Dreams of Perfection (Dreams Come True) Page 16

  He’d dreamed of the moment when Darcy would kiss him with the passion and intensity he always knew she possessed, but this was far beyond anything he could have imagined. Soft lips caressed his, while her sweet tongue tangled with his.

  Her body grew pliant in his arms as their breath mingled in white-hot kisses. Her fingers fisted in his hair, even as his twisted in hers, grasping and holding her lips to his. But this was Darcy! Nothing but disaster could come from this!

  She trembled in his arms, her soft moans shooting heat straight to his groin where it pooled in his abdomen. Lust so hot and sudden it threatened to scorch his very being. The hell with it. He backed into his apartment, pulling her with him, all the while ensuring her lips never left his. Slamming the door, he pressed her against it, breaking the kiss to nip and caress the silky, pheromone-scented skin of her neck. Her moan of pleasure only drove his passions higher.

  She slid her hands down his back, grazing him with her nails, before plunging into the open waistband of his jeans and kneading the bare flesh there. He grabbed her face and brought those sweet, hot lips back to his, unable to get enough of her delicious mouth.

  Thank God for the summer heat. The little summer dress she wore gave him easy access to her breasts, as he slipped the straps from her shoulders. He caressed one and then the other, as he licked and nipped, until her sighs rasped harshly in her throat. So perfect. So delicious. A dream finally realized.

  He felt her hands on his fly, tugging on the zipper. When she slipped her hand inside to stroke him, he thought he would explode. He tugged off his jeans, impatient to touch her again, then skimmed the velvety skin of her outer thighs, eliciting a shiver, before reaching around her bottom and lifting her up against the door. She wrapped her thighs around his waist, nipping at his earlobe, her breath panting in his ear.

  Shoving aside her panties, he filled her in one smooth stroke, his world narrowing to the hot, sweet bliss of the moment.

  Darcy threw her head back in pleasure so intense as to almost be unbearable. No words were necessary, as if words were even possible. Her breath snagged in her throat and her heart hammered in her chest, making deep throaty moans the only verbalizations possible. Each thrust sent her spiraling higher than the last, spinning out of control until she thought she would surely shatter.

  She grasped and clawed Josh’s shoulders as his strong arms supported her, his scorching lips caressing her face, her neck, her mouth. She warred between never wanting this to end and the desire for sweet release. As she approached the precipice, she pulled Josh’s mouth back down to hers, swallowing his cries of pleasure even as she soared over the edge.

  Nothing intruded into their secluded world but the sound of their ragged breathing. Josh’s legs trembled, his body spent from the onslaught, but he still held her, basking in the feel of being inside Darcy. Never in his life had he experienced such mind-numbing ecstasy.

  He knew guilt would soon follow. Guilt for shoving his best friend against the front door and impaling her. Even a little guilt for having just cuckolded Garrett—if cuckolding a fictional character were possible. But right now, he didn’t care. He pressed his forehead to hers and kissed her nose. “Darcy—”

  His cell phone rang. “Damn.” If he hadn’t been waiting on a call from one of the firm’s partners he’d ignore it. He gently lowered Darcy until her feet touched the floor and tugged on his jeans he ran to grab the phone.

  “Josh Ryan.”

  “Oh, Josh,” Kelly cried.

  “Kelly! What is it? Is it Daniel?” His heart took on a life of its own, threatening to bounce right out of his chest.

  “I just got home and . . . and”—she hiccoughed—“there was a Notice of Sale taped to my front door! What do I do? I can’t lose my home,” she sobbed.

  “All right, Kelly. Calm down. We’ll get this straightened out.” He could hear her still sobbing on the other end. He paced the length of his small kitchen. “Listen to me, Kelly. You aren’t going to lose your home. This is clearly a case of the right hand not knowing what the left hand is doing. I spoke to the lender’s trustee last week and we have a deal. I’m on my way, but I’m not hanging up until I can get a coherent response out of you.”

