Essie clears her throat. And then she begins. It’s with an incredible sense of calm that she relays to me the facts of her life. There are no tears as she tells me that her mother left when she was three years old, and her sister was just a newborn. No hiccupping sobs when she explains that her father, who had raised her, had never been one for hugs or I love yous. No halting breaths when she tells me that he went to prison two years ago for tax fraud. Apparently, he’d been into some shady business practices.

  And I play the part well too, I don’t gasp or recoil in alarm. I just sit beside her, listening to everything and rubbing the back of her hand with my knuckles.

  She saves the bombshell for the end—the real reason she’s gun-shy when it comes to relationships. Her ex-fiancé had started sleeping with her sister. Camyrn is pregnant and due any day, and Essie said for her own sanity, she’d had to cut both of them out of her life for a while. I don’t judge her for this at all.

  “Fuck. I’m sorry. That’s a lot,” I say when I think she’s finally finished.

  She glances up at me and meets my eyes. We’re both quiet. The toy now sits on the bed beside her. “I guess it is, isn’t it?”

  I lift one hand to her face and stroke her cheek. “None of that is going to scare me away. I still want a shot with you.”

  Her gaze drops from mine. “Well, it scares me okay? I promised myself I was going to take a long break from men and that I would not get tangled up with some guy again and it’s what… nine months later and I’m ready to cast that vow aside and why? Because the sex is good between us?” I flinch. “I’m sorry, Preston. I just can’t. I respect myself more than that. If I can’t keep a promise I made to myself,” she shakes her head, “I just can’t do this, okay?”

  And because I don’t want to be the cause of any more of her pain, I say, “Okay.”

  Essie rises from the bed, grabs the toy and leaves me alone with my thoughts.

  I release an agonizingly slow breath. My first thought is, about how I want to get really hammered on tequila shots. Then I realize the whole night I’d meticulously planned is ruined.

  The girl I’d been so desperate to get to know—to peel back the layers on—has a lot more hard edges than I realized.

  Essie has lived a hard life. She’s young, but she’s already endured more than most people twice her age.

  I couldn’t get over how exceptionally calm and composed she remained throughout our talk. She had the strength of ten women and quite honestly, all that little talk did was make me fall for her even more.

  Forget the tequila. All I want is for Essie to see herself the way I see her.

  7

  * * *

  ESSEX

  Back inside my bedroom, I close the door and let out a huge sigh. I never let people in—never spill the dirty secrets of my life—ever. And believe me, I’ve come close a few times. There have been friends in college I’ve gotten close to, but ultimately decided it wasn’t worth it. But telling Preston about my dad and sister and Kyle and the baby…all I feel is relief. Someone finally knows the truth. If he hates me now or looks down on me, that’s on him. I’ve spoken my truth. I tuck my fleshy-friend who I’ve lovingly nicknamed Bob back inside my nightstand drawer.

  Since my evening plans are now ruined, I slip off my shoes and grab my laptop bag before settling on my bed. I might as well get some studying done. I have three chapters to read for my comparative mythology class—which I took because I thought it’d be a fun elective—boy, was I wrong. And I also have a paper due in my economics class next week that I haven’t even started yet. I pull my materials from my bag just as there’s a knock on my door.

  I figured Preston would leave me alone the rest of the night—probably even give me a wide berth tomorrow too. But it’s been what, four minutes and he’s already knocking on my door. Am I really ready to face him? But what’s my alternative—climb out the bedroom window?

  My pulse quickens. “Come in,” I call.

  Preston opens the door, but doesn’t enter. He just stands in the doorway gazing at me with a dark expression.

  • • •

  PRESTON

  I couldn’t just leave this thing alone between us—which is why minutes after Essie shut me out, I’m knocking on her door.

  “Come in,” she calls.

  I open it and my lungs stop working. She’s beautiful. Sitting on her bed with a pen in her mouth and textbooks spread out all over in front of her.

