Always You: A Lilac Bay Novel (Friends with Benefits) (23 page)

I should have listened to him. Should have dropped it. But that same spark seemed to be dancing between us right now, the one I had felt in the alley that night. Only now, it didn’t really feel like anger.

“Why were you so upset about it? About me seeing him.”

He sighed, watching my face for a long moment. “You know why.”

“No, I don’t.”

“For the same reason that I kissed you in that stupid skit.”

“That was in the script.”

His eyebrow went up, a little hint of his smirking smile playing around his mouth. “Not the way I did it.”

“Andrew,” I whispered. I didn’t know what I was feeling, couldn’t even stop my thoughts from spinning. I felt like we were on the edge of something big and scary—so why was I so eager to jump? I had the sudden thought that I should be afraid right now. But the fear didn’t come.

He slid towards me a little on the couch. “Why were you so mad about Jill?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

“I think you do.”

“I—”

His lips were on mine before I could even attempt to come up with an excuse. And they felt just the way they had on stage that day. Warm and strong and insistent and so very right.

Until he pulled away, and the entire room seemed to drop ten degrees in temperature.

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

Shouldn’t was just about the farthest thing from my mind. “Why not?”

He shook his head, his eyes intent on mine. “Because it’s the kind of thing that we can’t take back.”

I knew he had a point. I knew caution was the smart course, that there was way too much to lose by being reckless. But my mouth seemed to have a completely different agenda. “Maybe we won’t want to take it back.”

He swallowed, and I could see some struggle playing out on his face. “You’ve been drinking.”

“Not that much. I didn’t even finish my glass.”

He sucked in a deep gulp of air. “You don’t need to convince me, Riley,” he said, his eyes glued to my lips. “You just need to ask me.”

I didn’t pause to give it a second thought. “Kiss me, Andrew.”

And he did. He kissed me until I couldn’t breathe, until all thoughts of the show and my failure had been chased from my head.

“I think I get it now,” I whispered against his mouth.

“Get what?” His breathing was fast and ragged and it made me feel pretty damn amazing.

“Why you’re so popular with the ladies.”

He made a scathing sound in the back of his throat. “You know, I’m not nearly as promiscuous as you think I am.” I pulled back and raised my eyebrows. “You don’t have to look so incredulous,” he muttered. “It’s true.”

“Andrew, I’ve
seen
you.”

“You’ve seen me flirting and kissing. Which I do because I’m lonely as hell.”

That pulled the smile right from my face. “What do you mean you’re lonely?”

“The girl I really wanted to be with wasn’t interested.”

“Andrew.” I didn’t think anything else could affect me as much as what had already happened that night, but I was wrong. Had Rebecca been right all along? I wanted to ask him, but the fear that had been absent moments before was finally kicking in. Asking him that question felt too big, too scary.

But the kissing—that I could handle.

So I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him close, trailing my lips over his until he groaned, impatient, and took control of the kiss again, pressing his mouth against mine, his tongue trailing over my lips.

Holy shit, he was good at this. His hands came up to frame my face and I actually whimpered, the feel of his skin on mine was that good. It made me want more, and I slipped my hands under his shirt, running my fingers across the strong muscles of his back. His movements against my mouth became more frantic, almost desperate now, and then he was pulling my T-shirt up, and holy crap, this was
Andrew
. But it felt too good to stop and think about it.

A little voice in the back of my head told me I was being reckless, that this friendship was the last thing in the world I should be messing with. But it was overwhelmed quickly by the sound of his breathing, by the little whimpers coming from my own throat, by the way he was whispering my name as he trailed kisses over my chin, down to my neck. Then my shirt was gone, tossed behind me somewhere, and he stopped what he was doing to stare at me, his eyes darting across my bare chest, my stomach, my neck, every inch of skin that he could see. It was too much, the way he was looking at me, and I was starting to feel scared.

“Andrew,” I said, and he grabbed me again, pulling me close so that I didn’t feel afraid.

He pushed me gently so I was on my back, his weight heavy on top of me, and I had a flash of waking up in this position on the couch, Andrew at the other end asleep. Would I see him asleep here in the morning? I couldn’t imagine stopping this, even if I probably should.

“You’re thinking too much,” he whispered against my skin.

“I am not.”

“You even argue with me when we’re making out,” he muttered, and then I couldn’t stop giggling. He abandoned my collarbone to look up at me, his eyes bright and happy enough to take my breath away. “Should I be offended by this laughing fit?”

“Absolutely not. Come here.” He slid forward until his face was at my level again and I grabbed both sides of it, kissing him long and hard.

And then suddenly I was moving, lifting up in the air, and I realized that he’d picked me up, that he was carrying me into my bedroom, and it didn’t even feel scary or weird.

It felt absolutely right.

I
woke
up the next morning convinced it would all be a dream. I could feel Andrew’s chest under my chin, could feel him breathing, could feel his body heat, but still I thought it was a dream. Because nothing in real life was this good.

