She wasn’t quiet, Remington, and I loved it. We definitely wouldn’t have been able to do this at my parents’ house. They would have heard her on the first floor.
She was finally still and I moved back as her legs trembled a little on my shoulders.
“Fuck. That was amazing.” She panted and I laughed out loud when she put two thumbs in the air.
“It’s not over yet,” I said. I gave her a moment to recover and then I was back at it. I made her come again and she was even louder than the first time. It was awesome and I was so fucking hard by the end I thought I was probably going to die.
I finally slid off my boxer briefs and found her pulling a condom out of the box and ripping the wrapper open.
“Get over here, hot stuff,” she said. I walked over to her and watched as she rolled it on.
“That’s fucking hot,” I said and she winked at me before opening her legs and crooking her finger.
“Get over here.”
Fuck. Yes.
I stepped toward her and teased her for a second before sliding right in. I put one hand behind her back and one between us so I could get her off again. I started slow, so we could figure out our rhythm, but soon she was begging me to go harder, faster. I wanted to give her what she asked for, but I knew I wasn’t going to last long. When she came again, I was done.
I thought I was going to black out, but I didn’t. I opened my eyes and looked straight into hers.
“Wow,” I said.
“Ditto,” she said. My knees were sore from the floor duty, but I didn’t care. I pulled out and she lay back on the counter with a sigh.
“I’m really glad we didn’t do that at your parents’ house. Because I could never face your mom again.”
I leaned my elbows on the counter next to her.
“Yeah, me neither.”
She turned her head and smiled at me.
“We should probably finish up or else we’re never going to get out of here.” Right. Baking. I’d completely forgotten. She was still naked.
She pushed herself up and blushed a little.
“I should probably put some clothes on.”
“Don’t you dare,” I said, shaking my head.
“Um, I can’t bake naked, Brooks.”
“Why not?” She opened her mouth to argue.
“Can I wear an apron?”
“Sure.”
So she got up and put on one of the aprons, leaving her ass visible, which was just great. I tossed the condom and then put an apron on too. Remington Rose Wright was definitely checking me out.
We both went back to work, but kept trading glances. I kept picturing her with ganache dripping all over her perfect breasts and then licking it off. Slowly. So slowly. And then fucking her on the floor. Or the counter. I wasn’t picky.
“We’re never going to get this done if you keep looking at me like you’re gonna tackle me on the floor and fuck me senseless,” she said, staring deep into the bowl, as if she was purposefully avoiding making eye contact with me. Too tempting.
“Well, maybe you should let me fuck you again. Then I’ll get it out of my system and we can go back to working.” She looked up and raised one eyebrow.
“No. We have to finish. Then fuck.” I stepped toward her and she held out her spoon to stop me.
“Bad boy. Go back over there. No touching, no ogling.” I snorted.
“I can’t promise not to do either of those things. Not now that I’ve got a taste of you.” I made sure to keep eye contact as I licked my lips.
She groaned.
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because I can’t help it?”
She growled at me and I almost dived at her again. I was hard and that was definitely making it difficult to work near her.
Somehow, despite all the talking and the staring and the wanting, we got everything done. I came up behind her as she was washing her hands in the sink and grabbed her ass with both hands. She yelped and then the sound changed tone as I slid one hand around her front and touched her. Remi rested her head against my shoulder.
I stroked her and she ground herself against my hand. She came fast. And then she turned around to face me.
“Your turn.”
She whipped off the apron and folded it up before getting on her knees. I fumbled with the ties of my own apron so I could get the damn thing off.
As she leaned forward and smiled before taking my head into her mouth, I realized that I was never, ever, going to get enough of her.
****
It was very, very late by the time we actually put our clothes back on and decided we needed to go home.
“This doesn’t mean more than it has to mean,” Remi said as I ran my fingers through her hair. Much to my disappointment she’d whipped a brush out of her bag and brushed through all the tangles I’d created. Remi had great sex hair.
“I know,” I said, even though I wanted to tell her what it meant to me.
“So, don’t do anything stupid, like fall in love with me,” she said, poking me in the chest.
Too late, I thought.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I told her. She pushed herself up on her tiptoes and kissed me. She tasted like the ganache she’d taste-tested earlier.
“I’ll see you soon?” she said, shouldering her bag.
“Soon,” I agreed and she gave me a little wave as she walked out. I slumped against the counter and looked up at the ceiling.
“Fuck.”
****
I couldn’t sleep that night. My parents were already in bed when I got home, so I hadn’t had to deal with any questions. Not that it mattered. My mom would know because she always did.
So I got up and grabbed a piece of charcoal and a fresh page. I closed my eyes and breathed and let my hand go. What emerged was a picture of Remi, naked, laying on the counter, her face glowing with the aftermath of climax, a sleepy-sexy smile on her face.
I couldn’t get this girl out of my head and I didn’t want to. I’d fought things for as long as I could. Remington Wright had busted her way into my life and now I couldn’t imagine it without her.
