Every Sweet Regret: Orchid Valley, Book 2 Page 4

  I twist the top off my beer, focusing on my friend, and catch movement out of the corner of my eye. Stella’s heading toward the pool house.

  The pool house.

  I lean back in my chair and look right at Dean, clearing my throat to get his attention. I don’t want him to see where Stella’s going, just in case he notices me slipping in there as soon as I can excuse myself from this conversation. “You need anything? Did you get enough to eat?”

  “Nah, I’m good.” He stares at the table between us and wipes away the condensation from his beer. He’s acting weird as fuck. Or maybe I’m feeling awkward and projecting? Either way, Stella’s waiting for me, and I need to pick up my phone and get a rain check or follow her.

  I know what I want to do.

  I stand and stretch. “Well, I need to hit the head.”

  “Sure.” He takes a sip of his beer and nods. “Catch you after.”

  I’ve known this guy all my life, and I know when something’s bugging him. Normally, I’d pry the truth out of him, but right now I have other priorities.

  I try to be inconspicuous as I make my way across the patio, but I feel like my secret is written all over my face. The problem with me and Stella is it wouldn’t just affect us. Her brother’s my best friend, and she’s good friends with my sister, Abbi. Then there’s Stella’s best friend, Brinley, who’s like a sister to me, and Brinley’s daughter, Cami, who’s like a niece to me and also close to Stella. And I don’t even want to think about how Amy would react. They worked together a few years ago and Stella made some immature choices, leaving a terrible impression on Amy.

  If we screw this up, everyone I care about will be affected as well.

  By the time I’m sliding the glass door closed behind me, I’m wondering if this is a terrible idea altogether.

  Despite the wall of windows that overlook the pool, the pool house is dark in the afternoons and evenings, and it takes a minute for my eyes to adjust. I don’t turn on a light or call out her name.

  I scan the living area of the small structure and the kitchenette against the far wall. After a quick look around, I realize Stella’s not waiting for me in the open. The sleeping loft is currently being used as storage, and I can’t imagine she would’ve sneaked behind the path I roped off—not with all those chipped tiles—so I assume she’s not up there, either. Which leaves the bathroom. The door’s cracked, and after I take two steps in that direction, Stella pokes her head out and grins.

  “Come here,” she whispers.

  All my uncertainty disappears behind a haze of lust. I push into the bathroom and kick the door closed behind me. I wouldn’t think there’d be anything sexier than that bikini, but Stella’s confident grin definitely tops it. And her freckles—she has new ones dusting the bridge of her nose.

  “This is crazy,” I whisper, but my hands are already on her sweat-slicked skin—palms on her stomach and sliding around to her back, pulling her against my bare chest. Holy hell, she feels good. Soft and warm. Perfect and . . . dangerous. “What are we doing?”

  “I think I’m teaching you how casual works,” she whispers. “I’m a good friend like that.”

  There it is—the permission I need, the acknowledgment that she understands the limits of what I’m offering. I hold her gaze, then search her face for any sign of hesitation. “Are you sure?”

  Chapter Four

  Stella

  Am I sure? Kace has his hands on me and is looking at me like a starved man and dropping not-so-subtle hints that he’s craving me, and he thinks I’m going to back out now? I’m sure I like Coke more than Pepsi. I’m sure I’m cranky if I don’t get at least six hours of sleep. Him asking if I’m sure I want him to touch me is akin to asking if I’m sure I need oxygen.

  “So sure.”

  His lips part, and his gaze skims over every inch of my face before dropping to my throat, my collarbone, and finally to the swell of my breasts.

  I bite my thumb hard, but nope. I don’t wake up. Maybe I’m crazy and this is going to make shit real awkward, but I can’t back off. Kace is . . . everything. And he’s right in front of me.

  “I couldn’t take my eyes off you today,” he says.

  “I noticed.”

  “Or last night,” he says, his voice rough.

  Not just today. And not just last night. I’ve given Kace shit for years, but the past month or so, I’ve noticed the way he looks at me when we end up in the same room together. I’ve recognized the interest in his eyes, and yet until his last text, I thought he was either in denial about the chemistry between us or determined to never act on it.

