Одри Карлан - January (Calendar Girl #1)

“Just this once,” I repeated.

That night we made love for the second time. Desperate, clawing love. Somewhere in the middle of the night, Wes woke up sober and took me again. He told me he wanted to reenact everything we did so he’d be certain to remember it. I knew I’d never forget it.

***

I woke to Wes watching me sleep. His blond, shaggy hair fell over his eyes, and I pushed it to the side, wanting to see all of him in the beautiful morning light.

“Why are you an escort?” he asked. There was no judgment, no harshness to his words. Just the simple question as if it was something he’d been dying to know since day one. He probably had.

It was time. He deserved to know why I couldn’t give him more. I know he wanted me to stay, possibly live with him to see how being together for real could turn out. He knew it didn’t bother me that he was so busy, which was the reason he claimed he didn’t do relationships. I could take care of myself and had proven it. I wasn’t a clingy chick like most trophy bitches. But that was just it. I didn’t want to be a trophy wife, or girlfriend, for that matter. It was important that I find my own way, be my own person. And right now, I couldn’t do that because I had to help my dad.

Instead of skimming the truth or making up something plausible, I laid it out for him.

“My dad owes some really bad guys some money. A lot of money.”

“I have a lot of money,” he said quietly. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes at his admission. I turned towards him, put my hands in prayer pose, and tucked them under my cheek. He mimicked my pose.

“Yes, you do, but it’s your money. My dad got in bad with some loan sharks for gambling. I’m working to pay off that debt.”

“How much?”

“A million.”

He let out a slow breath. “I have a lot of expendable money, Mia. I could help you.”

I shook my head. Knowing the type of man Wes Channing was, I knew once he found out that my family was in trouble, he’d want to help. Only this was my problem, not his.

“I know you could, but I haven’t asked for your help.” It was imperative that I make it perfectly clear that this was my decision. I wasn’t a damsel in distress and he wasn’t a white knight, charging in to save the day. Fairytales don’t exist, especially for chicks from Vegas with a truckload of baggage.

“But what if I wanted to help?”

“You’re very kind, Wes.”

He shook his head and leaned onto his back. “No Mia, I’m not. I’m selfish. I don’t want you to go. I don’t want you to go pose nude for some rich artist in Seattle. I want you here with me, in my house, and in my bed. I’ll pay whatever price it takes to get that.”

All of the air left my lungs in a whoosh. “Do you love me, Wes?”

His gaze shot to mine. “Um,” he licked his lips and bit down on the plump flesh. Made me want to kiss it better. “I know I like you. I like you a lot.”

I smiled wide and traced his nose from the bridge down to the tip with one finger. “I like you too, Wes. A lot. But this is something I have to do. Not only for my dad, though that is the driving force, but for me, too. And you need no distractions. Your movie starts filming next week. You’re going to be directing for the first time…”

Wes ran a hand through his hair. “I know all those things. That doesn’t change that I want you here.”

“I know it doesn’t. And if I’m being honest, I don’t want to go, but I am going to leave. And you and me? We’re going to stay friends. Right?”

He sighed then pulled my body up and over his. I rested my arms on his chest then leaned my chin on his sternum. “Of course we are. If nothing else, you’re the best girlfriend I’ve ever had.”

My eyebrows shot up into my hairline. “I mean, you know. Best friend that’s a girl.”

“I understand,” I pecked him on the lips.

“So you’re leaving in two days, and there’s nothing I can do or say to make you stay?”

I shook my head and rested against his heart, letting the heavy thump lull me into a place that was half awake, half asleep. I knew in my heart of hearts that the only reason I’d stay, could stay, even consider staying, would be if he loved me. There was no denying that I was falling for him, but I held a part of me back, knowing that love was never supposed to be on the table. Not after falling in love with every man I’d ever slept with. This time with Wes, I’d guarded my heart so fiercely that he’d only gotten small bits and pieces of it along the way. The whole enchilada was still safe with me in full control.

“Where does that leave us then?” He slid his hands down to cup my ass cheeks, and he gave them a tight squeeze. It reminded me of how much I was going to miss his bedroom skills. Going back to a battery-operated boyfriend was not high on my list of things I wanted to do in Seattle. Like see the phallic space needle. That was high on the list.

“How about we leave it as friends?”

He grimaced. “Best friends?” I tried.

He lifted me up by the waist, centered his hard cock between my thighs, and I sank down onto it, pierced by the steely girth and length of him. Jesus, the man was well hung, and even better, he knew exactly how to use it.

“Benefits,” I whispered on a hard thrust, and he grinned.

“Best friends, with benefits,” I said then tipped my head back, anchored my hands on his muscled pecs and squeezed from within.

Wes’s body went tight. “Now you’re talking.” He pulled me up and slammed me down. We both cried out. “Now ride me.”

Chapter 9

“What do you want to do today?” Wes asked when I entered the breakfast area. To my surprise, he was cooking, flipping pancakes to be exact. I looked around scanning the area for Ms. Croft.

“Where’s Judi?”

“Gave her the day off. Since it’s your last day, I wanted the entire day alone with you.” He grinned then winked.

I sat on the barstool in front of the island where he was finishing up our breakfast. The pancakes weren’t burnt and smelled delicious. I stared in awe at the short stack. Butter dripped down the sides enticingly mixing in with the thick syrup. Then he squirted a can of whipped cream making some type of design on the top. With a flick of his wrist, he slid the plate in front of me. On the very top of the stack was a happy face.

“Happy cakes.” He waggled his eyebrows, and I laughed. This man was such a dichotomy. Work-a-holic, surfer, escort-hiring, Jeep-driving, rich man, who made pancakes with smiley faces on them. “What?” He leaned his elbows on the counter and tilted his head. His face had the morning stubble I had gotten used to seeing, and adored. I used the tips of my fingers to skip across the prickly surface.

I shook my head and cut into the small stack of five perfectly round cakes. “You just surprise me. Every time I think I have you figured out, you sideswipe me with something else.”

Wes shrugged and dug into his own breakfast. “What can I say? I like to keep you guessing.” He smiled and I swore all those sappy chick flicks I tried to avoid were right. A good man could light up a room and make the world smaller, like something that could fit into the space where your entire focus lives.

“Back to your initial question,” I said around a mouth full of the best pancakes I’d ever eaten—including my own—in my entire life. “I’d like to take a ride on my bike,” I said, and he nodded.

“I’m game. Where we going?”

I grinned and flicked my unruly, morning bedhead hair over my shoulder. “Wherever the bike takes us. It’s not where we go. It’s the journey that counts.”

Wes came around, sat down, and then turned toward me. I faced him, thinking he was going to kiss me. He usually did first thing in the morning, but today was different. Everything about my last day felt so heavy, weighed down by the finality of it. Instead of a kiss, I got a dollop of whipped cream on my nose. “That was deep,” he said deadpan.