She also made me want things again. Want to make art and maybe do something else with my life. She made me think about things in a new way, and I would forever be grateful for that, even if nothing else happened between us. Even if she packed up her stuff and headed back to New York tomorrow. At least I had had this.
I looked at the drawing of Remi and sighed. I had a lot of them, but I’d never shown them to her. I didn’t want her thinking I was obsessed with her. Because I was not. That much.
I groaned and put the drawing down and sat back in my creaky chair.
What was I going to do?
Remi
Both my parents were asleep when I snuck back into the house, so I was grateful for small victories. I took a much-needed shower and then brushed out my hair again before putting on my comfiest pajamas and sliding into bed.
My head was spinning with everything that had happened tonight. The sex had been... well, mind-blowing was an understatement. Huge understatement. I didn’t know where Brooks Benson had learned those skills but holy shit. Good boy. My knees were sore and the rest of me was a little sore too. Maybe we needed to get a mattress to put back in the kitchen for when it happened again.
Wait, what?
Sex with Brooks had been great, but I couldn’t let it happen again. Sex paved the way to love (at least in my experience) and that wasn’t something I could let happen. I’d gotten to try him out and that was it. I wasn’t going to do it again.
Of course my brain chose that moment to remind me of said sex. Good. So good.
Part of me wanted to call him up and have him sneak over so we could do it again. But then I’d have to try to stifle myself and I hated doing that. He seemed to enjoy the noise too.
Oh, shit, what was I going to do? I put the pillow over my face and screamed into it.
I should not have f
ucked him. That was a huge mistake because now I knew what I could have and keep having if I wanted it. I did want it but...
I screamed into the pillow again. I thought about texting him and telling him that it had all been a mistake and that we should never, ever, have sex again.
Deep down, though, it hadn’t felt like a mistake. I thought about the way he’d looked at me, the way our bodies had worked together. As if we’d been practicing. As if we’d planned it out beforehand.
I was in trouble and I was so conflicted about what to do. I needed advice and I needed someone to tell me what the right thing to do was because I sure as hell didn’t know.
****
I was in a bitchy mood the next morning and avoided leaving my room until both my parents were at work so I didn’t unleash on them. When they were gone I ended up drinking coffee on the porch, just sitting on the swing and thinking.
I heard his truck before I saw it. Some part of me wasn’t surprised at all that he’d show up here. He got out and walked slowly toward me, his hands in his pockets.
“You want some coffee?” I asked before he could say anything.
“Yeah, sure,” he said, so I went inside and came out with a cup. I knew he took it black like me.
He sat next to me on the swing. We hadn’t talked or texted since last night. Things looked very different in the harsh light of day.
We sipped our coffee for a little bit before he turned to me.
“So we need to talk about last night.” I nodded.
“Yeah. I think... I think we shouldn’t let it happen again,” I said before he could say something that might make me change my mind. I had to be firm and I had to be consistent. No matter how much I wanted him, letting myself fall in love with Brooks wasn’t for me.
He needed a local girl. Especially one that wasn’t a hot mess.
Brooks didn’t say anything after I told him. His lips pressed together. Definitely didn’t look happy, but why would he? I was sure he had some grand speech prepared or something to try to woo me. I had to shut that down before he started because I couldn’t resist him when he said the right things.
“If that’s how you feel,” he said, and then drained the rest of the coffee. “Then that’s how you feel. I hope we can still be friends?”
“Yeah, I still want to be friends. But I just... I just don’t want to muddy the waters, you know? I don’t regret last night, though. We were headed that way and it was kinda inevitable.” At least it felt that way for me.
Brooks held his cup in two hands.
“Yeah, inevitable,” he said in a soft voice and then cleared his throat.
“I just wanted to come over and see if you were okay.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” Things were getting awkward between us and I didn’t like it. I stood up.
“Do you want to come in and hang out or something? Maybe watch a movie.” He looked at me and then said, “Sure.”
****
“So, this is it,” I said, waving my hand. The house wasn’t half as big as his, but there were a lot less of us than the Bensons.
“It’s nice. Cozy,” he said.
“That’s one word for it.” I jerked my head toward the living room and we both sat on the couch.
“So, what do you want to watch?” I asked and he shrugged. I wasn’t a huge fan of this version of Brooks. Surly and quiet and unsmiling.
“Okay then. I’m putting on the loudest, most obnoxious reality show I can find,” I said, grabbing the remote and turning the TV on.
“This was a bad idea,” he said, sighing as I flipped through the channels. I wasn’t really paying attention to what I was doing because I was too busy trying to figure out what was up with him.
“Watching TV?” I asked, knowing that definitely wasn’t what he was talking about.
“This. I just can’t stop thinking about last night and I don’t know how you can sit here and act like it didn’t matter.” Wasn’t the girl supposed to say that kind of stuff?
“It did matter. That’s why I can’t handle it again.”
