Undeniably Enemies: Chapter 19

Click, click, click, click. Four clicks of her lock. Four. I stare at her door and debate if I should knock, but I think the four clicks and the fact that she just ran across the hall naked is telling me she doesn’t want me to do that. Speaking of naked, I’m literally standing in the hall with my dick in my hand, and though it’s late, anyone could find me like this.

Goddammit, Wren.

Talk about a role reversal. I’m not freaking out the way I did the first time, and she is. The irony isn’t lost on me, but I don’t think this is her way of proving a point. Hesitation and doubts aren’t two things I’m known for. If anything, I’ve been called arrogant and a bit too cocky more than once. But she has me holding myself back instead of banging on her door and fucking her blind so she knows she isn’t going to be running again.

This is the second time I’m cheated out of more with her, and I don’t like it. But maybe she’s right to run. I hadn’t exactly planned on kissing her again, let alone taking it as far as I did.

Entering my apartment, I shut and lock the door, feeling shitty and unsettled. I’m half tempted to text her, but I don’t think that would go well. Neither would knocking on the wall that separates our apartments. I scrub my hands up and down my face before they fall heavily to my sides. Something sparkly on the floor catches my attention, and I pick it up.

Her bracelet.

I run the cold metal through my fingers only to snag on the clasp. It broke. Examining it a bit closer, I think I might be able to fix it. Quickly, I throw my clothes back on, grab the tool kit I just bought, and take it to the bar at the counter. My hand runs over the stone where I had her splayed out and my mouth on her pussy.

What am I doing with her? What’s my endgame with this?

Was it just a one-off? A way to scratch a five-year-old itch? Am I after something else with the pain in the ass? Or truth, did that fucking drink actually have some sort of black Voodoo magic in it? ’Til death do us part. Better fucking not be. She drives me crazy. We can hardly stand to be in the same space for longer than two minutes without fighting. Even tonight the sex wasn’t exactly what I’d call cute and cuddly. It was hate sex.

I glance toward the door, and my heart pumps out an extra beat. It would be like me to start to fall for a woman who’s ten years younger than me, my best friend’s little sister, and also hates my guts. Plus, she’s a student, and I’m after the chief position in the emergency department.

I can’t let this happen.

I’ve suffered enough disappointment and heartbreak to last me ten lifetimes.

But having sex with Wren didn’t knock her out of my system. It didn’t scratch that old, persistent itch. It didn’t close some odd curiosity or unfinished business. It’s only made me want her more, and I’m not sure what I should do about it, if anything. Maybe not anything.

I don’t know what I want from her. Just sex? Dating? Nothing?

The notion of dating Wren Fritz is laughable, especially when I haven’t wanted to date anyone in a very long time. And it’s fucking Wren. The girl gets under my skin and rubs it the wrong way. But it’s impossible to deny that Friday Alden and I ran into her at the bar, that I didn’t love putting my hand on the small of her back as she slid into the booth and watching every fucker who was looking at her think she was mine.

What I want and the reality of what we have are two different things. I’m better off putting tonight out of my head, chalking it up to whatever bullshit I can sell myself on, and leaving it at that. That’s the smart play.

Except the thought of never having her again… shit, I’m in trouble.

Without allowing myself to focus on that, because it’s an obvious shitstorm in the making, I set to work on her bracelet. The gold clasp is small and fragile, but I work the pliers carefully and manage to twist it back without snapping it. Feeling satisfied with that, I leave it on the counter and put my tools away. I get ready for bed and climb under the sheets, immediately turning toward her wall.

There are so many reasons why Wren Fritz makes no sense at all.

Still, I’m not sure those reasons are going to be enough to stop me anymore.

My fist raps on her door a shade harder than I intend. It’s early, and part of me is hoping she’s still asleep and doesn’t answer. I’m in my running clothes, and after a shitty night of sleep, I need a good, hard run so I don’t give my neighbor a good, hard fuck.

Just as I’m about to give up, a deep male voice I do not recognize asks, “Who is it?”

The fuck? Did she go out and bring someone else home?

Rage and jealousy light a fire in my stomach. “It’s Jack, her neighbor,” I bark, not even bothering to disguise my fury.

The door unlocks, and I’m greeted by… the tallest man I’ve ever seen. I’m a tall guy at six-five, but he’s got another few inches on me in addition to the sparkly red platform Converse heels sporting at seven in the morning. Holy crap. I know him.

