Friends with Benefits(26)

"Are you alright?" she asked, running her fingers over the knuckles of my left hand.


"Yeah, I'm good," I lied, trying to give her a convincing smile. "A little tired, I guess."


"Well," she smiled, "fucking like a wild animal will do that to a man, I suppose."


I chuckled.


"I should head out. I want to call Melissa and see if she will go  shopping with me, and I don't want to be out too late. I need plenty of  time to prepare."


"I'll pick you up at seven?" I asked.


"Seven sounds perfect," she said, leaning in and kissing me one last  time before gathering her pants and panties, and then leaving the  bedroom to track down her shirt and bra. She hollered goodbye once she  was dressed. I heard the front door close behind her.


I stayed in bed still staring at the ceiling for a while.


I was probably asking for trouble with what I was doing. Perhaps I should call Chance and let him talk me out of it.


I shook my head as if I was having a conversation with myself. No,  Steve. You have to know for certain, and this is the only way. If she  still wants to fuck Andrew, you'll sense it when you see them together  tonight. And if she does, you can be done with her once and for all. She  won't have you wrapped around her finger anymore.         

     



 


I sighed and sat up. I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands and got  up, not looking forward to working. I showered but didn't dress up. I  was working from home, and I was grateful for that because my nerves  were getting the best of me while I sent out business emails in my  sweats and no shirt.


Why was I so nervous?


Probably because Chance was right. I cared about this girl. She and I  went back a long way, and we had shared a lot. For a while, I had been  convinced that she was the one for me. But for all those years, I had  been too afraid to do anything about it. I also had thought she would  never want someone like me.


She would want someone like Andrew.


I hit send on one last email and ran my fingers through my hair. This whole situation was infuriating.


Andrew was the sweeter one. He had always been considered the nicer  brother. He was the one people went to when they had a problem and  needed help. He was the one who was always associated with the phrase  "he'd give you his shirt off his back if you needed it." He had proven  that he was that kind of guy when he stuck by Allie's side for those two  weeks after their drunken fuck fest.


I wondered what people would think of him if they knew he screwed a  sixteen-year-old when he was twenty-two. What would my mother think?


I had been the younger brother; the brother who pushed the boundaries  and relied too heavily on his good looks and charm to get him by. I  didn't get credit for being smart. I had the same grades all through  high school and college that Andrew had. It had always been more  interesting for people to make me out to be the bad brother. The  rebellious brother. The brother all the girls were advised to stay away  from.


I gritted my teeth and slammed my laptop closed. Fuck that. Fuck all of  them. Liars and cheaters and secret keepers. Tonight things would be out  in the open. Tonight I would know where I stood with Allie.


Sure, the sex was great. And sure, I cared about her. I cared about her a  lot. But if I couldn't trust her, there was no point in taking this  thing-whatever it was-any further. If she and Andrew still had eyes for  each other, I was going to break things off with her then and there.


Screw them both. They could have each other if they were still keeping me in the dark.





Chapter 22

Allie





Melissa met me at the mall while I was trying on a red lace dress. She  dropped her purse on the table as she sank down into a chair in front of  my fitting room, looked me up and down, and shook her head. "No," she  said. "Not that one. Too red."


"Too red?" I asked, planting a hand on my hip. "What does that even mean?"


"Meh," she shrugged, waving me away to try to get me to go back into the  fitting room. "I don't like it. It doesn't scream ‘Steven Marx's date,'  you know? And that's really what you want, right?"


"Right," I said, starting to catch her drift. "This is why I invited  you. I can never handle these kinds of things on my own. I'm useless."


"You're not useless. You just don't have as good of an eye for fashion  as I do. That's not your fault. Now go back in there and show me the  next one."


I retreated back into the fitting room and shimmied out of the red  dress. As I took a navy blue satin number off its hanger, Melissa called  through the door to me. "So are you nervous about the party?"


I shrugged like she could see me. "A little."


"Only a little?"


"Okay, a lot. I'm super nervous. This will be the first time I'm in the  same room with Steven and Andrew since Steven found out about the whole  thing ten years ago. I can't help but worry what it will be like when  we're all together again."


"Not going to lie to you, little sister. It's probably going to be super weird," Melissa said.


"I know." I pouted as I unlocked the door to reveal the blue dress.


Melissa put her finger against her chin and feigned thoughtfulness as  she inspected me in the dress. "This one is better," she said. "Turn  around."


I turned, modeling the dress for her. She nodded a couple of times, then  shook her head, then nodded again. Eventually, she slapped her hands on  her thighs and shook her head decisively. "Nope. You can do better. Try  again."


"What's wrong with this one?" I asked.


"Satin. Not cute."


"Why didn't you just say that right away?" I scowled.


"It's more fun this way." She grinned.


The third dress was a tight little black number with long sleeves. It  had a plunging neckline, and the sleeves sat just off the shoulders. The  hem ended above my knees and had small lace detailing along it. I  opened the door and put both hands on my waist. "Okay, this one?"         

     



 


Melissa cocked her head to the side. "I can get on board with that one.  Throw on a cute pair of black pumps, and you're good to go."


The black pumps were easy to find. I went for a pair with an ankle strap  for extra support, and by the time I was done, it was nearly four. Now  feeling pressed for time, I hurried home and started getting ready.


At seven o'clock, my buzzer rang. I was putting my earrings on as I hurried to the keypad. "Hello?" I called.


"Miss Wright, your ride is here," an unfamiliar male voice said.


"I'll be right down," I said, frowning in confusion.


After putting on my other earring, I peeled the price stickers off the  bottoms of my shoes, stepped into them, and situated the ankle straps. I  put on my red pea coat and snatched up my clutch from the kitchen  counter. Then I rushed out the door, hurried down the steps, and made my  way out to the street.


There was a black limo parked at the curb. A man was standing at the  back door. He dipped his head to me and opened the door, then gestured  for me to get in.


I got in, too surprised to ask any questions.


The limo was lit with a strip of blue light on the ceiling. Steven was  sitting at the opposite end. His arms were outstretched on either side  of him, draped across the back of the bench seat. One leg was crossed  over the other. His hair was slicked back, as per his new style, and he  had sharpened the lines of his beard. A silver watch glistened on his  wrist in contrast to his black on black suit. He looked like a man  straight out of a Hollywood blockbuster.


"Wow," I said, unable to find the right words to express how impressed I  was by the whole thing. "This is amazing. You look incredible."


"Thank you," he said with a small smile. He leaned forward and plucked a  bottle of champagne from an ice bucket. I hadn't even noticed the limo  had a bar. The cork had already been popped. Steven poured me a glass  and handed it to me. "To a great evening," he said, sipping from the  glass he poured for himself.


"A great evening," I said, my stomach curling in on itself. I sure hoped  it would be a good evening. "Thank you for inviting me."


"Who else would I invite?" he asked as the limo pulled out on to the street.


Someone who hasn't fucked your brother, I thought shamefully to myself. "I don't know," I giggled.


The limo was warm. I unbuttoned my coat and laid it on the seat beside me.


"You look so fucking hot in that dress." Steven licked his lips, his eyes raking over me like I was a zebra and he was a lion.


"Thank you. I had you in mind when I bought it."


"Damn," he said, resting his champagne glass back in its holder. "I  would love to fuck you right here. Would you like that? On your knees on  the leather?"


I licked my lips. "Yes," I said. "Come here. Come do it."