Going for Broke: Oakland Hills Friends to Lovers Romantic Comedy (Friends with Benefits) (13 page)

A
fter a few minutes
, Ian’s heart returned to its normal rhythm, and he felt like he might be able to breathe properly in another five.

Billie was motionless beneath him, her eyes closed. He was still inside her, but knew he couldn’t stay there or the condom would slip off.

She was probably on the pill, but he imagined what a pregnancy would mean for them and their families. Billie had been afraid to tell Jane about him fixing up the house; news that he’d impregnated her would be slightly more intimidating. She might leave the country rather than face her sister with that bombshell.

Kissing her pretty eyebrow, he withdrew and went to the bathroom, where his small shop towel hung still over the shower curtain rod.

He was glad he hadn’t gone home for a shower. If he had, he didn’t think he’d be here now.

The doorbell rang, reminding him he’d ordered dinner for them a little while ago, back when he’d thought it would be delivered before what they’d just done, not after.

Well, damn. Here he was, stuck in the bathroom naked again. This time without even his dirty clothes to cover himself.

The bell rang again, but soon he heard Billie’s friendly voice and then the door banging shut. He’d have to pay her back for dinner. The restaurant he’d chosen wasn’t cheap, and he’d ordered a feast.

To his surprise, even though the door had closed, he heard a man’s voice and then Billie’s again.

Ian eyed the shop towel, estimating its square footage. Not nearly enough to cover nearly enough of him.

He waited, straining to hear what was happening in the hallway. They didn’t come closer but continued talking near the front door.

Finally he heard the door slam shut again. And a few seconds later, Billie’s voice just outside the bathroom.

“Coast is clear,” she said, sounding amused. Then she mumbled something.

He opened the door, taking in the delicious sight of her wearing his T-shirt over her jeans. “What did you say?”

“Nothing.” Her eyes twinkled. “Guess who that was?”

“No, you said something. What was it?”

Eyes darting to one side, she lifted a hand to her hair and twirled a curly strand around her finger. “I said, ‘unlike before.’”

He frowned, thinking over the exact words. “You saw me.”

She nodded, twirling the hair more furiously. “You called my name.”

“You didn’t answer.”

“I came out to see what you wanted.” Her gaze lowered. “You were facing the other way.”

“I needed a towel.”

“I’m not sure about that.”

He grinned, catching her around the waist. His shirt made her even sexier than usual. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I hadn’t decided yet what I was going to do.”

“What finally helped you decide?” He nuzzled her neck, caressing her breast, dragging his thumb over the nipple until it puckered. “It was my ass, wasn’t it?”

“Don’t joke. I told you I was weak.”

Hearing the faint sadness in her voice, he drew back to see her face. “You’re amazing,” he said.

“You didn’t ask me who was at the door.”

“Wasn’t it the food?”

“No. It was Todd.”

He must’ve stared at her uncomprehendingly.

“From next door,” she continued. “The cat guy.”

His hold on her tightened. The guy had come inside for a while. “What did he want?”

“I’m not sure. He seemed like he was complaining about the debris box and the storage unit and your truck taking up all the parking spaces,” she said. “But then he asked me out on a date.”

“What did you say?”

“Well, I figured we’d be done here by eight, so he’s coming over then.” She captured his nipple between her little fingers and twisted. When he doubled over, laughing through the pain, she added, “It would be better if you got dressed before he gets here. I don’t want him to feel uncomfortable.”

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her close, happier than he’d felt in a long time. “Smartass,” he said, kissing her.

The doorbell rang again.

“Finally,” he said. “That should be the Indian food.” He caught the bottom of his T-shirt and pulled it over her head, not willing to greet the delivery guy without it. Then he jogged into the bedroom for his jeans and credit card.

When he went to the front door, she was peeking out at him from the bathroom. “Don’t be surprised if Todd asks you to leave,” she said. “You make the cat nervous.”

He laughed again. She always made him laugh.

It was not Todd, thank God, but their dinner, and in moments the entire house was filled with the spicy, savory scent of curry. His stomach growled, reminding him he’d had a long day of hard labor, followed by some of the hottest sex of his life, without a decent meal.

She joined him in the kitchen wearing her own shirt again, her cheeks pink, her brown hair loose and mussed, her eyes warm.