  I do what any desperate man would do—I start blurting things out.

  “I know you think your life is too complicated, but it’s not. Not for me.”

  She blinks at me and then gestures me forward into her bedroom.

  I cross the threshold and sit beside her on the bed. “If you don’t want this, and you’re sure that you’d be better off alone—tell me to leave and I promise I will. I’ll never bother you again. You can keep living here and we’ll be roommates, and that’s it.”

  My heart is hammering because I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what she’s about to tell me.

  “But if even a small part of you is into me…”

  She gives me a kind look. “You know I am, Preston.”

  “Then let me be there for you.”

  Her eyes latch onto mine and she gives me a small nod. “I’m scared.”

  “Don’t be,” I say, gathering her up in my arms. “Your ex is the worst and your sister made a huge mistake by getting with him, but that’s on them. And your dad…well, it sounds like he’s paying for his mistakes too. But you don’t need to suffer because they messed up. You get to live for you, okay? Do things that make you happy. Put yourself first.”

  She nestles herself in closer, pressing her face into the stubble on my neck. “Thanks, Preston.”

  “For what?” I hold her close, and man it feels good.

  “For not judging me. And for, well, everything. You’ve been so good to me while I tried again and again to push you away.”

  “I get why you did it.”

  She lifts her face and I lower mine, and then our lips are pressing together. It’s not what I expected, but kissing Essie is a magical experience, so I’m not about to complain.

  “We could still go to dinner,” I say when we part a few minutes later.

  She lifts her eyes to mine and smiles. “Okay.”

  The evening that I thought was ruined turns out to be anything but. We make it in time for our reservations at the new Italian place. It’s every bit as romantic as the reviews made it seem. We share glasses of red wine, and tiramisu—plus we manage to eat impressive amounts of pasta. Then we take a walk around the city, stopping to listen to a jazz musician on the corner. Essie leans her head on my shoulder and we sway together under the moonlight.

  Things are going better than expected. I tell her about the late night showing of The Notebook at the historic cinema, but she shakes her head. “Let’s go home.”

  They’re the three best words I’ve ever heard.

  I keep myself distracted during the drive home by peppering Essie with questions.

  “Chocolate or vanilla?”

  “Both!” she shouts enthusiastically.

  “Horror movies or comedy?”

  “Both? Sorry,” she laughs. “I really suck at this game.”

  I chuckle along with her. “No, it’s okay. Variety is the spice of life.”

  By the time we make it home, the temperature has dropped and there’s a light rain falling outside. Inside, we shrug out of our jackets and I can’t help it, I lift Essie into my arms. She wraps her legs around my hips and I kick off my boots before I begin carrying her back to my bedroom.

  I place her on the center of the bed. Man she looks good there.

  She kisses me and my body responds immediately. When she notices, she brings one hand to the front of my jeans and strokes my hardening erection.

  Things are moving really fast, and while I normally wouldn’t complain about this—I want Essie to know she means more to me than some sprint-to-the-finish-line encounter.

  The desire to empty the contents of my balls makes it difficult to form coherent thoughts, but I do my best.

  “Wait.” I sound breathless, like I just skated a four-minute shift. “We should slow down. We should talk. Maybe have a drink.”

  “Okay.” She tips her chin, considering this. “I’ll have a drink.”

  “Do you like Japanese whisky?”

  “Sure?”

  I chuckle at her uncertainty. “Stay right there.”

  I rush to the kitchen for two glasses and pour us each a measure of the whisky I save for special occasions. There’s not an occasion more special than this as far as I’m concerned.

  Over sips of whisky, we lounge on my bed and talk. I tell her some of my past—like growing up with a single mom, and how hockey became my whole world.

  I tell her about how we didn’t grow up with much money and that for fun we’d walk to the park with a picnic lunch. Some of my best memories from childhood are sitting in the grass, looking up at the clouds move.

