Read Online Not Second Best by Christa Maurice - Free Book Online
Authors: Christa Maurice
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before he gave up and got out of bed at noon. Last night he’d slept straight through from the time he’d cuddled her close until she’d dropped something in the bathroom and swore.
“Tessa?” he called.
“Go back to sleep,” she said.
He climbed out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom where she was putting on makeup. She was wearing a tan skirt and a yellow top that made her hot and cool and completely in control at the same time. “Mornin’ baby.” He wrapped his arms around her waist.
“G’morning.” She kissed his cheek and turned back to applying mascara.
“This is nice.”
“What’s nice?” She made that weird face women make when they’re putting on mascara, and on her, it didn’t look stupid.
“Waking up together.” He nuzzled her neck. She still smelled faintly of sex and sweat.
“It would be better if I wasn’t running late.”
That had to be good, didn’t it? She hadn’t wanted to get out of bed with him. “You want me to get you some breakfast? I can cook.”
“I don’t. There’s nothing to cook. I’ll just run through Starbucks and grab coffee.” She screwed the mascara wand back into its bottle and tossed it into a basket beside the mirror.
Brett teased his fingers under the hem of her skirt. “How late are you?”
“Too late for that.”
“So, be late.” He kissed the curve of her jaw right where it ran under her earlobe.
“No.” She slipped away from him.
“I’ll take a rain check for tonight then.” He followed her to the bedroom and watched her step into a pair of boring brown pumps. She worked boring brown pumps better than most chicks worked stilettos.
“I can’t tonight. I have plans.”
“All night?”
“Until late.” Picking up a jacket that matched her skirt, she slipped it on. “Lock up when you leave.”
Something ugly and hard formed in his stomach. “Well, what about tomorrow?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to call you.” At the top of the stairs, she scooped up a briefcase and her purse and kissed his cheek. “Don’t forget to lock up when you leave.”
“Yeah,” he said to the closing door. It was like being patted on the head.
His shirt was on the dining room floor, and his jeans were still in the hall with his underwear. She had a nice house. Comfortable, except for the living room and dining room she never used. The bathroom off her bedroom had blue and green tiles staggered across the wall and a shower curtain with palm trees printed on it. He stood under the water, trying to banish the uneasy sensation she’d left him with.
She’d left him alone in her house but had kissed him on the cheek on her way out.
She’d let him stay the night last night.
But she’d rushed out the door this morning.
Yesterday, she’d screwed him in every square inch of her house.
But… Shit.
He turned off the water and toweled himself dry then dressed in yesterday’s clothes and walked around the house. On the dresser and bedroom walls, she had a few family pictures, all recent. Her sisters and mother, her brother and sister-in-law, her nephews and nieces. Her sisters and brother all had kids, and she had none. Why?
He supposed the answer to that was in the pictures hanging in the living room. She had snaps of herself with some major players. Rock stars, movie stars, athletes. And then there was the framed portrait of her graduation. While her sisters had been settling down and having families, Tessa had been getting a law degree and running with the big dogs.
He loaded their plates into the dishwasher and threw out the leftovers. In the bedroom, he made the bed and checked to see if he’d left anything behind. How could he have? He hadn’t brought anything with him. On a walk through the rest of the house, he fixed the couch cushions in her downstairs rec room. The room she really lived in. Deep, soft couch, big TV. Everything lush and comfortable and relaxing.
Shooting a glare at the big blue velvety couch where they had
“Tessa?” he called.
“Go back to sleep,” she said.
He climbed out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom where she was putting on makeup. She was wearing a tan skirt and a yellow top that made her hot and cool and completely in control at the same time. “Mornin’ baby.” He wrapped his arms around her waist.
“G’morning.” She kissed his cheek and turned back to applying mascara.
“This is nice.”
“What’s nice?” She made that weird face women make when they’re putting on mascara, and on her, it didn’t look stupid.
“Waking up together.” He nuzzled her neck. She still smelled faintly of sex and sweat.
“It would be better if I wasn’t running late.”
That had to be good, didn’t it? She hadn’t wanted to get out of bed with him. “You want me to get you some breakfast? I can cook.”
“I don’t. There’s nothing to cook. I’ll just run through Starbucks and grab coffee.” She screwed the mascara wand back into its bottle and tossed it into a basket beside the mirror.
Brett teased his fingers under the hem of her skirt. “How late are you?”
“Too late for that.”
“So, be late.” He kissed the curve of her jaw right where it ran under her earlobe.
“No.” She slipped away from him.
“I’ll take a rain check for tonight then.” He followed her to the bedroom and watched her step into a pair of boring brown pumps. She worked boring brown pumps better than most chicks worked stilettos.
“I can’t tonight. I have plans.”
“All night?”
“Until late.” Picking up a jacket that matched her skirt, she slipped it on. “Lock up when you leave.”
Something ugly and hard formed in his stomach. “Well, what about tomorrow?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to call you.” At the top of the stairs, she scooped up a briefcase and her purse and kissed his cheek. “Don’t forget to lock up when you leave.”
“Yeah,” he said to the closing door. It was like being patted on the head.
His shirt was on the dining room floor, and his jeans were still in the hall with his underwear. She had a nice house. Comfortable, except for the living room and dining room she never used. The bathroom off her bedroom had blue and green tiles staggered across the wall and a shower curtain with palm trees printed on it. He stood under the water, trying to banish the uneasy sensation she’d left him with.
She’d left him alone in her house but had kissed him on the cheek on her way out.
She’d let him stay the night last night.
But she’d rushed out the door this morning.
Yesterday, she’d screwed him in every square inch of her house.
But… Shit.
He turned off the water and toweled himself dry then dressed in yesterday’s clothes and walked around the house. On the dresser and bedroom walls, she had a few family pictures, all recent. Her sisters and mother, her brother and sister-in-law, her nephews and nieces. Her sisters and brother all had kids, and she had none. Why?
He supposed the answer to that was in the pictures hanging in the living room. She had snaps of herself with some major players. Rock stars, movie stars, athletes. And then there was the framed portrait of her graduation. While her sisters had been settling down and having families, Tessa had been getting a law degree and running with the big dogs.
He loaded their plates into the dishwasher and threw out the leftovers. In the bedroom, he made the bed and checked to see if he’d left anything behind. How could he have? He hadn’t brought anything with him. On a walk through the rest of the house, he fixed the couch cushions in her downstairs rec room. The room she really lived in. Deep, soft couch, big TV. Everything lush and comfortable and relaxing.
Shooting a glare at the big blue velvety couch where they had
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