Say You’ll Stay Read online

  He didn’t want her casual acceptance of his brother to tug at the Gordian knot of his heart. Didn’t want her to be here. Didn’t want to care about her anymore.

  But he did. It was bedrock, part of his foundation. He’d been waiting for her for so long, and he’d risked everything by leaping in without knowing how far he had to fall. Or how bad the landing could hurt. He’d kicked himself to hell and back, yet he couldn’t put the mess all on her tab.

  Aly was here. She must’ve been trying to find him for a while because a gay bar was the last place anyone would look.

  “Buy the lady a drink, Marco,” Stefan ordered. “We’re headed out. Work tomorrow, not that you’d know anything about the office grind.”

  Julian scooted the length of the booth and waved over the waiter. “I’m staying at Stefan’s tonight. The guest bedroom is yours if you want it. You know where to find the key.”

  Alyssa slid into the bench they’d exited. Not next to him. He was slouched against the wall, one leg propped up on the wood seat and taking up all the space. The waiter came back.

  “What do you want?” Marc asked, his tone harsher than he’d intended. Until tonight, he’d believed he would win this contest. It gutted him to find that the closeness building between them might’ve been all coming from his side.

  Alyssa blinked up at the waiter in the cool lights of the bar. “Whatever he’s drinking.”

  Two whiskies appeared a few silent minutes later. She sipped hers and visibly repressed a shudder.

  “Pour a little water in it.”

  Her pretty hands carefully tipped the water glass into her whisky. Despite the chipped polish on a couple of nails, her hands were elegant. The memory of her fingers barely closing around his cock sent a shudder through him. “Figured you’d be on your way back to New York by now.”

  “Still here.” She drank again and managed not to sputter this time. “Zach’s leaving. Alone.”

  “Yeah? One last goodbye kiss for old times’ sake?”

  “I know what it looked like. But that’s not what it was. I didn’t expect it. I didn’t encourage it.”

  “You didn’t think I was watching.”

  “True. It wouldn’t have mattered. Like I said, I wasn’t expecting it.”

  Okay. It didn’t mean everything was smoothed over between them, not by a long shot.

  “Do your parents know? About Julian?”

  “No. So don’t say anything for the next couple of days, or when you come back to visit next year.”

  She was silent for a beat. Her cheeks tinged pink, and she let the curtain of hair fall over half her face, hiding her expression. Marc wished she wasn’t so sexy in a plain tank top and jeans. They hugged her curves in exactly the right places, a little vee of cleavage visible between the soft rounds of her breasts.

  Aly shook her head, pushed her hair back and glanced up. “I’d never out him. I’d guessed, but until tonight I didn’t know. You can’t be assumptive about these things.”

  She reached for his hand where it cradled the whisky glass. Curled both hands around his. “You’re making assumptions about me, and about what happened this evening. It’s hard for me to talk about, but I want to tell you, if you’ll listen.”

  Her touch was cool at first, warming slowly. Marc didn’t pull away. Didn’t encourage it either. Not until Alyssa’s expression shuttered and she tried to let go. The instant their hands lost contact his skin cooled. He reached for her hand across the table and brought it to his mouth to kiss her knuckles. “I’m listening.”

  By the time she’d related the story of her relationship with Zach, his third whisky had disappeared. He’d better watch it or he’d be cabbing it back to Julian’s. “That’s fucked up.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s over now. Finally.” Alyssa withdrew, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. “Why didn’t you ever talk to me, like a normal person? Like you are now? You were always such a flirt.”

  “I tried. How come you always ran away?”

  “Because I was terrified of making an ass out of myself. You were you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “We’ve been over this. You don’t need me to shine your ego to a high gloss.” She shrugged and glanced around the edge of the high-backed booth. “There’s an entire roomful of men who’d be happy to do that for you.”

  Yeah, but he was only interested in one person’s opinion.

  “It’s not your looks as much as that…you’re so damn confident. You decided college wasn’t right for you so you went and made your own way. I admire you for that. Everyone in your family is successful because you go after what you want most.” Weirdly, Aly meant it.