  “Okay, I’m okay, Josh,” she sniffed. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll see you soon.” Josh hung up. “Son of a bitch!” He strode out of the kitchen, zipping and buttoning his fly.

  Darcy stood in front of the door, adjusting her clothes, an apprehensive look on her face.

  Damn it! What a time to be interrupted. They needed to talk, but it would have to wait.

  “I’m sorry, Darcy, I have to go.” He scrubbed his hand through his hair. He didn’t know whether to hug her or kiss her, or just leave her alone.

  “I heard. It’s fine.” Her voice sounded tiny, as if she wanted to go unnoticed.

  He swore to himself that he’d make it up to her as he dashed into the bedroom, grabbed a shirt and some shoes and got dressed.

  When he came out, Darcy was gone.

  That afternoon, Darcy waited for Laura in the lobby of the fitness center for their biweekly Booty Barre class. Emotionally, she wasn’t up for it, but she knew Laura would track her down like a bloodhound after an escaped convict if she didn’t show.

  Laura walked in, the ever-present smartphone to her ear, looking as if she were one of those TV fitness celebrities in her Lululemon color-coordinated yoga outfit. “Yes, I’m meeting with the client on Monday morning, and I should have the creative brief to the team first thing Tuesday morning. In the meantime, I need numbers on their target audience on my desk later today. I’ll swing by and pick them up before my meeting with the airline account. Right. Bye.” She shoved her phone into her bag.

  “Wow! Look at you, lookin’ all . . .” She gasped, staggering back. “You got laid!”

  “No, I didn’t.” Even Darcy could hear the defensiveness in her tone.

  Laura waggled her finger at her. “Don’t deny it. You’ve got that JBF look. You and Blake finally did the deed! And recently, judging by the dreamy eyes and the flushed cheeks! Took you long enough. So, how was it?” she asked conspiratorially, elbowing Darcy in the ribs.

  Damn Laura and her Super Sex Sensor Skills. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but no we didn’t. Blake’s in India, remember?” She fumbled in her gym bag, hiding her face from Laura’s scrutiny. “Your Sex Sensor is on the fritz.”

  “Huh.” She scrutinized Darcy once more. “Well, that’s a first.” She followed Darcy into the fitness room. “Maybe I’m losing my touch.”

  Chapter 32

  Darcy stumbled her way through class, her mind about thirty blocks away in Josh’s apartment . . . against his door . . . in his arms . . . having mind-blowing sex. Stop it!

  Laura said the Perfect Kiss didn’t exist. Well, she was Wrong, with a capital ‘W’. Darcy had finally experienced the Perfect Kiss and its owner was Josh. He’d kissed her with the ideal combination of heat and tenderness, seduction and devotion, need and fulfillment. What was she supposed to do now?

  The guilt she carried around threatened to drop her to her knees under its weight. She and Blake had never said they were exclusive, but they never said they would see other people either. She was a horrible, horrible person. Slut! Tramp! Tart! She was no better than Doug ‘The Cheating Bastard’ Lansing. She groaned. She was Darcy ‘The Cheating Ho’ Butler.

  “You okay?” Laura panted, as she performed her double-time battements.

  “Tough workout,” Darcy huffed.

  It had been a mistake on so many levels. First, there was the whole Blake issue. How could she ever face him again? Second, there was Josh—her best friend—and you didn’t have sex with your best friend . . . up against a door . . . or anywhere else for that matter. What must he think of her? What would this do to their relation
ship? She didn’t want to lose him. And really, she was to blame. She’d grabbed him, kissed him, fondled him. Another moan escaped, inviting another look from Laura.

  Third, she’d finally experienced her Perfect Kiss. She was ruined for any other kisses. How could she ever be satisfied with anything less again?

  Josh closed his front door and dropped his keys on the console table in his foyer. Turning, he stared at the door where just hours ago he’d had the best sex of his life. He could still recall the feel of Darcy’s legs around his waist, the taste of her skin beneath his tongue. He would never look at the back of his door again without seeing her there, eyes glazed with desire, lips swollen from his kisses.

