Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
KIT
“Y ou’re sure you’re okay with this?” I shift the phone from one ear to the other and check the clock on the hotel nightstand. My fake date arrives in five minutes.
“Okay with what?” Camille’s feigned innocence makes me snort.
“Me having sex with your high school buddy.” No sense pretending that’s not on the table. “I thought you guys hated me dating your friends.”
Because yes, it’s a thing with my sisters. We’re still recovering from The Great Dani Debacle of Grad School, also known as that time I made the poor choice to date our middle sister’s best friend.
That was more than a decade ago. My sisters are still upset.
“I don’t want you to date Eve.” Camille says it like I’ve suggested wearing her socks on my ears. “She’s just there to make Miranda jealous.” There’s a pause where I picture my sister deviously twirling her hair like a supervillain. “And if you happen to enjoy a one-night stand that puts you both on a path to healing, even better.”
“Jesus.” She sounds like she’s prescribing casual sex. Now that I think of it, she probably does that. “Why would I need healing? I’m fine . Miranda and I split more than six months ago and?—”
“I wasn’t talking about Miranda.” She lets those words hang, waiting for me to take the bait.
I won’t do it. But I will let the silence linger uncomfortably.
This is the problem with two shrinks in a standoff. We could do this all fucking day.
Since my fake date will be here any second, I cave first. “Just because I wasn’t there when Dad died doesn’t mean I failed to get closure.”
“Whatever you say, Kit. I’m sure your crushing grief over the passing of our primary, paternal caretaker is completely resolved and didn’t create any issues for you around intimacy and?—”
“There’s Eve at the door.” It’s not true, but it’s my chance to escape this conversation. “Are we grabbing dinner with Mom before I leave town?”
My sister switches gears like I’d hoped. “Thursday’s good. Christine’s teaching until six, so she’s a maybe. Celia and Caitlynn and Courtney are a definite yes.” God, we have a lot of sisters. “Clara’s trying to get out of some work thing, but Mom’s in for sure.”
“Thanks for setting that up.”
“Why do you sound weird? Your voice is all scratchy.”
“I caught a cold coming over from London.”
“Are you contagious?”
“Not anymore. I promise not to make your friend sick.”
A knock at the door announces Eve’s actual arrival and I draw a fortifying breath.
“I have to go. Love you, Camille.”
“Love you, too, asshole.” She laughs. “Go bang my bestie into another galaxy.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re a stuffy butthead. Lighten up, Mister?—”
I switch off my phone, silencing whatever cheery taunt she’d planned to toss my way. Hardly the first time someone’s accused me of taking things too seriously.
If only she knew what I’m doing next week.
Checking the mirror by my hotel room door, I smooth down my shirt and make sure there’s nothing in my teeth. All good. My hair’s a bit rumpled and a little too long, but the new bosses asked me to leave it like this. Sex hair , they called it, and who am I to argue?
Drawing a breath, I fling open the door.
Holy fucking shit .
“Eve?”
The striking brunette in a strapless black dress looks nothing like the pictures I’ve seen. The last time we crossed paths, she was maybe a sophomore in college.
This woman is shapely and sexy, with forest-green eyes and sleek, glossy waves falling over slim shoulders. There’s a spark in her eyes that says she’s more than just pretty.
Eve is fucking stunning .
“Yes,” she says, licking her lips as my dick jerks awake. “I’m Eve. You’re Kit?”
“K—Chr—yeah.” Jesus Christ, I’ve forgotten my name. “Come in.”
God, she even smells great. Like vanilla and oranges. I have to bite down on my tongue to keep from licking her like a creamsicle.
“I hope I’m not overdressed.” She does a self-conscious twirl and laughs. “Camille said to wear what I would for a cocktail party. I should have checked with you first to make sure I’m?—”
“No, you’re great. Beautiful. Stunning. Perfection.” Stop spewing words at her, dumbass . “Let me grab my jacket and tie and we’re set.”
“Take your time.” She rests a hand on the desk by the door. “I got here a couple minutes early because Camille said you like to be prompt.”
“That’s normally true.” I’ve been trying to ease up a little. “Can’t say I’m in a rush to hang with my ex.”
“I hear you on that one.” She scans the room as I move to the dresser. “Sounds awkward.”
“I’m mostly used to it in professional settings.” I pick up my gray silk necktie and turn to the mirror. “But I appreciate you being there. Saves us the awkwardness of Miranda fielding questions about the psychology of intimate relationships while her new lover makes awkward small talk with her ex-lover.” I’m oversharing, aren’t I? I’m also drawing a blank on how to tie a Windsor knot. What’s wrong with this fucking tie? “I’m the ex-lover in that scenario, by the way. Maybe there’s a chapter in her new book about how to have those conversations.”
“You haven’t read it?”
“Nope.” I’m fumbling with the damn necktie, trying to recall if the tail goes over or under. “I contributed a metric fuck-ton of research. What Miranda did with it is her business. She’s the writer. I’m the data guy.”
I’m being a dick, and I’d normally care more about books with my name in the credits, but this one’s an exception. And this tie is a pain in my?—
“Let me help.” Eve shoves off the desk, moving to stand right in front of me. She drags a hand up my chest, untwisting the tie, and something unspools in my core. “You’ve got this all crooked.”
“Oh. Thanks.” My body responds to the delicate brush of her fingers at my throat. Fuck, that feels good.