  Successful. What a load of shit. He was lazy. He’d figured out that owning property could free him from a desk job, and he’d leapt at the opportunity. Because all he cared about was pleasure. Sailing. Sex. Anything he wanted.

  But he’d never been able to entirely shut down the guilt nagging from the back of his mind. Aly’s ambition had always appealed to him for this reason.

  She sat up, blush receding. “And you had to go and look like movie star just to top it all off. How many women in their late teens or early twenties have the self-assurance to walk over and strike up a conversation? I didn’t.”

  “Plenty of girls did.”

  But they hadn’t. There’d only been enough conversation to smooth over the awkwardness of getting into bed with someone you’d just met. Banter made that process a little easier, and he’d perfected it. But it had been designed for short-term and impersonal, not for getting to know someone on any meaningful level. He’d never tried to talk to women he wanted to sleep with until this week.

  He was the one who’d changed the rules. She’d been trying to play along. They’d confused the hell out of one another by switching sides of the hookup/relationship spectrum. It wasn’t fair of him to be angry with her, not when he’d given her every reason to believe short-term sex was all he’d ever wanted. Maybe this would’ve turned out better if he’d picked a couple of girls to practice on before trying to click into a relationship with Alyssa and having no fucking clue what he was doing.

  The question that Janelle’s half-assed dating game had not resolved was whether they could get past the rocky start and find some way forward.

  “I’m out after this one. Are you coming over?” The last sip of whisky didn’t burn so much this time. It warmed his innards like a campfire in the dark.

  She sat up straight with a sharp inhale. “I have to get Janelle’s car back.”

  Lesson learned. Using sex to smooth over problems wasn’t a winning strategy either. Good thing he was a quick study because Alyssa had a few things to teach him about intimacy.

  Marc openly ogled her denim-clad ass on the way to their cars. There was so little time left to make her want to stay with him. He reached around Alyssa to open the door of Janelle’s little white Volkswagen that was more rust than metal. The door stuck. Marc didn’t force it. Instead he leaned against the body of the car and trapped Aly inches from his chest. The muscles in her long neck moved as she swallowed.

  “No kissing, huh?” His voice sounded tight, the blood rushing through his veins in a tidal wave. Her mouth tilted up at the corners. All the blood in his body shot to his pelvic region.

  “That was so last night.”

  It was the only invitation he needed. She tasted of whisky and woman, all silky strength and willing surrender. Aly opened, and he took everything she would give him, then demanded more. She moaned and offered everything he wanted.

  Maybe there was some merit to his methods of smoothing over problems after all. His dick sure thought so.

  “I’ll make it worth your while. If you come with me.”

  “Coming is always worthwhile.”

  He grinned against her lips. Hardly the most risqué thing he’d ever heard from a woman, but coming from squeaky-clean Aly’s lips it was downright pornographic. She had a dirty side
he really wanted to get to know better. “I’ll follow you.”

  “There’s no need to go out of your way. I’ll get a cab.”

  Damn. He wasn’t drunk, but he didn’t want to drive any farther than necessary. He yanked open the door of the car. Palmed her ass as she got in. She turned around and shot him a grin.

  “I’ll text you the address.”

  “See you in a bit.”

  But he didn’t. He let himself into Julian’s condo, tossed his few belongings into the guest bedroom he occasionally took advantage of when sleeping on the boat or at his parents’ house were equally intolerable, and clicked on the TV to pass the time. A whole lot of it went by before he concluded Alyssa wasn’t coming, worthwhile or not.

  * * *

  The rusty Volkswagen wheezed up the street and conked out the instant she put it in park. Alyssa yanked the keys out of the ignition and grabbed her handbag.

  Janelle was on the couch in the living room. Her Louboutin-clad feet were propped on the coffee table, which must mean their parents had gone to bed. Shoes on the furniture were grounds for disownment. Everything above the thigh was gray sweats and loose T-shirt.