He snored a little, and my eyes snapped open. It was really Andrew. In my bed. Asleep and snoring after the absolute best sex of my life.

I stretched under the blanket, wiggling my toes. I wanted to laugh or shout or—

“Are you dancing under the covers?”

“No.” Wiggling didn’t count as dancing, did it?

His eyes opened, a slow smile spreading across his face. “It’s okay. I kind of feel like dancing too.”

My grin was so big it felt like it might break my cheeks. “How’d you sleep?”

“Great.” He pulled me closer, his arm slung across my chest like this was the most normal thing in the world, the two of us in bed together. “How ’bout you?”

“Pretty damn good.”

I pressed my lips against his chest, smiling when he sighed happily. “You hungry?” I asked. “I think it’s my turn to make you eggs this time.”

“This time?” he asked and I pulled back to see his eyebrow raised. “I’m pretty sure this is the
first
time. I think I would have remembered if we did that before.”

I laughed. “I meant the last time you slept over.”

“Oh, okay then.”

I grabbed his T-shirt from the floor next to the bed and pulled it on before jumping out of the bed.

“Completely unnecessary addition,” he murmured as I left the room.

I was actually humming while I fixed the eggs, so that should have been my first clue that I was in big trouble.

While the eggs fried I filled Gordie’s water and his food bowl, leaving both on his mat when I brought the plates back to the bedroom. Andrew was sitting up in bed, my pink paisley comforter pulled up to his waist. The sight of him there, so large he seemed to dwarf the bed, but completely at home, took my breath away.

“That smells good,” he said, reaching for the plate.

“I’ll go grab the juice.”

“I can get it—”

I kissed him to shut him up. “I think I owe you. We missed a few lunches last week.”

Something like regret passed over his eyes, but he kissed me back until I wondered if we needed the juice—or the food for that matter—after all. “One sec,” I murmured once I’d managed to pull away.

The glasses were waiting just where I had left them, but Gordie was no longer at his bowl. He was in the middle of the kitchen and it looked like he was trying to bring up a hairball. I was about to make some comment about his kitchen manners when I realized no sound was coming from his throat.

“Oh my God. Gordie?”

I didn’t realize that I had screamed it until Andrew was at my side. He took one look at the cat and scooped him up, holding him over one arm and smacking his back, just like performing the Heimlich on a baby. He did it twice more before turning him over and prying open his jaws. Gordie struggled in his arms, scratching every inch of skin he could get, clearly panicked.

“I see it,” Andrew muttered. “Riley, hold his jaws like this.” I did as he asked and Andrew shoved two fingers into the cat’s mouth, pulling out a small white object.

“Chicken bone,” he muttered, tossing it on the counter. Gordie was making a hacking noise, still scratching, and Andrew gently set him on the table. He hacked a few times, shook himself, then jumped from the table, darting from the room like a shot.

“Gordie!” I called after him.

“He’s okay, Riley.” Andrew grabbed my shoulders and turned me to face him. “He’s fine, I got it.”

“I had chicken the other night,” I cried. “I must have dropped a bone!”

“It’s okay. He’s fine. Hey.” His expression shifted from comforting to concerned. “Don’t cry, Riley.”

“I left him to eat alone! I never leave him to eat alone!”

“He wasn’t alone. You were in the house.”

“But I wasn’t with him!”

He pulled me against his bare chest. “He’s okay.”

I couldn’t get the sight of his panicked eyes out of my mind. He looked just like Rebecca, that day she’d choked while I was babysitting.

“When—Beccs choked—” I tried, but I was crying too hard to make the words come.

“It’s okay,” Andrew said, rubbing my back. “What about Beccs?”

“When she choked that time she had the worst sore throat for days. What if he—what if he scratched something, or—”

He pulled back and looked down at me. “You want to take him to the vet?”

I felt weak with relief. “You don’t mind?”

“’Course not. We wouldn’t want Gordie to have a sore throat.”

I let out a weak laugh. “Thanks, Andrew.”

* * *

A
fter congratulating
Andrew on his quick thinking, Dr. Miller assured me that Gordie seemed to be no worse for the wear. “We could get a quick X-ray,” he said, when I didn’t seem very convinced. “Just to check there’s nothing lodged further down. But I don’t really think it’s necessary—”

“Oh, yes, please, let’s do that,” I interrupted.

“I think we’d feel better,” Andrew said.

“Sure,” the vet said, reaching for Gordie—who promptly darted to the far side of the examining table. “Riley, why don’t you carry him,” he suggested. “He’s had a traumatic day.”

“Will you do it?” I asked Andrew. “He’ll be more calm with you.”

“I
am
his favorite person in the world,” Andrew agreed, winking at me. “Let’s see if that still holds up now that I’ve stuck my fingers down his throat.”

To my relief, Gordie went with Andrew without complaint.

“Why don’t you go outside for a minute,” he said as he passed. “You’re white as a ghost.”

“I’ll wait.”