  Releasing a weighty sigh, he went to the fridge for a beer and took a deep, satisfying pull. What a day. He’d gone from one extreme to another. Frustration over Darcy’s treatment of Millie, soaring heights of passion with Darcy, instant fight or flight with Kelly, despair over the potential damage to his relationship with Darcy.

  He’d told Darcy that he’d always tell her the truth no matter how much it hurt. But that was a lie. He didn’t tell her the truth when it came to his feelings for her.

  At least Kelly’s issue had been resolved. It was exactly as he’d thought. Communication of the mortgage deal hadn’t trickled down to the clerical staff. What a cluster fuck. But he’d calmed Kelly down, and decompressed on the subway ride back to SoHo.

  He rubbed the back of his neck where the muscles knotted with tension. What he needed was a long, hot shower. Passing the front door again on the way to his bedroom, another memory of Darcy, looking timid and small, flashed through his mind.

  He groaned. What had he done? He’d finally fulfilled a deep-seated need, but at what cost?

  Josh had left five messages for Darcy. Clearly she wasn’t taking his calls. He had no other choice but to knock on her door and beg her to talk to him. He had to make this right, and he’d made up his mind to make it right by telling her the truth, once and for all, and let the proverbial chips fall where they may.

  He knocked on her door, then shoved his hands in his pockets, hoping to calm his nerves.

  The door flew open. “Josh! What are you doing here?” Darcy stood, a surprised expression on her face, wearing a baggy pair of sweats and a ratty T-shirt he recognized from their trip to Ben & Jerry’s Factory Tour and Flavor Graveyard almost eight years ago, her hair in a messy twist on top of her head. She looked adorable and very kissable. And exhausted.

  “What am I doing here? Why didn’t you answer my calls? That’s what I’m doing here.”

  “I’ve just been busy . . . with the manuscript.”

  “Can I come in?”

  “Um, sure.” She left him at the door as she walked into the living room.

  “Can I get you something, soda, beer? Oh, I guess it’s a little early for beer.” She twisted her hands nervously in front of her.

  “Darcy, if I wanted something to drink, I’d get it myself, just like I always have.”

  “Right. Josh—”

  “Darcy—”

  They both spoke at the same time.

  “We need to talk.” Josh said, then winced at the sound of it. “I mean—”

  “Josh”—she paced away from him—“I’m really sorry about the other day. It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have thrown myself at you.” She turned back to him. “I plead temporary insanity.” She lifted the corner of her mouth in a small, watery smile. “Your friendship means too much to allow this . . . moment of weakness to get in the way. Can we just forget it ever happened?”

  Josh felt sick. An eight hundred pound elephant had just stepped on his chest . . . and started bouncing on it. A mistake? That’s what sex with him had been? Forget it ever happened? Not likely. Not ever. So much for coming clean. He knew now where he stood.

  “Josh, are we okay? Please, just say we’re okay. I can’t lose you.” Tears spilled over, running down her face.

  He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her, but that was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place, so he just stood his ground, feeling as if gravity were twice what it should be. “We’re okay. Please. Don’t cry.”

  “I’m so sorry, Josh.”

  “Yeah. Me, too. Listen, I’m meeting some of the guys for basketball, so I’ll call you later?”

  “Sure.” She swiped her hand across her face, wiping away her tears.

  Josh strode to the front door, looking back one more time at what could have been. But no more. It was time to face reality. And reality declared it was time to move on.

  As soon as she heard the door click, Darcy’s legs gave out and she crumpled to the floor and burying her face in her hands. She’d ruined everything. No matter how hard they tried, things would never be the same between her and Josh. Maybe one day they’d get over the awkwardness, but there would always be this thing between them, a scar on their friendship, a constant reminder of their momentary indiscretion.

  And where was Blake in all this? Adding to the layer of guilt she already felt was remorse for having given so little thought to her feelings for Blake and how she should handle the situation with him. He’d be back any day now and she didn’t have a clue what to do. She desperately needed someone to talk to, someone who could give her sound advice, but she was too mortified by her actions to share them with anyone, especially Laura. And the painful irony was that she usually went to Josh for sound advice.

