Reckless Kisses Read online

  “I mean it.” He leans in and glides his arms around me, his forehead touching mine for just a brief moment. “Sunday, I’ll be honest, I can’t wrap my head around what you just said. I’m the one who’s in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since the beginning. When I heard you wanted to come to Briggs, I made it my first choice so I could be near you. You’re my first choice. You’re my only choice.” Those dark navy eyes press into me, and it’s as if his soul is confirming what his mouth just spoke. “I love you, Sunday Knight. I will never love another girl the way I love you. You’re it for me. You were from the beginning.”

  “So, Trixie was right all along?” An impish grin rides up my cheeks. “You’ve been my most proficient stalker?”

  He tips his head back and barks out a laugh. “Perspective is everything.”

  “You know what else is everything?” My breathing picks up pace, and it’s hard to contain this flood of emotion. My hands glide up his sweatshirt, and a jolt of electricity jumps from him to me as soon as my hands make contact with his skin. Skin over steel. Seth is that rock-hard.

  His lids hood low as he leans dangerously close. “What’s everything?”

  I pull him in by the neck until his lips are just a hair away from mine. “The things you’re going to do to me tonight.”

  His mouth latches onto mine, and just like that, Seth and I detonate in an explosion of love. All tongues and teeth, pulling and tugging at one another as he dances us down the hall and into his bedroom. The faint scent of his cologne lingers in the air as he lands us next to his mattress. Seth and I strip one another clean until we’re without a stitch of clothing. I lean back and take him in, his wide chest, the cut six-pack, the hard V that leads to another hard element of his body. It both shocks and exhilarates me.

  He exhales with a sigh, and a part of me is afraid he’s seen enough and wants a refund on his night. “My God, you are beautiful.” He swallows hard as he eyes my distended belly—not exactly your standard cover girl fare. His hand glides over it, and he shakes his head. “So damn beautiful.”

  “I’m cold, too,” I tease. “How about you find a creative way to warm me up?” I run my finger over his lips. “Like, say, with your mouth?”

  Seth lands a kiss over my lips, lingering and subtle at first before bringing something much darker to the party. Seth rides his hands slowly over my body as if he were mapping out the geography of human anatomy for the very first time. He lands us on his mattress and brushes every last inch of me with his mouth, that tongue that makes me cry out with pleasure I never knew possible. Seth is a master with his body, with mine. Carefully, ever so slowly, he enters me and we become one, and I feel it this time, soak it in, feel him hitting the deepest part of me, and tears come to my eyes because this is how it should have been in the beginning. Seth and I, making love, having a good time—not in some frat house where neither of us belongs, not with me running through the snow the next morning like some fugitive. We belong here, in each other’s arms, with our bodies interlocked as if it were the last piece to the puzzle, and it is. Seth and I make the perfect picture. We always have.

  Seth makes love to me thoroughly, leaving no sexual stone unturned. Deep down, I knew there was no one else who could have scratched that itch. I only wish I realized it last December before it was too late. When all is said and finished, he scoots down to my belly and lands a warm kiss right over the top.

  “I love you, Little Fish. I promise I do. I never meant to hurt your mom.”

  “Hey”—I reel him back up to me—“you could never hurt me if you tried.”

  “Sometimes the greatest damage is done when we don’t even mean it.”

  Seth kisses the back of my neck and quickly falls asleep, but I stay awake until the sun comes up, reliving each glorious moment with the man I love and wondering what the heck he meant by those cryptic words.

  Seth

  The afternoon sun tickles my lids as I struggle to open them. My head feels thick, my tongue dry as if I just pulled an all-nighter, and then the events that unfolded these last few hours come crashing back, and I realize indeed I pulled the best all-nighter ever—with Sunday, in Sunday, in heaven.