  Alyssa’s new least-favorite show flicked across the TV. The Bachelorette. Her sister hit the pause button. A woman in a slinky dress froze mid-rose-twirl.

  “Did you find him?”

  “Eventually.” Alyssa glared at the TV. “You should consider going out once in a while, instead of hanging around watching reruns.”

  “With what money?” Janelle clicked the TV back on. Her dark hair was tied up in a knot on top of her head, which made her appear fifteen and forty at the same time.

  “Thanks for letting me borrow your car. I noticed it was low, so I filled up the tank.”

  “Great. Thank you. I was wondering if I’d be able to get to work tomorrow.”

  Alyssa plopped next to her and snatched the remote control. The TV blinked off. “Have you told Mom and Dad how bad your financial situation is?”

  “They know. You turned it off at the good part.” She made a halfhearted grab for the remote.

  “Do they know in any detail? Maybe they’d help you out.” Fat chance. Early retirement had flipped a switch in their father from frugal to downright miser. When the family’s education savings had run out, he’d told them both to take out loans, over their mother’s protests.

  “You heard how dismissive Mom was. I’m managing.”

  Alyssa sat up. Janelle obviously didn’t want to talk about it, and she couldn’t force the issue. “I’m going out again.”

  “Meeting Marc?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Mom and Dad won’t be happy.”

  “I’m of age.”

  “You’re here to see us, not shack up with some guy.”

  “Marc’s not some guy.”

  Janelle scissored at the waist and put her feet on the floor at the same time she sat up straight. “Maybe not. I didn’t think he’d fight this hard for you. Do you know where you’re going?”

  “Julian’s apartment.”

  “I think that makes it worse.” Janelle kicked off the heels and padded toward the kitchen. “Do you know where he lives? In detail?”

  “Marc texted me the address.” Although, come to think of it, she hadn’t heard her phone go off. Alyssa followed her sister into the kitchen. Janelle took down two glasses and filled them with water from the refrigerator.

  “He’s really not just some guy for you, is he?”

  “No. Yes.” Alyssa ran her nail over the raised decorations on the glass. “He can’t be more. He’s got his big sailboat adventure soon, and he’s been planning it for years. Plus, I’m leaving in two days. I want to enjoy the little time we have left.” A rock-hard lump formed in her throat. There’d been a few too many honest moments to pretend this was short-term anymore. Janelle’s ridiculous scheme had seen to that. But it was doomed, going nowhere. Temporary. They could try to keep it going long-distance, but it was postponing the inevitable. It was better to make a clean break.

  Janelle observed her with catlike green eyes. “Better go find him then.”

  Yet the stiffness in her shoulders as she scooted off the counter stool and made for the stairs told Alyssa just how sad her sister was. She tackled Janelle with a hug from behind.

  “Thank you. For intervening this week. Your methods are questionable, but the process helped.” She’d never have regrets about not getting back together with Zach, for example.

  Janelle embraced her arms. Her topknot tickled Alyssa’s cheek as she leaned her head back. “Go call your cab.”

  But she couldn’t. Alyssa’s phone wasn’t in her handbag. It wasn’t in her pocket, or in Janelle’s rustmobile. No one picked up when she called it from the house landline her mom insisted on maintaining even though everyone had mobiles.

  Alyssa’s heart picked up its pace as every place she searched turned up empty. Fuck. The word reverberated like an echo chamber inside her head. The parrot clock struck eleven. Alyssa bit back a scream and briefly considered smashing the thing into a thousand million pieces.

  She called the bar. No one had turned in a mobile phone. Her fist smushed her lips hard against her teeth.

  Sticky note.

  Alyssa scrambled up the stairs and poked through the pockets of the clothes in her laundry hamper. The yellow square was still in the pocket of the jeans she’d been wearing when she went to find him at the boondoggle house. Triumphant, she punched the numbers into the landline.

  It rang eight times before going to voicemail.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  “Marc I lost my phone. I don’t know where I’m going. I can still get a cab if you call me back at this number with the address. Are you there? Call me.”

