Risking It All (18 page)

Memphis pushed her more firmly against the door and moved her legs so they draped over his arms, opening her to him even more. His hips moved in quick, hard jerks, bringing Kennedy closer and closer to the edge until she tumbled over, crying out his name as she came.

Memphis stilled between her legs a few moments later, their breathing harsh and uneven. He rested his forehead against hers until his breathing slowed, and then he carefully lowered her legs so she had no choice but to stand on her own, and pulled away from her. He yanked on his jeans quickly, paying a little too much attention to his belt, it seemed.

Kennedy shifted and tugged on the hem of her sweater, trying to cover up as much as possible. Memphis was avoiding her, looking everywhere but at her, and it was making her feel even more exposed. Quickly, she bent to grab her underwear and jeans off the floor and slipped them on. She moved away from the door, dropping her eyes to the floor as she went to the kitchen, not knowing what to say or do.

Memphis grabbed his jacket off the back of the couch and pushed his feet into his boots before she had even moved five feet. Kennedy turned around, but the frantic look of pure panic in his eyes stopped her from saying anything.

“I, uh, gotta find Bradley,” he said, already opening the door. “I’ll see you later.”

Before she could utter a word, or even nod, he bolted, slamming the door behind him and leaving Kennedy to stand there staring after him. She slumped against the bar stool, feeling confused, shocked and, deep down, even a little cheap.

Chapter 10

Ignoring her stomach’s hungry growl, Kennedy striped off her clothes and filled the huge bathtub. She slipped beneath the warm water and closed her eyes. It was only then that what she and Memphis had done only moments ago really hit her.

    She just had sex with her best friend. Not the slow, gentle sex she was used to but hard, fast, this-could-be-the-last-time-I-ever-come sex. Memphis Adams had nailed her against the door.

The thought struck her as funny, and Kennedy snorted. The snorting soon turned to giggling until her body was shaking from laughing so hard and she had tears in her eyes. She quickly wiped them away, afraid if she stopped to wonder whether they were really from laughing or not she would break down and cry for real.

She inhaled deeply, trying to stop the hysterical sound and calm herself. She exhaled, closing her eyes again as she blew the air out through her pursed lips. She needed to get a hold of herself. Although laughing about it was definitely better than running away from it as fast as you could.

Kennedy pulled her knees to her chest, instantly sobered at the reminder of Memphis leaving. What was his problem? If anyone was going to freak and run off it should have been her, shouldn’t it? This wasn’t new territory for him; he was all about the fast fucks and casual hookups. It wasn’t like he had anything to feel guilty about.

She, on the other hand, should be feeling a tremendous amount of guilt. She had the boyfriend. Just because they’d had a fight and parted on bad terms didn’t mean they still weren’t together. And yet, after countless times of reassuring Brooks that nothing ever did or would happen with Memphis—that they were nothing more than friends—she had done the exact thing he had accused her of in the first place.

Cheater.

The word rang loudly in her head. It was the one thing she swore she would never do while in a relationship.

Cheater.

Kennedy stretched out and sank under the water, wishing her sins and guilt would magically wash away . . . but they didn’t. She surfaced for air and sat motionless, waiting to feel something for the betrayal of Brooks, but she felt nothing.

Kennedy slowly opened her eyes and stared at her toes under the water. What did that mean? What did it mean to feel no guilt, no remorse over being unfaithful to the man you had been with for two years? Did it make her an uncaring, selfish bitch? Did it mean any feelings she had for Brooks were gone?

Or was it more complicated than that? After everything she and Brooks had been through, every fight they had and every time he had forgotten her, did it get to the point where she was so disconnected from him that she didn’t even feel like she was cheating on him?

Was there anything left of them to cheat on?

Even if there wasn’t anything left of them, that didn’t mean what she did was okay. Neither one had ended it, and even if she was emotionally detached from her relationship, the truth was she was still
in
the relationship. But even knowing that didn’t bring any of the guilty feelings bubbling to the surface.

Everything about the situation was wrong. Her. Memphis. Brooks. It didn’t matter which way she looked at it, in the end all of them were going to be screwed. And it was all her fault.