He shook his head. “Go get some air, Ri. I won’t leave him.”

Stepping into the hallway, I ran smack into Jill. She was dressed in a dark purple velour sweat suit, her hair up in a ponytail, holding a fluffy white Pomeranian in her purse. Her mouth dropped open at the sight of Andrew cradling my cat to his chest. “Oh, how sweet!”

“Morning, Jill,” he said, shooting me a worried glance. “Uh, I should get him back—”

“Go ahead,” I told him.

“Riley, is that your cat? What’s wrong?”

“He had a little choking accident this morning,” I told her. “We’re just getting him checked out.”

“And Andrew is helping you.” Her expression turned dreamy. “The way he was cradling that poor animal in those arms of his—”

“Okay, Jill, dial it back a few.”

She held up the purse. “This is Buttercup. She’s my mother’s. A little monster, too, don’t let that face fool you.”

“Are you heading out?” I asked, gesturing toward the door. “I was going to get some air.”

“Good idea. You don’t look your best, Riley.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, following her out. It was a gray morning, the clouds above threatening rain, but the fresh air felt good against my face. I leaned against the brick wall, taking a keeping breath, trying to banish the last of the panic. Gordie was okay. Everything was okay. I felt the strongest urge to call Rebecca, to make sure that she, too, was fine, but I knew that was just overreacting.

“You know, Riley,” Jill said, joining me against the brick. “I really envy you.”

I glanced down at her sweat suit, hugging every one of her perfect curves. Her hair was in a messy bun on her head and somehow even that looked feminine and sexy. On the other hand, I was wearing my baseball t-shirt and a pair of wrinkled basketball shorts I’d found in my panic to get out of the house.

“Why on earth would you envy me?”

She sighed, and suddenly she didn’t look like the sexy femme fatale I usually took her for. She looked—kind of small. Vulnerable.

“I just think you’re lucky. That’s all. With Andrew.”

I tensed. Did she somehow know what had happened last night? That was crazy. But we were both here first thing in the morning and maybe I still had sex hair and—

“I mean, I had a good time with him, you know,” she said, and the whirring in my brain screeched to a halt.

“You and Andrew, huh?” I said, trying and failing to keep my voice steady.

“Well, the whole sneaking off to kiss was really fun, don’t get me wrong. And that boy can
flirt
—”

“Wait.” I grabbed her arm. “You guys didn’t—you didn’t have sex?”

“Well, not yet anyway.” She looked a little wistful, but something in my chest seemed to loosen and expand. He hadn’t slept with her.
I’m not nearly as promiscuous as you think I am.
Had he really meant that?

Jill was still talking—and her next words seemed to suck all of the air out of the immediate area.

“I mean, I’ve been with guys like him before, you know? The player guy. And it’s fun, it really is. They know what they’re doing. I’m not knocking it.” She shook her head. “But players always leave. It’s kind of their thing. And sure, it can be great while it lasts, but—sorry, I’m babbling.”

I wondered if she could see the panic growing in my eyes.

“I’m just saying you’re lucky. Because you have that guy as your friend. And you know he’ll never leave. He won’t move on to the next girl.” She shrugged. “’Cause its not just sex with you guys.”

Oh, God.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I managed. “Just worried. You know. About the cat.”

She patted my arm. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. I’ll be thinking good thoughts, okay? You let me know how he is.”

I watched her walk away, her hips swaying in her velour yoga pants, her words spinning through my mind.

* * *

I
was
sure that Andrew could tell that something was off with me, but I think he put it down to lingering worry about the cat. Still, I was relieved when he got a phone call a few minutes after returning to my apartment.

“It’s my dad,” he said. “I should take it.”

He ducked into my bedroom with his cell and I curled up on the couch with Gordie. Going to the vet always wiped him out, which meant he submitted to me petting him for much longer than he would normally tolerate. I was thankful for that. I needed something to do with my hands, something to distract me from what Jill had said.

You can’t freak out about this. Sleeping with Andrew doesn’t mean he’s going to change. Look at how he was with Gordie this morning. He acted like your best friend. We would be able to hang onto that even if other parts of our relationship changed. Wouldn’t we?

Andrew emerged from my bedroom a few minutes later, scowling. “I have to go help my dad with something,” he said. “They’re short on crew for this project.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry. He’s not going to drop it.”

“No, it’s fine.” I wondered if he could tell how relieved I was. A little space from him was exactly what I needed to get my thoughts together.

“Don’t get up,” he said when I started to move. “He looks comfortable like that.” He came over to the couch, running a hand over Gordie’s head. “Feel better, buddy.”

“I think he’ll be okay. Thank you, Andrew.”

“Don’t mention it.” He looked down at me for a long moment, his expression uncertain. I swallowed, feeling a little sick. Was it already going to get awkward between us?

“I’ll call you later,” he finally said, leaning down to kiss my cheek. And then he was gone, leaving me alone to panic over the ramifications of what we had just done.