  Her conscience told her to come clean with Blake, but telling him would strain the already tenuous relationship he had with Josh. Even if she and Blake were to marry, she couldn’t just write Josh out of her life. She needed Blake and Josh to at least tolerate one another. That couldn’t be if Blake knew they’d had sex.

  So far, Blake hadn’t shown any signs of a jealous side, then again, she hadn’t really given him a reason to. Until now. But fear that he might confront Josh urged her to keep the incident a secret. She didn’t want to be the cause of an argument, or worse, a physical altercation, between the two men.

  That settled it. She wouldn’t tell Blake. The only purpose it would serve would be to alleviate some of her guilt, and she didn’t deserve to unburden herself. She deserved to carry the guilt around her neck like Coleridge’s Albatross.

  Having reached a decision, the knot in her stomach loosened just a bit. But only a bit.

  Chapter 33

  Two weeks later, Darcy showed the caterer to her kitchen so she could set up for the party and then returned to help Millie with the decorations, doing her best to calm her frayed nerves. The source of her nerves wasn’t the party. Darcy could throw a shindig with the best of them. The source of the nerves was the shindig’s honoree.

  Months ago, Darcy had happily volunteered to throw Josh a party in celebration of his partnership in her father’s law firm. But that was before their recent sexscapade. Nevertheless, a promise was a promise.

  It wasn’t as if she didn’t want to throw her best friend a party, she did. But did the party have to follow so closely on the heels of their . . . illicit encounter? If she got through it without spontaneously combusting in mortification it would be a miracle.

  “Darcy, where do you think we should have guests put any cards and gifts?”

  “We can clear off the small console table in the foyer.”

  “Perfect.” Millie carried her ever-present clipboard and ticked off her schedule of events for the evening. “First, the honoree will say a few words, followed by your father, and the honoree’s mother.”

  Butterflies danced in Darcy’s stomach. She loved Josh’s mom, but seeing her after having had door-sex with her son would be as mortifying as seeing Josh again.

  “Next, we’ll open the buffet line. After everyone has filled their plates, we’ll begin the slide show—”

  With
the help of some of Josh’s colleagues, and his mother, Darcy’d put together a slide show of photos from law school, the day he graduated, the day he passed the bar, and the day he won his first case.

  Mixed in were shots from around the office, like the one of Josh’s office after his colleagues decorated it in honor of the Yankees’ 2009 World Series win, another one of him in one of the firm’s conference rooms, the table covered in documentary evidence for an upcoming trial and Josh with his head on the table sound asleep. Then there were the photos of him with clients from the Women’s Legal Fund of Harlem, including Kelly, all set to “Razzle Dazzle” from Chicago.

  “Followed by much drunken revelry, with guests dancing around with lampshades on their heads,” Darcy interjected, dryly.

  Millie frowned at Darcy. “That’s not on the list and you know it.”

  “Relax, Millie. I bet even if we don’t stick to your schedule, everyone will have a good time, and we’ll still hit the evening’s high points.”

  “Just trying to be helpful,” Millie said, sliding the pen behind her ear.

  Relax, she says. A case of do as I say, not as I do, if I ever saw one. How could she relax when every time she looked at Josh her knees turned to Jell-O and her stomach felt as if she were riding Coney Island’s Cyclone roller coaster?

  Darcy stepped back to review their handiwork. The living room furniture had been pushed up against the walls, leaving space for the partiers. The dining room table awaited trays loaded with some of Josh’s favorites, including her gourmet pigs in a blanket.

  Through the kitchen, on the other side of the stairs, they’d set up a bar area featuring wine, beer, water, and mixers. The revelers could spill out her back door and into her snug garden, now covered by a tent with tiny white lights that would twinkle once the sun set. The DJ would set up there. She’d promised her neighbors the noise would be over no later than eleven o’clock. The only thing left for Darcy to do was to get dressed. And strap on a pair while she was at it. Yep. Time to put on a dress, and man up.