Kennedy pondered that for a minute. Was it all her fault? Memphis had made the move, but she didn’t stop him. Or maybe she had made that first move by blurting out everything she felt. Still, she didn’t stop him. As much as Brooks didn’t deserve what she had done, it wasn’t like he was innocent, either. Maybe if he had been there for her, she wouldn’t feel so drawn to Memphis.

Kennedy scowled at the lie. She knew that wasn’t true. Her attraction to Memphis had nothing to do with Brooks’s inability to pay attention to anything but his work. What she felt for Memphis had nothing to do with Brooks at all. It had always been there, creeping closer and closer to the surface over the years. It was only a matter of time before it broke free of the tiny little box she had put it in. And damn, had it broken free.

And still, no guilt.

Kennedy grabbed the soft wash cloth and soap from the basket. As she lathered up, she wondered if any of it really mattered. Memphis clearly wasn’t capable of dealing with the fallout or else he wouldn’t have disappeared right after they had sex. Either that or he didn’t
want
to deal with it. Maybe he feared she would think there was something more to them and become all clingy and needy, expecting him to be more than the friend he had been all these years.

The truth was she didn’t expect it to change anything. She knew Memphis. She had no delusions that for him this was just a twelve-year itch that he had finally been able to scratch. She was fine with that.

Instantly she knew that was another lie. She wasn’t fine with it. Being nothing more than Memphis’s itch was not okay at all. There was nothing she could do about that, however. 

For her it could just be explained that she’d reached that weak moment where she could no longer fight her attraction to him, and she caved. Nothing more than a fraction of time that she lost her head, but once it was over and done with and she was thinking straight, she knew it could never happen again.

And she had to be fine with that.

And Brooks?

Brooks. If she went back home and discovered that she truly no longer felt anything for him, then there would be no reason to tell him. If she was going to break up with him anyway, why add salt to the wound and tell him about her little vacation tryst? But if she went home and discovered she still did care for him . . .

Would she tell him then?

She’d have to, wouldn’t she? She couldn’t continue their relationship if she kept this kind of secret from him. Cheating was one thing, but lying about it and covering it up was so much worse in her mind. Either way, whether she broke up with Brooks or told him about Memphis, she could still end up alone.

And that was something she wasn’t sure she could handle.

Kennedy dropped the cloth and stood, grabbing the towel off the counter and wrapping it around her body before stepping out of the tub. As she dried, her thoughts turned to Memphis, and she suddenly realized how pissed she was at him for his actions.

The bastard just left her—like she was some sleazy pick-up he could toss out with the garbage. She was more to him than the one-night stands he brought home, and she deserved to be treated better than that. Who gave a flying fuck if he was freaked by what they had done? Kennedy was, too, but she wasn’t flying out the door. He could have had the balls—not to mention the decency—to stay and talk it out.

She’d be damned if she was going to hide in the bedroom all day again. He was going to face her whether he liked it or not. They didn’t have to talk about what had happened, they never had to acknowledge it again if that would make him happy, but there was no way in hell she was letting him avoid her and brush her off like the bitter and discarded back in college.

She was better than that.
They
were better than that.

Kennedy tightened the towel around herself and yanked open the bathroom door, first in search of clothes and then to find the ass in question and give him a piece of her mind.

As it turned out, she didn’t have to look too far.

Kennedy almost tripped over her own feet when she stomped out of the bathroom and saw Memphis sitting on the bed looking sheepish and uncomfortable. She stopped, pulling the towel even closer to her body, and stared at him. All the words she had intended to say died on her lips from just one look at him.

Memphis lifted his eyes to meet hers and gave her a half smile.

“I’m an asshole,” he said, shrugging as if that explained everything.

“Oh good, you saved me the trip of finding you and telling you something you already knew,” she replied, hoping it was more convincing to pull off snarky in a towel than it was in a snowsuit.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did it, but all of a sudden it was you and me and sex and . . .” He shook his head and gave her another helpless shrug. “You.”