  His hands skim up my sides, thumbs stopping just shy of the underside of my breasts, before heading back down. “I keep waiting for Dean to catch me ogling his sister and give me a lecture.”

  “Would that have kept you from joining me?”

  He shakes his head then shrugs before his gaze settles on my mouth again. “I don’t know.”

  “Kace.” Reaching up, I tangle my fingers into his hair and tug gently. “Are you going to kiss my mouth or just keep looking at it?”

  His lips quirk into a crooked grin. “Both?” Then slowly, so slowly I want to whimper in frustration, he dips his head. When those lips finally brush mine, a hot shiver rolls down my spine.

  I want to climb him, wrap myself around him and hold on tight. Or kiss my way down his body and fulfill another fantasy. But I ignore the thoughts that beg me to rush to the next part and focus on how surprisingly soft his lips are, how the air around us seems to crackle with the chemistry of our bodies finally touching.

  “Is this what you wanted?” His lips brush mine with each word.

  “It’s on the road to what I want,” I admit. “But only if you want it too.”

  He grunts. “You have no idea.”

  I slide my hands around his hips, over his waistband, up and over the powerful muscles of his back. Kace might spend the better part of his workday behind a desk now, but he’s built like he’s still hauling wood and hanging drywall and whatever the hell else those guys do.

  “Do you have any idea how hot you look in this bikini?” He drags his mouth across my jaw and to my ear, where he pulls the lobe between his teeth and sucks. His hands are everywhere—rough fingertips skimming the skin just above the top of my bikini bottoms then trailing up, thumbs ghosting over my nipples before they descend. He’s touching me all over, and it’s not enough. “I’ve spent the whole day wanting to peel it off you with my teeth. Or maybe just tease you through the fabric until you’re begging to feel my tongue on your bare skin.”

  I draw in a little shocked gasp. Holy hell, who knew Kace could bring the dirty talk? I like it. Way too much. “Either works for me.”

  He chuckles in my ear. “Patience, Freckles.”

  “Time for a lesson about hookups,” I say between heavy breaths—because the sucking, licking, kissing thing he’s doing to my ear right now is making it hard to focus on anything else. “Hookups aren’t about patience. Quite the opposite, in fact. It’s about getting the job done.”

  “Fuck that. Maybe I’m the one who needs to be teaching you.” His mouth trails lower, and my laughter turns to a moan as his teeth nip at the swell of my breasts.

  Holy shit, this man’s mouth is going to be the death of me in more ways than one. “Sorry if this disappoints you, but I don’t need a tutor. I consider myself an expert.”

  “Really?” He straightens, and those liquid honey eyes burn into mine. “Have you ever even been with a good man? One who knows that treating a woman like a queen doesn’t stop at the bedroom door?” He cups my breast, and when his thumb circles my nipple through my suit, I arch into him. “One who worships you the way you were built to be worshipped?”

  “I’m not a virgin.” I release a ragged exhale as I thread my fingers through his hair. I tug gently and guide his mouth back to mine, kissing him with all the hunger I’ve felt for years. “I know what it’s like to be fucked.”

>   “Such a dirty mouth,” he murmurs, but there’s only approval in his tone. When he kisses me again, his tongue is velvety soft against mine, and his guttural groan makes my thighs clench. He tastes like his favorite IPA—slightly citrusy and a lot hoppy. I hate beer, but it’s good on him. I want to drink him in until I can’t taste anything else.

  He tears his mouth away, and I whimper, but my sounds of protest turn to moans of pleasure as he kisses his way down my throat and nuzzles his face between my breasts, gently nipping at the swell of each before soothing away the sting with his tongue. My nipples tighten painfully. God, I need that mouth lower. Need to feel his teeth against that sensitive peak.

  He works his way back up to my ear with his mouth and back down to my thighs with his hands. “You know what it’s like to be fucked, but do you have any idea what it’s like to be savored? To have a man who wants to earn every moan, every sweet gasp from those lips?” He nudges my legs apart, and his fingertips brush faintly against the fabric between my thighs. It’s hardly a touch. It’s a whisper. A promise of what’s to come. And when I jerk my hips toward him in a raw, physical plea for his touch, he pulls away enough for me to see his smile.