“Jack!” he exclaims, reaching out his hand for mine. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m Tyson⁠—”

“Mayme. Yes, I know who you are.”

He played basketball for Boston and helped us to win two championships. He retired five or so years ago. He was also one of the first openly gay players.

“Yes. I live upstairs, right over your place.” He points at the ceiling.

I shake his hand and try not to wince at his strong grip. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you.”

He smirks and leans against the doorway, filling the entire thing up even as he casually folds his arms. “Wren is in the shower. I woke her up so she could make me maple pecan pancakes the way my nana used to. I swear, Wren’s are the closest I’ve had since Nana died.”

“Wren cooks?” I don’t know why this shocks me. Maybe because I’ve always thought of Wren as a rich, spoiled brat, and rich, spoiled brats have things like personal chefs or expensive catered meal plans.

Tyson laughs. “Wren is an amazing cook, but her baked goods are something else.” He gives me a once-over, sizing me up. “If you don’t know Wren all that well, why are you knocking on her door this early on a Saturday?”

“I’m actually her older brother’s best friend, so I do know her. Just not as well as I thought I did.” The truth of that hits me as hard as the text I never sent her last night.

“Mm-hmm, and that explains the barking jealousy I heard through the door when you thought she had a man here at this early hour?”

I smile. I like Tyson. He’s no bullshit. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I simply came to return a bracelet she left in my apartment last night before I leave for my run.”

I get another once-over, and I’m not sure he likes me back just yet.

“She left her bracelet in your apartment last night?”

I realize how that sounds, and it’s not good. “The clasp broke and must have fallen off. I found it and fixed it for her.”

“You fixed her bracelet that fell off her wrist and are returning it?”

“Why are you repeating everything I’m saying as a pointed question?”

“Oh, honey, I think you know why.”

With no real answer I intend to give, I reach into my pocket and retrieve Wren’s bracelet. “Here. Would you make sure she gets it?”

“Absolutely not.” He waves my hand away. “I’ll have Wren make my pancakes tomorrow. Wren?” he calls back into the apartment. “I’ve decided brunch tomorrow works better.”

“What?” Wren cries out from her bedroom. “Why? I’m almost ready.”

“Because our hot new neighbor is here to return the bracelet you left at his place last night. But you take your time getting ready, girl. It’s good to make a man wait.”

“Just take the bracelet and shut the door in his face,” Wren gripes, and I can’t help but chuckle.

Tyson turns back to me. “She doesn’t like you?”

I shake my head. “No, sir, she doesn’t.”

“Hmm.” He taps the toe of his sparkly shoe. “And you moved in next door to her?”

“It wasn’t intentional.”

“But you don’t hate her.”

It’s a statement and not a question, and I answer with yet more of the honesty I’ve come to dislike. “No, I don’t. Not anymore at least.”

“It seems you’ve got your work cut out for you. But something tells me you’re a man who doesn’t mind a little extra work when the situation calls for it.” He eyes the bracelet in my hand and walks past me into the hallway and up the stairs. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Jack. I’m positive I’ll see you around.”

“Bye, Tyson. Thanks for the help.”

He laughs at my sarcastic tone. “It’s what I’m here for. Now get your gorgeous ass inside that girl’s apartment and shut the damn door.”

With a shake of my head, I do as I’m told. I glance around Wren’s apartment, and a wry smile hits my lips. I think I expected it to resemble a palace or something, but as always, my Cinderella surprises me. Her furniture is nice with girly embellishments in deep purples, pinks, and pale blues, but it’s simple with a lot of clean lines and comfortable pieces. It looks like a Crate and Barrel showroom with a hint of student in the form of textbooks and notebooks, which I like.

A half second later, Wren rounds the corner wearing freaking tight-as-sin yoga pants, a cropped sweatshirt that reveals a solid two inches of smooth stomach, and her wet hair is tied up in a high ponytail showing off the creamy skin of her neck. I swear, the woman is the world’s biggest tease. Even as she scowls at me.

“You could have put it in an envelope and slipped it under the door.”

“Fresh out of envelopes, I’m afraid.” I take a step toward her, and she watches me warily. “Here.”

She grabs the bracelet from my hand and runs it through her fingers the same way I did last night. “Thank you.”

“That was tough, wasn’t it?”

