Test Shot (12 page)

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Authors: Cari Quinn

Tags: #Romance, #Anthologies, #Contemporary, #Collections & Anthologies, #Erotic Contemporary

BOOK: Test Shot
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His low curse would’ve made her laugh earlier that evening. Now she just gripped the sides of the sink and waited.

He nuzzled her jaw while he closed his hands around her breasts. Her nipples were already hard and straining. Eager for the pluck of his fingers. The strum of his mouth. “Are there rubbers in here?”

Deep within her belly, she trembled. He wanted her again, and she wanted him. That want was like a constant burn inside her, chafing her with its intensity. And what a miracle that was, to experience such crazed need and have it reciprocated.

But what about Aidan? He hadn’t said Sawyer had to leave. Nor had he given her his approval for him to stay.

His approval. Like he was her father and she needed permission to stay up past curfew.

“Dammit,” she said under her breath, wishing she’d remained silent when Sawyer jerked back.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She rubbed her hand under her nose, hating the annoying tickle in her throat. The attack of sniffles was almost more embarrassing than a good old-fashioned sobfest.

“Don’t lie to me.”

The steel in his tone made her jut out her chin. Figured she’d hooked up with yet another alpha male. “It’s just, Aidan’s in bed, and he didn’t say if he was okay if you and I… God, this is awkward.”

“Yeah, well, did you think of that before you dragged me into this weird-ass little triangle?”

She stared at him in shock. This was the first time she’d seen him the slightest bit annoyed. Pensive, yes. But flat-out pissed? No.

It just proved she didn’t know much about him. How could she in such a short amount of time? Having sex with a guy didn’t offer some sort of Cliffs Notes into his psyche. As for his sincere, open personality, that could’ve been a facade. They were strangers, plain and simple. Even if every molecule inside her screamed otherwise.

“It’s not a triangle,” she said, rather than all the other things she wanted to. More than anything, she wanted him to stay. And that wasn’t only not feasible, it wasn’t fair to him. Why prolong the inevitable?

“No. You’re right there. It’s a circle I’m not a part of.” His mouth moved into a semblance of a smile. “I think it’s best if I go. I’m sorry.”

“Sawyer, wait.” She grabbed his arm, and he turned back, eyes wary, jaw clenched. “I’m the one who’s sorry.”

“Just what are you sorry for, Layla? So we’re clear.”

“I knew this would happen. That it would be odd after.” She swallowed. What was she supposed to say? How could she make this better? “You can’t say I wasn’t concerned.”

“You were. I encouraged it as much as Aidan, so the blame is on all of us. I was fine with it. I
am
fine with it,” he corrected, glancing down at her hand on his arm as if he’d forgotten it was there. “It’s just time for me to leave.”

She probably shouldn’t argue with him. If he felt he needed to go, then he should. It wasn’t as if there was anything else on the table except sex—and they’d already had that. The friendship part was more iffy. Maybe in time he’d decide they could be pals.

And maybe not.

“Okay. Sawyer, I—” Her response flashed into her mind.
Thank you for sharing this strange, incredible night with us. I hope we can be friends. Best of luck with your career
. All reasonable, polite things to say.

He curved his hand around her cheek. “What?”

She wanted to turn her face into his palm. To hold on just a little longer. But if she needed comforting, her fiancé was waiting in their bed.

“I like you a lot.” Dammit, she couldn’t leave it at that. They’d shared so much tonight. Not words, but they hadn’t needed them. What had occurred between them was much more primal—and much more dangerous—than the simple construction of consonants and vowels. “I don’t want this to be the last time we see each other,” she blurted. “Platonically, I mean.”

“Of course.” His other hand came up to frame her face, and he leaned down to brush his lips over hers. The pressure of his mouth echoed between her breasts, a fleeting, bittersweet pain. He stepped back. “Thank you for tonight, Layla.” He smiled, though the darkness in his eyes never lifted. “Best of luck with Aidan. You’re going to make one hell of a beautiful bride.”

Then he was gone, and she was left staring at the empty doorway.

* * * *

It should’ve been weird after. She expected it, even planned all the psychology-textbook-type things she would say.
I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re just at a crossroads, and we’ll enter into the next phase of our relationship together.

