Like many oldest children, Mom and Dad were the toughest on Jennifer because she came first. She had to babysit. She wasn’t allowed to date or drive. By the time Nick and I were teenagers, we got everything we wanted without a fight because my parents were straight-up exhausted. My theory was that they were tired of driving kids around and thankful when we got our licenses. Jennifer was understandably resentful and a relationship that should have repaired itself over time never mended.
Over the years, I’d only see Jennifer at family events where we’d exchange terse words. Only when Vanessa forced us together did we spend time around one another, but our personalities just didn’t click. I’d embarrass her with an ill-timed compliment about a haircut she hated or make an observation she thought was too crude, and then she’d freeze me out.
After I finished castigating myself for not having a comeback to Jennifer’s hate-filled words, I moved on to my regrets over how the night had ended with Chase. How did we go so wrong?
He’d been an amazing date. The last few minutes after the altercation with Jennifer were a haze, but thinking back, I’d essentially told him off. The sexiest man I’d met in forever, who seduced me in the kitchen of my brother’s wedding and stood by me during Jennifer’s shit-fit, and I’d told him to get lost. I’d quit on him.
I sucked. I could blame the sexual and sisterly frustration, but that wasn’t good enough. I owed the man an apology. I also kinda felt like he owed me an orgasm and a new pair of underwear with tearaway seams, but really, the interruptions weren’t his fault. I could only hope he’d give me another chance.
Chapter 22 - Chase
Shit. The evening had turned into total crap before my eyes. The romantic fantasy we’d built together was within reach before we were so rudely interrupted. Granted, I’d kind of fucked things up before then with the panty maneuver.
She’d overwhelmed me, and I’d gone off script, too eager to bare her soft skin. Note to self: not all panties are equally rippable. Probably something I’d know if I was actually a woman instead of pretending to be one. That thought sent my brain off on a tangent, as I wondered if I could buy fifty different brands of panties and talk Tamra into letting me try to rip them off her.
You know, for research.
I snorted. There was nothing objective about my feelings for her.
Things had been going so well up until those final moments in the kitchen. For once my mouth had helped me instead of hurt me. Pretending I was writing our romantic encounter made all the difference.
I got hard just thinking about how wet she was. Slick with desire. But in my rush to make our experience as erotic as my steamiest scenes, I’d ruined the moment. Judging by her response when I dropped her off, I wasn’t getting a redo either. Fuck.
My crushing sense of disappointment had more to do with Tamra’s anger than panties. She was uniquely qualified to handle my bullshit, and her off-color sense of humor was sexier than she’d ever believe. She radiated competence and kindness. When we were together, I felt more myself, and for once that wasn’t a bad thing. Tamra was the first woman to turn toward me instead of away once I let her see the real me. She got me. She didn’t flinch when I opened my big mouth. Whether she saw me as more than a friend with benefits, was the question. My feelings had moved beyond casual after our first kiss in her kitchen. Watching her dance video that day had turbo-charged my desire for her. Tonight’s wedding had been my chance to get her to see me as more than a friend, but I’d blown it.
I needed to find a way to salvage the situation with Tamra. I wanted to explore our chemistry further. If she’d let me. So, I did what I always did after a social fail and reached out to Jimmy for advice.
Chase: Can you come over? I need your unique brand of Dr. Phil. This may require a visual demonstration.
Jimmy: WTF Chase? If nothing else, I’m intrigued. Be there in twenty.
Chase: Thanks, friend. I’ll have a chilled beer ready with your name on it.
I paced my apartment after confirming that I did have beer in the fridge, including Jimmy’s favorite IPA. I couldn’t get the images of Tamra’s elegant spine out of my mind. Each bump like a trail to heaven. Her skin had gleamed. It had drawn my touch like velvet I couldn’t resist stroking. Every inch of skin I exposed made me want more. She seemed to enjoy the interlude, right until the end. Thinking about her smooth skin beneath my fingertips made my body tighten painfully.
I closed my eyes in agony as my brain fast-forwarded to the unfortunate end to that evening. Her sister’s reaction had been over-the-top considering we were consenting adults in relative privacy. Maybe it wasn’t the classiest move trying to seduce Tamra in the kitchen at her brother’s wedding, but what could I say? Love was in the air. Lust was in my pants. Tamra was all I could see.
Jimmy knocked, and I was relieved to have someone to vent to. Something about my wild expression tipped him off. “Dude. You don’t look so good. But first, I was promised beer,” he said.
I shook my head, unsure where to start. Liquid refreshment wasn’t a bad first step. “Let me deliver on my beer promise before I get into it,” I said as I moved to the fridge and grabbed us a couple of bottles.
The glass was refreshingly cool in my hand after my steamy thoughts. I rubbed the bottle across my forehead, enjoying the condensation slipping against my skin.