“Yes, Memphis, I’m aware who was involved. But you’re right, it is me. And it’s you. It’s
us
,” Kennedy said. “And this isn’t us. It’s not you to leave and make me feel so incredibly cheap and used like that.”

Memphis stood and crossed the small space between them in three strides, pulling her into his arms before she could move away or protest.

“I never meant to make you feel that way, Kennedy. Christ. I
am
a fucking asshole.” He tangled his hands in her hair as she laid her head on his chest.

“If you’re waiting for me to disagree, it’s not going to happen,” Kennedy said, earning her a soft chuckle.

“Maybe not disagree, but can you forgive me?”

Kennedy lifted her head and looked up at him.

“Don’t ever make me feel that way again.” She hoped her warning was clear.

Memphis slowly shook his head.

“Never.”

“Okay.”

They stared at each other as the seconds ticked by. Slowly enough to give her the chance to pull away, Memphis lowered his mouth to hers. This kiss was everything their previous kisses weren’t. It was soft and gentle, with only their lips exploring each other. There was no rush to tangle tongues, no urgency to nip at flesh and hurry things along. It was a seal to his promise to never make her feel like shit again.

Kennedy broke the kiss before it could become more and inhaled a shaky breath. She licked her lips, murmuring, “I need to get dressed.”

Memphis nodded but didn’t drop his hands from her. Instead he ran them up and down her back, his touch light and teasing on her skin before it disappeared as he caressed her over the towel. Kennedy shivered as he drew his fingers back up and over her shoulders, dragging the tips across her collarbone and down to trail along the towel, just skimming the area of her chest that wasn’t hidden.

“Did I hurt you?” His voice so low Kennedy wasn’t sure he had actually spoken at all. She narrowed her eyes at him and he jerked his head toward the door. “Out there.”

“Oh.” She shook her head. “No, you didn’t hurt me.”

“I feel as if I should apologize for taking you like that, only . . .”

“Only what?” she whispered.

“Only I’m not sorry,” he said, playing with the fold that held her towel in place.

“Neither am I.” He looked at her, raising his eyebrows. “Bro—” She stopped herself, not wanting to say his name and bring him into it. “I . . . every time has always been . . . nice.”

“Nice?” Memphis smirked. “And that wasn’t nice?”

“You know what I mean.” He stayed silent, and she huffed because she knew he wanted an explanation. “It’s always been careful, gentle . . . loving.” She dropped her eyes, suddenly shy of her confession. “I like it a little rough.”

“So no regrets, then?” He sounded hoarse.

She shook her head. “No regrets.”

“Good.” He smiled and took a step back. “I’ll let you get dressed.”

Kennedy watched him walk to the door.

“Memphis?” She stopped him just as he was about to walk out. “It wasn’t nice,” she told him when he turned to look at her. She grinned at him when he frowned. “There was nothing nice about it, which made it insanely hot.”

He returned her grin with a wicked one of his own and said, “You haven’t seen hot yet.” He winked at her and left, closing the door behind him and leaving Kennedy to melt into a puddle of lust on the floor.

~*~

Kennedy’s parka landed in her lap, drawing her eyes away from the book she was reading and up to Memphis.

“Put that on and come with me,” he said with a grin.

She groaned and dropped her head against the couch.

“We’re going back outside? It’s gotten so much colder since this afternoon.” She didn’t care how whiney she sounded; the last thing she wanted was to freeze her ass off after just getting cozy for the night.

They had spent the afternoon cross-country skiing through the woods surrounding the park so Memphis could get the nature shots he needed. After a late lunch, they had run into Bradley, who insisted they accompany him fishing. He wanted Memphis to photograph the side of the resort that would appeal more to the men and activities they would be interested in.

Never having ice fished before, the experience had been a new one for Kennedy, and she found she enjoyed it far more than she thought she would.

She was also incredibly thankful there was no awkwardness between her and Memphis. Throughout the afternoon, she would sometimes catch him looking at her, and she’d steal glimpses at him, but it was almost as if the morning never happened. It was still just her and Memphis, and she breathed a little easier knowing their slipup wouldn’t change anything between them.