As he sat her at the chair next to him, she glanced up, just a glance, and smiled into his eyes for a quick moment before reaching for her glass. He froze, feeling his heart squeeze in his chest like a peach caught in a cast-iron bench vise.

“This looks amazing,” she said, audibly inhaling as she looked into the half-dozen containers one by one. “Where’s yours?”

When he didn’t laugh, she turned to look at him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

The handle on the vice turned another ninety degrees. He managed to smile at her.

“Nothing,” he said lightly, kissing her on the forehead. “Let’s eat.”

* * *

B
illie woke
up in the dark with her cheek pressed against Ian’s chest. In fact, from the sticky feel under her face, she was pretty sure she’d been drooling on it in her sleep.

How appropriate. He was delicious.

Wiping her lips with the back of her hand, and using the corner of the bedsheet to delicately pat his damp chest hair, she squinted at the clock near the bed. 3:41. A siren wailed in the distance, fading as it passed.

“Morning,” Ian said.

She dropped the sheet, startled by his deep voice. “I thought you were asleep.”

“You were drooling over me. I thought I might get lucky.”

“Actually,” she said, “I was drooling
on
you. There’s a difference.”

“Now you tell me.” He reached down and pulled her on top of him, his powerful arms lifting her easily before his hands began roving over her body again.

Drowsy, she bumped her chin against his jaw, kissed it to make it better, found his mouth there instead, and spent the next few minutes making out while she was half-asleep. After dinner, they’d made love again, longer and slower than they had the first time, and she’d only fallen asleep a couple of hours ago. In other words, she was tired, and even his kisses couldn’t keep her awake anymore.

He pulled the sheet, which had fallen to one side, over her shoulders, then caressed her through the thin fabric. Lying on top of him made her a little uncomfortable, in part because her breasts were large and round and tilted her sideways, ruining her balance, and also because she could hear the hitch in his breathing from supporting her weight. But she decided he’d inform her if he was dying, and went limp.

“I have to go,” he said right as she was drifting off into a very nice dream about him French-kissing her over a plate of tandoori chicken.

No, she was just remembering something that had actually happened. She knew what her favorite dish at an Indian restaurant was going to be from now on.

Until everything crashed and burned, that is, and her heart was broken and Jane refused to talk to her again. Then she’d have to order something like the spinach dish that tasted good but looked like baby poo.

“Your sister is coming first thing in the morning, isn’t she?” he asked.

W
ith a groan
, Billie rolled off Ian’s chest, careful not to unman him as she did so, and flopped onto her back at his side. The bed didn’t have room for both of them, and her right butt cheek hung off the edge of the mattress.

It was best for him to go home, if just so they could get some sleep.

“Yeah, she said she’d be here at eight.” She felt her butt cheek slip off another inch. “I’m not sure if she’s kidding.”

“Probably shouldn’t risk it,” he said.

As if they hadn’t risked it already. As if they could ever go back to the way they were before.

“Probably shouldn’t.” She tried to roll gracefully out of the bed, instead falling onto her hands and knees with her big beautiful butt in the air and a stray fragment of plywood embedded in her kneecap.

He must’ve heard her pained intake of breath, because he climbed out and knelt beside her. “What happened?”

“Just a splinter.” She pinched it between her fingernails and plucked it out. “It’ll be nice when the floors are finished.”

“Just say the word,” he said.

“Word.”

Chuckling, he lifted her with him to their feet. “I’ll call the contractor.”

She realized then she’d gotten carried away. “No, wait. I’ll need to talk to Jane. We’re going to make a budget. We can’t afford to do everything at once.”

“Billie,” he said, stroking the hair away from her face. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

It was dark and his hands felt good, but she came wide awake. “Just because I slept with you doesn’t mean you’re going to take over my life.”

He dropped his hands and took a step back. She suddenly felt the chill in the room. It was still February, and the night was cold.

Maybe her tone had been sharper than she’d intended. Rubbing her upper arms, she said, “I mean, I can’t take your money.”

“My money.” He said it as if the words tasted bad.

“I’d feel weird about it.”

“I’m not offering because we slept together,” he said. “You’ve got to know that.”

She did. She knew. “It doesn’t really matter what I think. What would I tell Jane?”