But Aidan didn’t seem to need any of that. He woke on Saturday and asked if she wanted eggs as he usually did, then went off to make coffee. As if this Saturday was the same as a thousand others they’d shared.

She’d lost her definition of normal. Or else what she’d thought was normal had been disguised in the first place.

That afternoon, they went shopping for new furniture for their bedroom sitting area, something they’d planned to do for weeks. They settled on white wicker with navy accents and sprang for a new navy-and-cream rug to match.

If this had been a regular Saturday, she would’ve ridden the shopping high for hours. This time, it barely made a dent in her fuzzy state of discontent. Clearly she wasn’t cut out for threesome sex—even their modified style of it—if she ended up depressed afterward.

That night they attended a small dinner party with some of Aidan’s colleagues from the college. She yawned all the way through it.

She’d spent the previous night tossing and turning as noiselessly as possible in a futile attempt not to wake him. So much for orgasms putting people to sleep. She’d had several, and it hadn’t helped in the slightest.

But Aidan remained attentive, his arm a possessive support around her waist as they mingled with the other couples. He never left her side, and every time their eyes met, his were warm and loving.

Could their night with Sawyer have brought them closer together? Maybe reaffirmed for Aidan what he had? She could hope.

As soon as they arrived home, she set her purse on the table in the foyer and shrugged out of her light jacket. The night was a bit chilly, but that wasn’t why her nipples hardened to peaks the instant she glimpsed Aidan’s hungry look.

“Don’t stop there.” He reached up to undo her hair from its French twist. “I want you naked.”

Her mouth went dry. God, this whole evening had been like a dream come true, minus her abject exhaustion. How long had she been waiting to hear those words from him? It had been so long since he’d approached her for sex. Even longer since she’d heard that undercurrent of urgency in his tone when it was just the two of them.

When there wasn’t an audience.

Before she could begin to strip, he did it for her. He tugged at the fancy mother-of-pearl buttons on her blouse, then yanked both it and her bra off her arms. Her short black skirt came off next, though he didn’t give her thigh-high garters a glance before he whirled her around and sculpted her bare ass in his hands. “Wet for me?”

She shivered from the pull of his lips on her neck. “You have to ask?”

His chuckle, so dark and dirty, caressed her skin. “Such an eager little thing you are. So last night didn’t take the edge off, then? He didn’t give you everything you need?”

Just like that, the pulse between her thighs stopped.

Thank God he hadn’t checked for himself how ready she was, because the mention of Sawyer doused her libido. Not what they’d done. She’d loved every minute of their lovemaking. It was all the emotional crap she still hadn’t managed to sort into orderly piles on the shelves in her mind that wreaked havoc with her sex drive. And everything else.

“I’ll always need you.”

He didn’t question her hesitation, just chuckled again and grabbed hold of her breast. “I want your ass.”

She closed her eyes at the thrill that shot straight to her clit every time he twisted her taut nipple. “Oh yeah?” She rocked against him, massaging the rigid cock tenting his dress pants. “You wanna fuck me right here?”

“Right here.” He pushed apart her thighs and dragged his thumb over her seam, grunting in either pleasure or disappointment at what he found. “I’ll be right back.”

Once he’d gone, she bit her lip. Definite disappointment. He always used to tease her that she made all the lube he’d ever want. Not tonight. But what did he expect? As excited as she was that he was turned on, even she needed more foreplay than a few pulls on her breasts.

She especially needed not to think about Sawyer.

Aidan returned a moment later, lube and condom in hand. She figured he’d go right for the goal without taking any time for detours. He surprised her by nibbling his way across her shoulder while he slipped his slick fingers into her pussy.

She moaned and arched into his touch, clenching around the two digits he plunged into her. “Mmm. There’s my girl, warming right up for me.”

“You know I always do.”

“Mmm-hmm. You’re mine, aren’t you, Layla?”

“Yes.” She shut her eyes and lost herself in his strokes. Having his body so hot and hard against hers felt beyond perfect. She’d missed him so much, even when he slept in the bed beside her. This was how things were supposed to be. The two of them together, trapped in longing. Trapped by—

Trapped.