  She leans back against my pillows, glass of whisky in her hand. “What was the thing you thought signified that someone was rich back then? Mine was if you had children’s flavored toothpaste. If you had the extra four dollars to spring for the bubblegum flavored toothpaste, clearly your family had money. And for sure a pool…if you had a pool, in my mind, you were insanely rich.”

  “Toothpaste? Really?” I chuckle at her.

  She nods. “I know. But my dad only bought regular and everyone used it. One bathroom house.”

  It sounds like maybe we’re more similar than she ever realized. I grew up without much extra and learned early on not to take anything for granted.

  “Mine was having a basketball hoop in the driveway. I always wanted one of those. Oh, and maybe having cable TV too. That would have been nice.”

  She nods. Then she sets her glass down on my nightstand and crawls across the bed toward me. My heart accelerates as I watch her move. And when she plants herself in my lap, I struggle for oxygen.

  “You’re a good man, Preston.”

  I touch her face, stroking my thumb along her cheek. “And you’re a good girl, Ess.”

  A slow, crooked smile lifts her mouth. I’m not convinced she believes me. It’s something we’ll have to work on.

  I push my hands under her shirt, loving the feel of her soft skin under my fingertips. When I remove her shirt, Essie lifts her arms. Then she strips herself of her bra, and I suck in a sharp inhale. She’s beautiful. We’ve hooked up before—but never like this. Never face to face with the lights on.

  Her hands fumble with my belt and I help her out, freeing it from my pants. Then she draws down my fly and I forget how to breath. My boxers are pushed out of the way as she works her hand under the elastic.

  I can’t help the involuntary groan that escapes me when she curls her fist around me. Her hand moves over my length in hot, eager strokes and I groan, knees trembling.

  “I need to be inside you.”

  “Yes,” she agrees. “Should we use protection…or?”

  “What do you mean?” My pulse is going crazy because Essie’s still in my lap. And she’s still topless.

  “I’m asking how well your date went the other night and if…” She lifts one eyebrow at me.

  “My date?” Veronica? “No. God, no.” I shake my head. She doesn’t realize the date was a rouse. She’s the only woman I want. “I haven’t been with anyone but you.” I guess I’ll have to fess up to the plot to make her jealous…

  “Good.” She kisses me again. The friction in my lap is making me insane.

  “What about you … Warren?”

  “Ew. No.”

  I chuckle into her kiss. “Good.” That is very good news, because I have a hard time picturing her with any man who isn’t me.

  “If we do this…you’re my girlfriend. You know that, right?”

  Essie’s eyes find mine and I struggle to read her expression.

  “Girlfriend?” she repeats the word, a quizzical look in her eyes.

  “It’s a stupid word, I know. But there’s no one else. Try with me?”

  “Okay,” she agrees and my lips are on hers before she even gets the word out.

  I feel like I won the lottery. Finally, a shot with Essie. A real shot. I’m deliriously happy.

  But then Essie is bringing one hand between us and lifting on her knees… and all other thoughts fade away. When she joins us, my hips lift from the bed and I get us the rest of the way there—filling her in one smooth stroke.

  “Yes. Preston.” She groans out my name and clings to my shoulders as I hold her tight and pummel into her body again and again.

  It’s perfect and I’m lost to the sensation. To the sound her halting breaths leaving her lips, to the way she feels around me—tight and warm and wonderful.

  It’s only a few minutes later when Essie’s first orgasm sneaks up on her. She clings to me, riding out the waves.

  “Yes, baby. Fuck,” I groan.

  I keep up my pace—steady, but not overeager and … Essie gasps. Here comes my second reward. I love this. Love how responsive she is.

  She gasps again and repeats my name. It’s the best sound. I could do this all night. Okay, that’s a lie. I’m already dangerously close to the edge.

  I’m feeling greedy tonight, and since I suspect she’s got one more in her, I don’t let up. Not even as my body threatens to betray me, not even as the pleasure becomes so unbearable, I grunt out a long groan.