  “Tease,” I say.

  Just as Kace parts his lips to reply, there’s a knock on the door. “Kace? You okay in there?”

  He drops his hands, his eyes wide. Now I really do whimper. Leave it to Smithy to have the worst timing.

  “Uh . . . Kace?” Smithy sounds equal parts worried and curious.

  “What the fuck, man? I’m in the bathroom.” He throws his head back in frustration and closes his eyes. I’m feeling pretty frustrated too, considering those big fingers that were dancing between my legs a minute ago are now hanging at his side.

  “Shit. Right.” Smithy chuckles. “Sorry to catch you with your pants down.”

  Smithy’s laughter is contagious, and I have to bite my bottom lip so my own doesn’t give us away.

  “Dean was looking for you, and I thought . . .” Smithy clears his throat. “I thought it might be better if I was the one who found you, if you know what I mean? I told him you were in the kitchen to throw him off your trail.”

  Kace scrubs a hand over his beard. “Tell him I’ll be out in a minute.”

  “I’ll stall so you can . . . you know.” He clears his throat. “Finish and whatnot.”

  I wait until I hear the sliding doors open and close again before I speak. “Smithy must’ve seen us both come in here.” I swallow. “I’ll talk to him. Tell him I needed your help with something.”

  “Thanks,” Kace says. His light brown eyes meet mine, and he looks . . . remorseful. “Sorry, Freckles. This was a bad idea.”

  My stomach sinks. Of course. I’m Stella. Party girl. Dean’s little sister. Walking disaster. He’s Kace. Businessman. Responsible father. All things good and noble. Of course I knew he’d decide this was a bad idea. I just didn’t know he’d decide that after I found out about his dirty, dirty mouth.

  I try to retreat, but the vanity hits the small of my back, and I can’t. I’m trapped in a bathroom between a sink and a man who doesn’t want to want me. I lift my chin. I promised myself long ago that I wouldn’t cry any more tears over Kace Matthews. “If you say so.”

  He cuts his gaze to the door and shakes his head. “I think everyone’s planning on hanging around, so I can’t promise it’ll be as soon as I want, but if you don’t mind being the last to leave . . .” He smiles at me again. And his dimples melt all my walls. “You deserve better than a quickie in a bathroom, anyway.”

  I blink at him, and he must take my confusion for irritation, because he says, “It’s fine either way. I totally get it if you have plans or—”

  “I don’t have plans.” The mistake was the bathroom and the timing, not the hookup? Holy. Fucking. Shit.

  He traces my bottom lip with his thumb. “Good.” He drags his bottom lip between his teeth. “Because I’m really looking forward to teaching you what it’s like to be worshipped.”

  Dead. I’m dead.

  RIP, Stella Jacob. She died of thirst.

  He looks me over one last time and winks before straightening and backing toward the door.

  “Want me to come with you?” I ask. “To talk to Dean? I won’t let him be all overprotective. He knows I’m a big girl and make my own decisions.” Panic flashes in his eyes, and I realize that before I opened my mouth, it hadn’t occurred to Kace that Dean might want to talk because he knows we’re in here together.

  He swallows and shakes his head. “Nah. I’ve got this.”

  * * *

  Kace

  I’m a grown-ass man, but as I wander around the backyard looking for Dean, I feel a little bit like a kid on his way to the principal’s office. Dean wants to talk to you.

  Those words might not have bothered me much if we hadn’t been talking right before I left to find Stella. So either a) something really was bugging him earlier and that’s why he was acting so weird, or b) he knows I was with Stella and what was about to go down, and has an issue with it. I really fucking hope it’s not the latter, because now that I’ve had a taste of her, I’m craving a whole lot more.

  I find Dean in the back corner of my yard, poking around in the firepit. “Smithy said you were looking for me?”

  He startles, and the look on his face is more like that of a kid caught with his dad’s booze than a man stoking a campfire. There’s definitely something on his mind. “Hey, yeah . . .” He clears his throat. “We need to talk.”

  Obviously. I shove my hands into my pockets. “I thought you might have something on your mind. What’s up?”