“Can’t handle it?” he asked, taking the remote out of my hand so I’d pay attention to him.
“Yes. I can’t handle it,” I said.
“Because you felt something for me and it scared you. That’s why. You’re freaking out and you’re turning your back on something you want for no fucking reason.”
I gaped at him. I’d never seen Brooks like this before. He was pissed. Really pissed. Guess he was one of those types who got quieter when he was upset, before he unleashed his anger.
“I have my own fucking reasons for doing things and they have nothing to do with you, Brooks Benson. Don’t tell me what to do.” His nostrils flared and I could tell he wanted to blow up at me, but was holding back.
“Go ahead. Say what you want to say. Get it all out. Give it to me.”
He let a breath out through his nose.
“I think you feel a lot of things for me that scare you. I think you put on a front that things don’t bother you, and things don’t affect you, but I think it’s really the opposite. I think you feel stuff way more than you admit. I know you felt something for me last night because I was there. I felt it too. And yes, it scares the shit out of me, but at least I can admit it. At least I can admit that I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.” His voice kept getting louder and I wanted to scream back at him, but he wasn’t done.
“Don’t bullshit me, Remington. I’m not an idiot.” He got off the couch and started for the door. I leapt up and followed him.
“Hey, you don’t get to yell at me and then walk away!” His back stiffened and he turned slowly.
“What the fuck do you want from me?” Well, wasn’t that the million-dollar question?
“I don’t know,” I said and he scoffed.
“Yes you do. You just can’t admit it.” With that, he was out the door and stomping toward his truck. Then he was skidding out of the driveway. I was angry and hurt, so I went back in the house and slammed the door.
Didn’t make me feel better.
Less than twenty-four hours ago we’d been fucking and now we were fighting. We never should have gotten naked together. We’d totally ruined everything.
Or I had.
A lot of what Brooks said slammed me in the gut with truth. I did feel the barbs that people threw at me. Always had. I hated that Brooks did what a lot of people hadn’t. He’d looked harder. He didn’t just assume I was a bitch and dismiss me. He saw through my defense mechanisms and down to the essence of who I was. And he liked what he saw. Liked me.
I sat on the couch in the living room and chewed on my nails. I didn’t want to throw myself into a relationship, but I also didn’t want to lose him completely and if I didn’t do something to repair things, that was going to happen.
What could I do?
I got up and went to the kitchen.
****
Several hours later I was sitting in my car in the Bensons’ driveway. Trying to get up the courage to go knock on the door.
But then he came out and walked down the porch. I took a deep breath and got out of the car.
“My parents were wondering why someone was hanging out in our driveway and sent me out to investigate,” he said as I leaned against my car. His jaw clenched tight. This was not going to be easy.
“I made you something,” I stuttered and went to the passenger side of the car and pulled out the cake.
It was marble on the inside and had white frosting with the words CAN WE BE FRIENDS? written in scrolling letters on the top.
I held out the cake and the minute he looked at it, his face cracked and he tried to hide a smile.
“Of course you would make me a cake,” he said. I shrugged.
“Baking: it’s what I do.”
He sighed and I could tell he was still trying to be mad.
“I know we can’t undo last night and I don’t want to, but I also don’t want to lose you. Y
ou’re like the only person in this town that I actually like. I mean, other than your sister.” I guess I had a real affinity for the Benson family.
“Come on,” he said, gesturing toward the house.
“Wait, I can’t come in. I can’t look at your parents right now.” He chuckled.
“They won’t bite. Seriously, come in. I want to bust into that cake and I can’t really do that here.” I bit my lip but then followed him into the house. His parents didn’t seem to be around. Maybe they were giving us some privacy?
Brooks and I went into the kitchen and I set the cake down on the counter as he got out some plates and silverware. I cut us both pieces and put them on plates. We stood as we ate. Brooks closed his eyes and sighed.
“Everything you make is good. It should be illegal,” he said through a mouthful. I did a little half-curtsey.
“Thanks. And I’m sorry that I’m all over the place. I’m sorry I’ve been jerking you around. I just... I need us to just be friends. Can we go back to that?” We really couldn’t go back to exactly the way things were before, but I still wanted us to try to be friends again. Without the kissing.
“And what does that mean, Remi? Friends? What does that mean to you?”
I opened my mouth and for a second I couldn’t say it.
“I think we should keep things platonic. For now.” His eyes narrowed and then he looked down at his plate.
“Is that really what you want?”
NO.
“Yes.”
“Okay, then. That’s what we’ll do.” I breathed a sigh of relief and we finished our pieces of cake in silence. It wasn’t an ideal reconciliation, but it was as good as I thought I was going to get.
“Oh, something else I thought of for you,” I said. I had no idea how he was going to take this, but I was doing it anyway. “You could totally set up a store on Etsy to sell prints of some of your work. It’s super cheap to get them made and then maybe you could make some money without actually, technically, selling your art. What do you think?”