  Finally, I’m rewarded. Essie quivers in my arms and curses under her breath, riding me hard. It’s too much and I go off like a rocket, coming so hard I almost pass out.

  After, she laughs. I turn and give her a questioning look. “What’s so funny?”

  She chuckles again, breathless. “I have a confession to make.”

  I lift one eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

  “You’re the only guy to make me do that, you know?”

  “Do that?” Oh, the multiple-O thing… Interesting.

  She nods, shyly.

  “See. I knew you were mine.”

  Essie doesn’t argue. She grins at me, and uses her fingers to turn my cheek toward hers, where she plants a sweet kiss. “Seems like it.”

  Enjoy this bonus from Justin and Elise’s book

  PLAYING FOR KEEPS

  JUSTIN

  As I enter the bedroom, two things happen simultaneously. The first is that my eyes are assaulted by the vision of my best friend naked. Gah! The second is that my stomach tightens as I take in the scene around him.

  He’s bent over at the waist and handcuffed to the headboard. Lying on the floor between his parted feet is a purple glittery dildo.

  What the actual fuck?

  Owen groans in relief when he sees me. “Thank God. Took you long enough. Get me the fuck out of here.”

  The uneasy feeling inside my chest grows with each step closer I take. “What the fuck happened, dude?”

  Owens hesitates for a second, hanging his head. “Revenge happened.”

  My eyebrows jump up. “This was a revenge fuck?”

  Owen doesn’t answer right away, he just hangs his head in shame.

  I locate the key to the handcuffs on a nearby dresser and get to work unlocking each of his wrists while trying not to make eye contact with any exposed body parts. I’ve seen it all before in the locker room, but this just feels different. It feels fucking wrong.

  He grunts as finally free him, rubbing at his wrists which each bear a faint red mark.

  “I guess that wasn’t the first time I picked up that redhead from the bar. And when she realized I didn’t remember her, she freaked out. In my defense, it was two years ago, and she’d cut her hair.”

  “So she just left you like this?” I look up at the ceiling while he locates his boxers and jeans and begins getting dressed.

  “It was a little more involved than that,” Owen says, his eyes wandering to his purple glittery friend on the floor.

  For a second I consider ignoring the elephant in the room, because part of me really does not want to know the particulars of this little sexcapade gone wrong. But then the logical part of my brain points out that this situation Owen’s found himself in could provide ammunition for years to come. And knowing I’ll be able to hang this over his head anytime I want something? Well, let’s just say I’m willing to put my own discomfort aside in favor of knowing the truth.

  “So did she...?”

  “Yup.”

  “And the ...” My eyes stray toward the toy left behind.

  “You don’t want to know,” he snaps.

  “Oh but I do.” I grin wryly.

  Owen groans and shakes his head, as if dislodging a painful memory. “Can we please just fucking go?”

  I hold up one hand. “Fine. You’re right. I probably don’t want to know.”

  “Damn right you don’t. And I can’t believe you brought my sister.”

  I shrug. “She was worried. We were all out together when I got your text.”

  He exhales slowly, grabbing his discarded shirt from the floor. “Let’s go.”

  “Happily. After you,” I remark.

  Owen stops me at the door to the hallway with a hand pressed into my chest. “And if you tell any of the guys about this, I will fucking end you.”

  I grin. “How about thank you, Justin for saving my ass. Literally,” I add.

  He rolls his eyes and heads out the door to face Elise.

  Enjoy this love letter written by Owen to Becca from

  ALL THE WAY

  Angel,

  I’ve never written a love letter before, and so I’m sure this is going to sound cheesy. But the thing is, I really don’t give a shit. I love you, and if this note makes you smile—even a little bit, then it’s all worth it.

  I should also add, I’m not even sure why I’m writing one now. I guess it’s because I’m missing you. Or because at the team dinner earlier tonight, the guys started harassing me about what a douchey boyfriend I am. Both are true.

 

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