“I could talk to her,” he said. “We’re old friends. Maybe she wouldn’t have a problem with it. She’s cool with me doing the work, which actually costs me more than paying someone else to do it. Lost hours at the office add up. She’ll see the logic of it.”

The reminder of what he was giving them, time or money, didn’t make her feel better. “But I won’t.”

In the darkness, she thought she felt him smile. “No, you’re not as logical.”

She didn’t want him talking to Jane. It was bad enough they’d—

Facing her sister in a few hours wasn’t going to be easy. “Are you going to leave or what? I’m naked and I’m freezing.”

“I’m finding it difficult to leave,” he said, cupping her left breast and sucking the nipple into his mouth. Delicious sensations shot down her belly and her body informed her she was ready for more lovemaking in spite of her exhaustion.

In the end, he was the one to break away. After a final caress and suckle, he straightened, kissed her on the lips, and tried to guide her back down to the bed. “Sleep. Don’t see me to the door.”

She wiggled past him and bent over to get the quilt. Wrapping it around her shoulders, she moved to the doorway, stepping lightly to avoid any other shrapnel. “I’ll need to lock up after you.”

They were both probably remembering the disagreement about the keys. This time, though, he didn’t argue. “Of course. Make sure you turn the deadbolt,” he said before he put on his shoes and left her to sleep the rest of the night alone.

* * *

B
ut Jane didn’t show
up at eight. It was pushing noon when Billie, going through a box of papers in the second bedroom as she sipped her third mug that morning of strong black tea, heard the front door open.

Billie had been up and ready for painting for three hours now and was irritated with Jane for not coming earlier. She’d ignored Billie’s texts, too. These were precious hours she could’ve been sleeping.

She finished her tea and looked into the empty cup. No, she probably wouldn’t have been sleeping. Since Ian had left, the slightest noise or chill or bump in the mattress had kept her awake, worrying about her sister, her job, her life in general.

She’d done it again. Given in to lust. But this time she’d jumped into bed with a man whose life was intertwined with her family, a person she’d always appreciated having as a friend because he was smart, interesting, and helpful.

Helpful
. Ugh. He’d offered to pay for everything. He was already putting in time and sweat, roping in minions with promises of priceless investment advice, and acting as general contractor, just because he wanted to.

And she didn’t know what they’d do without him. She’d probably still be sleeping in the kitchen on a camp mattress, the other rooms filled with garbage and cat litter, the floor encased in rotting carpet, and with all the stress at work, she’d probably be on the verge of giving up the house and finding a new apartment. In New Hampshire.

Was she using him? Maybe she was no better than her ex-boyfriend. Worse if you factored in the traitorous sister element. A lowering thought. She hadn’t thought she could get any lower unless she dug a hole in the ground.

But she’d promised Ian she wouldn’t regret it. And she didn’t. Once he’d kissed her, it had been inevitable. If she was honest with herself, the only thing keeping them apart was his lack of interest. She’d always—not consciously, but down there in the plumbing, so to speak—she’d wanted him. To her, he’d always be the smartest, kindest, best-looking, most talented guy she’d ever known personally. Impressions from adolescence could last a lifetime. She was like a baby duck, and he’d imprinted on her at a critical moment in development.

“Billie?” Jane’s voice reached her from the hall.

“Back here.” She dug her hand into the box and pulled out an old newspaper clipping of a
Cathy
cartoon that joked about hoarding boxes of old papers. It was very meta.

“Hey,” Jane said.

Something about her voice made Billie jerk around. When she saw her sister, she dropped the cartoon and bolted to her feet. “What happened?”

Jane hadn’t brushed her hair. Neither a swipe of mascara nor dab of lip gloss enhanced her features. And she wore yoga pants and a hoodie, which for her was like Billie wearing fishnet hot pants and a bra with nipple tassels: she might like to wear them now and then, but not out of the house.

Did she
know
? Billie’s pulse kicked up a notch. She was stupid to think she could hide anything from her sister, and a terrible person for even trying.

It was good Jane knew. They shouldn’t keep secrets from each other. Was hot sex more important than family? Of course not. Billie had finally gone too far. This wasn’t flunking algebra for the third time. This was her relationship with her sister.

“Are you all right?” Billie asked, twining her hands together in front of her.

Jane sighed. “Ask Mom. She’ll tell you.”