Swallowing hard, I order myself not to get hard. That’s the last thing we need right now. “Guess we should do some quick get-to-know-you questions,” I manage. “Have a story ready in case someone asks how we met.”
“That’s easy enough.” Her eyes meet mine and Eve runs her palm down the length of gray silk. She stops short of my belt, but my dick responds like she’s just unfastened my fly. “We met through your sister.”
“Yeah, but shouldn’t we know more than each other’s first names? Personal details and such.”
“Oh. Sure.” She takes a step back as I pull on my jacket. “I’m Eve Goodrich and I just got out of what I now recognize as an unhealthy relationship. I’m working through childhood shame, embracing my sexual self, and recognizing the patriarchal constructs of matrimony as inherently flawed and damaging.”
“Got it.” Damn, that was awesome. “I meant more like what do you do for work?”
Eve laughs and the sound melts a big brick of ice in my chest. “Sorry about that. Something about meeting my best friend’s famous shrink brother makes me blurt my whole, pathetic story.”
“I love it. Really. And I promise I’m not famous.” Some of my research might be, but it’s not like people outside the psychology circles have ever heard of me. “Okay, let’s see…I’m six months out of a long-term relationship that ended after I asked her to marry me and she said no.” It doesn’t feel shitty to say that out loud, so maybe I’ve really moved on. “The breakup was complicated by the fact that my sisters saw her as family, but Miranda wanted a clean break and cut everyone off by deleting their contacts and blocking them on social media.”
“Ouch.” Eve makes a face, though I’m guessing she already knew most of that. “Sorry, that sucks.”
“It’s fine. I’m over it.” Mostly. “It’s also tricky that Miranda and I worked together. We co-managed a large body of research and wrote several clinical papers together. The books were more her pet project.”
“Camille gave me one of your research papers.”
“She did?” That’s surprising. “Which one?”
“A study on non-traditional relationships. She thought it might be helpful with one of my clients. An ENM lifestyle brand you might’ve heard of.”
Something on my face must make her think I don’t know what she’s talking about because Eve bites her lip and keeps going.
“Ethical Non-Monogamy.” She blushes deeply, which I find endearing. “Duh, of course you know what ENM is. You literally wrote the book on it. Sorry, I’m nervous. I own a public relations firm that represents Pretty Poly.”
“I’ve heard of them.” And I’m mentally rearranging my impression of my kid sister’s high school pal.
Eve Goodrich is professional and accomplished.
Eve Goodrich is smart and open-minded.
Eve Goodrich is sexy as hell.
But as much as I’m dying to throw her back on this hotel bed and bury my face between her thighs, we’ve got an event to attend.
“Let’s continue this chat on the way to the venue.” I grab my phone and skim the message from my publisher. “There’s a car waiting downstairs. Ready?”
“All set.”
I hold out my arm and she takes it, grabbing her purse off the desk on our way out the door. We chat lightly on our way down in the elevator before I open the door to the limo.
“I swear I don’t normally get the red-carpet treatment,” I say as soon as we’re tucked inside. “The publisher tied their event to an international psychiatry symposium and a gathering of ENM enthusiasts. They want to make a big splash.”
“Sounds intriguing.” She studies the plush interior of the car, then swivels her gaze back to me. “What else should you and I know about each other?”
I’m drawing a blank on get-to-know-you questions. “What do you like to do for fun?”
Eve laughs and I wonder what just crossed her mind. “I’m currently exploring new paths.” That’s intriguing. “But I love board games, reading erotic romance, binge-eating M I swear it. Just a taste. One soft, little lick and then?—
“Oh, God.” She arches beneath me and fuck , I’m a goner.
“Jesus, Eve.” She’s soft and sweet and so wet I can’t stand it.
I consume her like I’m starving, running my tongue through her slick, molten core. She’s honey and saline and unbelievably hot.
Aching to feel her with more than my mouth, I press her thighs wide with my palms. One hand moves up with a mind of its own, slipping two fingers inside her.
Her sex grips me like a vise and I groan. “You’re so tight, baby.”
She gasps as I lap at her clit. “I’m close,” she pants, though I already knew it.
“Come for me, Eve.”
I expect her to fight me. To insist she’ll need more than a few little licks.
But she lets out a scream that I’m sure will have neighbors complaining.
“Oh, God—Kit.” She cries out again and clenches around me, the walls of her sex squeezing hard.
I’m sucking her clit as my fingers keep plunging inside her. I find her g-spot with the tip of one digit and circle that taut little patch to feel her explode again.
“Oh, shit.” Her thighs squeeze my ears as her walls clench my finger. “Yes, yes, yes !”
I can’t tell if she’s coming again or if it’s all one long orgasm. Does it matter? I could drown in the slick, throbbing splendor of Eve coming undone around me.
Her breathing slows down and I gentle my touch. Aftershocks rock through her body as I kiss my way over her hip bone. As I roll to one side with my head on her thigh, Eve’s eyes flutter open.
With a languid smile, she blows dark hair off her forehead. “That was lovely,” she says, licking her lips. “Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure. Truly.”
I expect her to flop back on the pillows. To take a few moments to gather her bearings, to catch her breath after what just happened.
But Eve Goodrich keeps surprising me. Tugging hard at the restraint, she looks me dead in the eye. “Please fuck me now.”