  A groan begs to work its way up my throat as I pry my lids open, but I won’t let it. Instead, I give a few hard blinks and stare right into Sunday Knight’s hair, a dark blonde flurry tangled across my chest, her warm body pressed to mine as my arm drapes over her midsection, my hand right over the small bulge of her belly. Little Fish, our Little Fish. As much as I feel like an ass for not coming clean, I can’t help but drink down the moment. This is how it can be—will be for Sunday and me. I’m sure we’ll iron out all the details soon enough. As much as I want to blurt out the truth, I don’t think my bed is the time or place. Nope. Baby steps—no pun intended. We should probably cement ourselves for a few days at least, and then I’ll find a delicate way to tell her. I’m assuming she won’t be thrilled I’ve held this info close to the vest since before Christmas.

  The scene in the Black Bear comes back to me. Eli and Sunday talking and laughing, having a genuine good time. Just the thought of Eli trying to land his mitts on her has the ability to send me into a rage. Sunday and I have been long in the works. We’re meant for one another. We get one another. Eli and Sunday—that would be forced. I don’t even think she likes the guy. But Sunday is so nice, so bent on doing what’s right, she might think it’s for the best if they ended up together. It breaks my heart that I’ve led her to such a dark conclusion. I’ll have to put an end to this and tell Sunday the truth before she does something radical like runs off and marries the dude. Eli’s a nice guy. He’s nowhere near the player the student body has pegged him to be. But if he knew he had a shot with Sunday, he might just take it. He’d be a fool not to. Sunday is perfect in every way—genuinely sweet, a smile that can light up a football stadium, a face that could launch a thousand ships—and she happens to be very fertile. So am I apparently, and together we made a Little Fish who will undoubtedly make a big splash in this world one day soon. We need to tell our families. I’ll need a Kevlar vest and maybe a safety helmet when it comes to her brothers—probably her father, too. My parents will be disappointed, confused, and frightened, but they won’t admit to any of those three. Misty—she’ll be understanding. She might even try to talk Nolan out of the homicide he’ll be looking into—namely mine. Nevertheless, all arrows point to me telling Sunday as soon as possible.

  I take in a lungful of air laced with Sunday’s sweet scent, roses and cinnamon. A light moan escapes her as she presses her bottom into my morning wood. My hand moves down reflexively, and I end up cupping the softest part of her.

  A hard breath escapes her as she twists into me. Her mascara is smudged, her hair tousled as she blinks up at me with those citrine eyes glowing like headlamps.

  “Damn, you look hot in the morning.” I didn’t mean to say it out loud, but the truth is, Sunday deserves to hear it. I press a gentle kiss over her forehead. “Are you hungry?” I swallow hard because I’m suddenly hungry, and it has very little to do with food.

  A dark laugh bubbles in her chest, and it ricochets throughout my body. I lean down and land my mouth over hers as I take a gentle bite from her bottom lip. Sunday wraps her arms around me tight and trails kisses all the way to my ear. “Did last night really happen?”

  “That depends.” I take a playful bite out of her shoulder. “Did you like it?”

  “Seth!” She pulls back and laughs, her face bright as noon. “I loved it. And I love you.” She scratches on my chest, and just like that, I’m shaking to have her. I can’t blame myself. I’ve got Sunday Knight naked in my bed. The girl I’ve been panting after for the better part of forever. Yes, I want her. I need her more than water or oxygen.

  “I love you, too.” I press a kiss over her heated forehead. “So, on a scale of one to ten, I was an eleven, right?” The dark laugh is all mine now. I give her sides a light tweak, and she bucks in my arms wi
th a laugh.

  “I don’t know.” Sunday is the worst kind of tease because she’s completely unaware she’s doing it. Her gaze hooks to mine as she flirts mercilessly. Her shoulders bounce up and down, and my mouth dares me to land over one, take another far more nefarious bite this time. “I think we’d better go another round before I can give a proper assessment.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I pull her in close. Sunday is tiny by nature, but she’s curvy in all the right places, and it’s been ecstasy mapping out every last trace of her with my hands, my mouth. Sunday’s body tastes like wine, and I look forward to getting drunk off her again and again. I run a line of kisses down her nose, between her beautiful tits, down her belly, and draw a small heart over the life that’s growing inside her. “Did I hurt you last night?” I ask, floating back up and wrapping my arms around her.

  “No.” She nuzzles a quick kiss into my neck before pulling back. “I told you a thousand times, no. And I don’t think you need to treat me like glass.”