Her eyes opened as Aidan drew back and uncapped the lube. His damp fingers probed her rosette, testing her excitement. Normally, she urged him to hurry. She couldn’t wait to have him inside her, stretching her with his cock. But this time, the rip of the foil package sounded more like a threat than a promise. When the blunt tip of his erection circled her back entrance, she tensed.

Biting her lip, she fisted her hands and widened her stance in the hopes of hiding her body’s reaction. If she shut him down now, who knew when he’d come back for more? She just had to relax. Focus on how good she’d feel once he was lodged in her ass and she couldn’t concentrate on anything but that unrelenting fullness.

But he noticed. He always noticed.

“Layla?”

“Go ahead.”


Go ahead?
Like you’re a glory hole at some club?” He grasped her shoulder and turned her around so that she had no place to hide. “What’s wrong?”

Glory hole? What was that? “Nothing.”

“Why are you lying to me?”

“I’m not lying.” She reached for his cock, her hand sliding in the lube he’d already drizzled on the condom stretched over his length. “You’re talking way too much.”

“Am I?” Moving so fast she had no time to prepare, he locked his hand around her throat and drove her backward until her back slammed against the wall. His fingers tightened while he pressed his body to hers, holding her in place with his fulsome erection and his cold stare. “Then we’ll settle this a different way.”

She whimpered as he hiked up her hip, but it wasn’t from fear. They’d gotten rough before.
Very
rough. Close to crossing a few lines, had she actually had any places where he wasn’t allowed. That knife’s edge of fear brought her to the highest peaks, because she knew she could dangle over the edge and he’d never let her go.

“Yes.” When he pushed into her pussy with one strong thrust, she hissed it. “
Yes
.”

He wasn’t careful. Wasn’t reverent or romantic or any of the myriad other adjectives she’d once believed were the property of those in love. He fucked her like an animal, hammering into her so that bruises seemed to bloom inside and out, a million small contusions that couldn’t compete with the pounding he inflicted on her heart.

She reached for her orgasm with both hands, flinging herself into it with the conviction of the damned.
Finally
. A scream burst from her, the sound cutting off abruptly from the crush of his mouth. She siphoned his breath when she lost hers, each drag of his cock along her sensitive nerve endings creating a whole new riot of sensations inside her. The explosion nearly rocked her off her toes. Then he was coming too, so hard that she had to burrow her nails into his side to keep from being driven wholesale into the wall with the force of his strokes.

They collapsed together, shuddering like addicts. Hanging on to each other to keep from pooling on the floor.

It was over too soon. Before she’d readied herself, he was drawing back, mumbling apologies and excuses. None of them made sense. She didn’t need him to apologize for their first true coming together in what felt like a lifetime. Didn’t
want
him to. After what they’d shared, only silence fit the aftermath. But he filled it with those fumbling, meaningless words, and when she didn’t respond, he left her shaking in the front hall with her clothes scattered around her.

They didn’t speak for the rest of the night.

Sunday, he went to meet with some students for coffee, and she paced through their townhouse, unable to settle. She must’ve glanced at the phone a dozen times, but she didn’t pick it up. Sawyer wouldn’t want to talk to her. She didn’t know what to say in any case. As she’d had no idea what to say to Aidan when he strode out the door that morning, briefcase in hand and a polite smile on the face that had been filled with such erotic madness the day before.

When he returned that evening, dinner was waiting. She’d made a vegetable stew, served with thick slabs of bread. He didn’t touch the carbs, as she’d figured he wouldn’t, but had a beer with dinner. By the time their silent, awkward meal was over, she wished she’d joined him.

“You want to call him. I can see it in your eyes.”

She glanced up from the remnants of soup she’d been chasing around her bowl with her bread. “There’s no need. It won’t make things better. He probably hates us. Me.”

“He’s a goddamn man, Layla. Doubt he’s sitting around pouting.”

“Oh, and men don’t have feelings? Is that it? They don’t care when people use them and toss them aside?”

“Is that what you did? I must’ve missed that.”

“No.” Her lips trembled so she pressed them together. “I didn’t use him. I just…”

“What?” Aidan’s tone gentled.

She made herself meet his gaze. “He’s not like us.”

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