  He takes a stick from the pile and tosses it into the fire. “It’s about Stella.”

  Well, fuck. I rock back on my heels, braced to defend myself. Or her. Or . . . I don’t know what. I don’t exactly want to explain that we were just going to hook up one time. Dean’s pretty chill, but I’d fucking take issue if he had a one-night stand with my sister. Okay, I’m a hypocrite. “Are you sure you want to do this? Maybe it’s better if you just trust that she’s an adult and—”

  “She is, but Mom doesn’t see it that way, and she’ll never ask her to leave.”

  “Wait. What?”

  “A condo at Lakeview Acres is about to go on the market. You know I’ve been wanting to get Mom in one of those for years, and now that I finally have the chance, Stella’s living with her. Mom won’t move if she thinks she’s putting Stella out.” He frowns. “What did you think I was talking about?”

  I shake my head. “No. Nothing. I . . .” I blow out a breath. “I see what you’re saying. Isn’t Stella apartment hunting?”

  Dean puffs out a breath. “In theory, I guess? But it’s more like she’s keeping her eyes open for an affordable opportunity. She’s starting nursing school at the Mountain Laurel Community College in the fall, so she doesn’t have a lot of extra cash. She’s looking for a roommate more than a place of her own. And since Brinley isn’t living with you anymore, I thought maybe . . .”

  I blink at him. I think I left half my brain in the bathroom with Stella, because it takes much longer than it should for his meaning to register. He doesn’t want to kick my ass for hooking up with his sister; he wants me to let his sister move in with me.

  He wants Stella to live in my house.

  My feelings for her might be all over the place, but I know for sure I can’t have her under my roof. Stella’s brand of wild isn’t something I want Hope exposed to on a day-to-day basis . . . which is just further proof that I’m a hypocritical ass. And hell, even though I’m the one who wants casual, I don’t want to see the guys she brings home, couldn’t handle overhearing her being with them. That level of casual isn’t in my DNA. “Does she know you’re asking?”

  “What? No, man. I wouldn’t make it awkward for you like that.” He frowns. “You’re not okay with this? You let Brinley move in back in April, so I thought . . .”

  “It’s nothing against Stel
la. The thing with Brinley was just a temporary situation and . . .” And I don’t want to bend Brinley over the bed and fuck her until she screams my name.

  Right. Maybe it’s not the way Stella would behave in front of my daughter that I need to worry about.

  I drag a hand through my hair and blow out a breath. “I want to help, but Stella deserves to come and go as she pleases without worrying about our schedules. I don’t think it’d be a good fit.”

  Dean’s gaze drifts to a spot over my shoulder, and I turn to see his attention on the pool house. “What if I helped you remodel the pool house? Once we knock it into shape, Stella could live in there and pay you rent. You wouldn’t hear her coming and going.”

  Before we opened our construction company, Dean and I used to flip houses. We started in college and had no capital to speak of—just a couple of credit cards and the crappy little outdated three-bedroom by campus that Grandpa left me when he passed. Dean and I saw the potential and decided to fix it up and see if we could make some money. We did all the work ourselves for the first few years, so I know we could handle the pool house in a couple of weeks of evenings and weekends—if that. It’s small, and most of the work it needs is superficial.

  But do I want Stella to be my tenant?

  “I know Stell is a little over-the-top and can rub you the wrong way, but—”

  “What? No, that’s not it.” Fuck. The housing situation in Orchid Valley is a nightmare—the tourists and weekenders from Atlanta have driven the prices of everything so high that half the people who work in the OV live halfway to Atlanta. If Stella’s going to nursing school and keeping a job at The Orchid, she doesn’t need to be losing hours of her week to her commute. “She didn’t tell me she was going back to school.”

  Dean nods. “Yeah. Turns out her English degree isn’t producing the best job opportunities. Who would’ve seen that coming?” He rolls his eyes, just in case I didn’t catch the sarcasm dripping from his voice. Dean’s the opposite of his sister in so many ways. Stella’s carefree and impulsive, and Dean’s all sense and practicality. Stella’s choice of major was the subject of many Dean lectures and rants, which only made Stella double down on her decision and refuse to explain what jobs she’d be pursuing.