  Damn. It. Damnit all to hell. This was supposed to finally be their night, and she’d lost her damned, blasted, benighted, fucking phone. She was cursed. She had to be. It was the only explanation for luck this rotten.

  15

  Something hard dug into his arm. Marc rolled over and pulled out the remote control. The giant black television screen was dark and silent. He must’ve accidentally turned it off in his sleep. He tried to roll over on the soft couch cushions but his feet were trapped. He peered in the direction of his toes.

  Blanket? The ugly afghan that Julian hid in the hall closet hadn’t been there when he fell asleep. Someone was in the apartment with him. He hoped to hell it wasn’t his brother. But how would Alyssa have gotten in?

  He levered his body off the couch and stretched stiffly. Made his way to the guest bathroom and brushed his teeth. Checked his brother’s room. It was still and silent.

  Hope fluttered against his chest as he pushed the door to the guest bedroom open. A long lump under the blanket meant there was a person in the bed. Marc cracked the door wider. Hair sprawled across the pillow. A lot of it. He couldn’t tell the color in the darkness, but it was definitely a female bed lump. Alyssa. He didn’t care if she’d picked the lock, broken a window, or bashed in the door. The sight of her sent tingles through his entire body.

  He pushed the covers aside and climbed into bed next to her. Tugged her pliant body close. He’d never watched a woman sleep before. The even rise and fall of her breasts did something weird to his chest, like arousal but higher in his body, near his lungs.

  He wished he could enjoy this fleeting sense of contentedness and welcome without ruminating over the end, but he lay there awake for a long time thinking about leaving. Her going back to New York. Him going anywhere, everywhere, just as he’d always dreamed. If only he could bottle this feeling and take it with him.

  The solution was so blindingly obvious that he smacked his forehead with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around Alyssa’s sleeping body. It popped into his consciousness as a fully formed sentence. If it had been a sign, it would’ve been neon and flashing.

  Take her with you.

  Why not? They’d be completely insulated from their families. Unfett
ered, transoceanic sex on tap. Marc’s dick leapt beneath the sheets, saluting the genius of this idea. She wasn’t happy in her job. The money didn’t sound good. Alyssa was talented enough to get work as a freelancer. Though she didn’t know a mast from a tiller, she was used to living in small spaces. She’d jump at the chance. And this fragile feeling of homecoming would ride the high seas with him wherever he went.

  * * *

  Warm, hard legs tangled with hers as Alyssa tried to roll over. Her hair was plastered to her cheek. Raising one hand to brush it away, she accidentally smacked a rough chin.

  Which explained the solid wall of slow-breathing man chest against her back, and the heavy weight of an arm over her stomach. Even on the edge of consciousness she recognized Marc’s earthy scent. She pushed him over and flung her arm over him, trying to go back to sleep. It didn’t work, so she nestled into the hollow of his body and ran her hand over his torso.

  He cracked open one eye and peered at her between thick lashes. “Morning.”

  Alyssa wanted to lick the lazy smile off his face, but she was too busy enjoying where she was to move. They hadn’t so much as kissed after leaving the car parking lot last night. Yet her body was as languid and relaxed as it had been the morning she’d woken on the Escape.

  Ok. Not that relaxed. But considering she was waking up in a strange bed after breaking into a near stranger’s home, she was darn comfortable.

  “Hi.”

  Marc pulled her up and across his body. Alyssa dug her fingers through his thick hair just above his ears and kissed him thoroughly. Taking the time to taste his sleep on his lips, to let his chin scrape against hers. It made her inner thighs tense and release. She pulled her legs up, pinning him against the mattress with her knees pressed alongside his ribs. It put Marc’s erect package into very close proximity to her totally-down-with-it clit.

  “I could get used to waking up like this.”

  “Me too.” Alyssa ground against him experimentally. His lazy grin sharpened into a leer as he tilted his hips in response. A moan escaped as she shuddered. Two thin layers of cotton separated them. His boxers and her underwear. They’d have to go, but she was too busy enjoying the friction of his erection against her sex to consider the logistics.