  “Okay, but I’m not giving you a pounding either.”

  Her entire body shakes with laughter. “Please give me something. I’m a ball of anxious hormones, and I’m craving anything you’re willing to thrust my way.” She bites down on a smile, a shy awkwardness suddenly peeking through. “You’re pretty amazing, you know that?”

  “In bed? Yeah, I know that,” I tease.

  She swats me over the arm. “In general.” She averts her gaze. “Okay—in bed, too, but if you tell anyone I said that, I might deny it. Unless, of course, you get right to it and blow me out of the water with your mad mattress skills.” She leans in and licks a line up my chest before landing her mouth over mine with a brutal kiss that says make me yours and make it memorable all at the same time. She pulls back, panting, that primal look in her eyes speaks volume to the fact I’d better make haste. Sunday is insatiable, and I’m not too sorry about it. “Your move, Baker.”

  “Challenge accepted.”

  My mouth seals over hers as Sunday and I wrestle it out. I take her three different ways, and Sunday never complains, simply calls out for more. My mouth finds a home over the most delicate part of her, my heart accelerating to outright dangerous levels as she knots up the sheets with her hands. Sunday fists the hair at my temples and roars like a lioness as she hits her zenith. I glide up her beautiful body, and my mouth doesn’t miss a beat on the way to her lips. My body pushes into hers over and over as we spend the rest of the morning repeating last night’s performance on a loop.

  When we’re through, we nap, we shower, we share a kiss that steams up the bathroom ten times hotter than that water could ever hope to get. I make Sunday breakfast wearing nothing but a pair of old sweat pants, Sunday in my T-shirt and she looks like a goddess. I don’t quite understand how lucky I got. Someway, somehow, I stepped into a magic portal back in December, and now I’m living out my fantasies with the girl of my dreams. And I pray to God I don’t wake up, that neither of us wakes up. But most of all, I pray this doesn’t morph into a nightmare and take us down in the process. I’ve got to cut loose one hell of a secret, and for both our sakes—for the sake of the three of us, I had better do it soon.

  The next meeting at the media club, I wait until the room clears out and it’s just Trixie and Rush. I’m not sure why, but I’ve never felt like a third wheel with them. And now that I’m officially with Sunday, I get why Trixie and Rush are always so damn hands-on whenever they’re together. It’s because they can’t help it. God knows all I want to do is spend time with Sunday. And when I spend time with Sunday, all I want to do is land my hands all over her. But I’m not saying a word to Rush about that. Nope. As far as he’s concerned, Sunday and I are still clear in the friend zone. He’d lop my dick off if he thought otherwise, and he wouldn’t think twice.

  “Baker”—Rush doesn’t look up from his laptop—“are you taking off, or did you stay behind to flirt with me?”

  Trixie sneers, and I can’t help but roll my eyes. Trix thinks everything Rush does and says is freaking hilarious. She didn’t always, though. She thought pretty little of Rush in the beginning, much like Sunday did with me.

  “Just letting you two know I’m meeting with someone from Collins and Associates today.”

  Rush glances up, doesn’t bother to move. “The law firm?”

  “Yup.”

  Trixie’s mouth falls open with disbelief. “Is this for the shelter funds?”

  “That’s right.”

  Rush slaps his laptop shut and gives a hoot of a laugh. “Dude, you’re a genius.”

  “I don’t know about that.” The back of my neck lights up with heat, and I scratch it. I’m pretty sure Rush isn’t going to think I’m such a genius when he finds out I’ve knocked up his sister. Nope. But I am sure he’ll have a few other choice words for me. None of them will be flattering, at least not pertaining to my gray matter.

  “Let’s see”—Trixie chokes as if she were scoffing—“first, you set up enough food drives to launch a decent foundation, then you fan out to the first small businesses you see and convince them to match the funds, doubling them overnight. You do it four times after that, and we’re at a hundred grand. Sure, you’re still a hundred fifty grand away, but you keep this math-a-magic up and we’ll be at a million by the end of the semester.”

  “You’ve got six weeks.” Rush flexes a dry smile. Rush has a way of making you feel that no matter how well you do you can do better. He reminds me a lot of my dad in that way. He’s going to make a hell of an uncle. Just hope I live to see it.

