose everything I wanted before I ever had it.”
“A lot happened after you left for college,” he says, his tone almost pleading now. “I didn’t plan it. Without you there, it was only Rosie and me, and it just happened. Naturally. I didn’t force it. Hell, Coop, I tried to ignore it. I just couldn’t. You weren’t the only one who loved her all your life. And when I knew she loved me too… I had to tell her how I felt…” He trails off and I’m glad he does. It gives me a moment to squash the painful pang that forms over hearing those words.
I’m not sure there are many things worse than hearing how much the person you love loves someone else.
“I can’t regret her,” he utters. “Please stop asking me to.”
I never asked him to regret her. He’ll never get it. You don’t regret love. You regret hurting those you love. And he doesn’t. I’m not sure he’s even capable.
“It wasn’t just you and Rosie,” I say. It’s not the response I planned to give. It just slips past my lips.
Miles cocks his head in confusion and I keep going.
“It was Rosie, and you, and Emerson.”
He’s still confused, not understanding where I’m going with this and honestly, I have no idea either.
“And then, when Rosie went off to college, there was that year when it was just you and Emerson.”
He lifts his hands, palms to the ceiling. “Okay?”
“Why not her?” I don’t mean he should have left Rosie for me and gone after Em. I just really want to know how he missed the incredible person she is. “She was a sophomore while you were a senior—you went to the same school. She lived across the street from you. Why didn’t you ever look her way?”
He raises his bro
ws skeptically, his left eyelid twitching. “Why didn’t I look at my girlfriend’s sister? What kind of fucking question is that?”
Yeah, I hear it too. It’s totally fucked up. What’s also fucked up is the way his eye continues to spasm—a lifelong tell he’s hiding something.
“I don’t know,” I respond. I press the heels of my palms into my eyes. “I just don’t know anymore.” I blow out a slow breath. “None of this even matters. We can go around in circles all day and never agree on the way this all should have been handled. No matter what, one of us would still have gotten hurt. Might as well be me. What’s done is done. Tell Rosie that. She doesn’t need to worry about me.”
“But she is worried. Because one of her dearest friends—her brother-in-law—got wasted at our wedding and announced to hundreds of people how madly in love he is with her. Why then? You’ve had years to do this. Why did it have to be our wedding day?”
When it’s all spelled out like that for me, I realize for the first time how awkward it has to be for Rosie, her husband’s brother declaring his love. Awkward for Miles to have another man obsessing over his wife. And how embarrassing it all must be for both of them. Holidays are going to be uncomfortable. As. Fuck. Mom’s probably marking mistletoe off the yearly list just to be safe.
“I didn’t plan it. It just happened,” I rasp, throwing his words back at him. We’re human. We all screw up. Some of us (me) screw up on a bigger scale than others. Some of us (Miles) screw up because we’re young, dumb, and in love. And a little bit of an asshole.
I sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I waited until your wedding reception. I’m sorry Rosie’s upset. I’m even kind of sorry you’re upset. It will never, ever happen again.” And I mean it. I wouldn’t trade that night or what I did because otherwise Em wouldn’t be in my life in the same way she is now, but I do feel bad.