  “Six weeks. Don’t I know it.” I pull my backpack up over my shoulder and head on out. A part of me wanted to say something, hint at the fact I was interested in Sunday, but it didn’t feel like the right time. I don’t know. I thought having Trixie there might be a buffer, but she was just as tense to be around as he was. She’s Sunday’s roommate. She might know something. I haven’t exactly pried to see what Sunday is sharing and with whom, but maybe it’s time we compared notes—about a lot of things.

  The Sloppy Pelican is clear across town in a far more residential area in comparison to WB. Misty set up the meeting for me and said she’d swing by to do the intros. Misty’s been teaching on campus—creative writing—and loves it. She’s got a devout following of grad students who look to my sister as if she were a scholarly deity. Yes, Misty can wield a mean pen. In fact, she’s the one who gave me an interest in both reading and writing—not that I’ve had a chance to tackle much of either over the last few months. But as much as she hounds me to share my work with her, there’s no way I’d do it. That’s like stepping out naked in front of someone, and I sure as hell don’t want to put myself out there in front of my sister. Nope. She might be a great professor, but that’s one class I’ll have to skip.

  I head into The Pelican, and the place smells like beer and burgers. I like it already. Heck, I’ve appreciated The Sloppy Pelican ever since it opened. I spot Misty at a table near the bar, waving like mad, so I head on over. Misty is never short on enthusiasm, and I’ve always appreciated that about her. Misty and I share the same dark hair, same bone structure. I can see myself in her if I stare long enough. But thankfully she’s built like a ballerina and I’m built like a linebacker. We do share the same heart, though, and that’s to help the ones we love. That’s what I’m doing right now, helping the one I love—Sunday. It’s going to take some major balls to hit Collins and Associates up for over a hundred grand, and that’s what I came here with—some major balls. I’ve been wielding them ever since I slept with Sunday the first time around. I don’t see the point in putting them away right now.

  “Here you are!” She pulls me down to the table. “Shep will be here in a minute. He just texted and said he was running a bit behind. You’re going to really like him. His father owns Collins and Associates, and his brother, Axel, owns a stake in this place. They’re all attorneys.” She waves it off. “So what’s going on with you? I haven’t seen nearly as much of
you as I thought I would. What’s been holding you down? Or should I say who?” Her lips pinch tight as if pinning me with the accusation.

  “There might be a who.” I hold back a laugh. It feels good to get it off my chest, or at least the hint of it. I haven’t told a soul that I’m into Sunday, let alone with her. She’s my girlfriend, and as eighth grade as that sounds I’m proud of it—of her. I want to tell the world, and it kills me that I can’t. But if anyone can be a safe place for me, it’s Misty. “I’m seeing someone.”

  Her eyes double in size. “Seth! Who? I promise I will not get in your way. If I see you with your arm around some girl, I won’t even run over and accost you until you introduce me, I promise. I will play by your rules. Just tell me who she is. It’s going to eat me alive if you don’t. I probably don’t even know her.”

  “You know her.” There. I already feel lighter than air. “You know her so well you’re practically related to her.”

  She inches back, baffled for a moment before her mouth falls open. “Oh my God! Are you seeing Serena?”

  “What? No. Try again.”

  “Practically related…” She shakes her head, and just like that, she sucks up all the air in the room. “Oh my God, please tell me you’re not seeing Sunday.”

  “Yes, I’m seeing Sunday. We’re together.” My affect darkens as I lean in. “And you won’t tell her brother. I swear, Nolan will go ballistic. Let her do it. We’re getting ready to tell everyone.”

  “Oh, I’m not telling.” She shakes her head, incredulous. “No way.” Her face goes white. “Seth, you’re dating Sunday.” She nods as if I should know what this means. A death sentence in most third-world countries, I’m sure. “Do you know everything there is to know about her?”

  “I’m pretty sure. Why, is there some dark history that involves a psychiatric institution?” And just as I’m about to laugh it off, I read that look on my sister’s face like a book—a maternity manual to be exact. “Oh shit. You know?”