She tries to hide her smirk. “Impossible. You can go now.”

I ignore that. “Aren’t you going to put it back on?”

“The clasp is broken. It’s been breaking for a while, so I’m not surprised it fell off.”

“I fixed it. It should close without an issue.”

Her lips part in shock, and her eyebrows take a nosedive. She holds it up, examining the clasp. “You fixed it? Why?”

I’m not even going to dignify that with a response. The woman really does think I’m an asshole. And because of that, I should walk out of here and never look back. That’s what the self-preservation, how many times can you have your gut kicked in, side of me is telling me to do. Yet something about this woman makes me a masochist. A man who simply can’t help himself and keeps coming back for more.

Plus, I think we’ve both been misjudging each other. I’m not a total asshole, and she’s not as spoiled and bratty as I thought.

“Can we talk about last night?”

She arranges the bracelet on her wrist and then levels me with a perturbed glare. “What’s there to say? Last night was a mistake—one that can’t ever happen again.”

“Why was it a mistake?”

She puffs an annoyed breath. “I was angry about you texting me and hiding that it was you. Something I’m still angry about. We got carried away.”

“We do that. I do that. So again, why was it a mistake?”

“Why are you arguing with me on this? I figured you’d agree.”

Another step, and now she’s backing up toward the wall. That works for me, so I continue my advance. “I never agree with you, why would I start now?” I stand in front of her, but I don’t touch her.

Her arms cross over her chest. “You mean other than the fact that you’re old, a crappy lay, and ugly?”

I chuckle. “Maybe try sticking to the facts if you want to sell this to me.”

“You’re my neighbor, my brother’s best friend, and my boss. Do you need more of a reason why this can’t happen than that?”

“Temporary boss,” I correct. “Continue.”

“If I match at MGH, it won’t be temporary, and I want a level I trauma center for both adults and pediatrics.”

My gut twists, and my body goes still. “You’re trying to match in the ER? At MGH?”

“Yes to both of those. It’s my first choice. Tufts and BMC are on that list too.”

I didn’t know she wanted emergency medicine as her specialty, and I didn’t think she’d want to match at MGH since her parents, half her family, and I work there. Especially that last one. I can’t escape her. If she matches there, which she will because she’s Wren Fritz, I’ll not only have to see her and endure her at work but also live next to her. She’ll be everywhere, all the time.

“I’m applying for chief.” I can’t help the note of dismay that hits my voice.

“I know.” She tilts her head, eyeing me as if I’m finally starting to put it all together. “That’s why you know this can’t happen.” She shakes her head. “What are you even asking for from me?”

I don’t know. What am I asking for? More of her. I guess I just wanted more of her, but now…

“You’re right. It can’t happen.” A sharp note of disappointment slithers through me, but if I didn’t know it before, I sure as hell do now. I won’t risk my career. I can’t. I’m not a billionaire. I don’t have backup plans. Hell, the ER is already my backup plan, and scandalous affairs with students have a way of following you around—and getting you fired.

I stare down at her as my hand moves to her hip, causing her attention to follow. She watches as I drag my thumb over that top patch of visible skin up to her waist. I didn’t come here for this, but knowing I can’t ever have her again, that last really was the last time…

“One last time, and then we’re done. It won’t happen again after this.”

“I really hate you,” she hisses, and her eyes close as my hand continues to wander up under her shirt, stopping just beneath her breasts. “I don’t like you touching me.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I think you do. Because your breathing is shallow, and your skin is covered in goose bumps. Your nipples are also piercing through your sweatshirt, and I bet if I used my other hand and slid it into your yoga pants, I’d find your pussy soaking wet for me.” I lean in toward her ear, and my hand continues up and covers her breast. She bites into the corner of her lip, working to stifle a moan. “Were you tossing and turning, thinking about it all night? Replaying it in your head and shoving your pillow between your thighs to ebb the tension and ache you felt there? I know you didn’t use one of your pretty toys. You’re too stubborn to give in to that.”

My hand moves to her other breast, and I palm and knead it over her lacy bra. A shaky breath pants past her lungs. She refuses to open her eyes, but she’s not stopping me, despite the half-assed argument she’s attempting to make.

“Stop talking. Just shut up.”

I place a soft, wet kiss directly beneath her ear, and she whimpers, biting deeper into that lip. “I don’t regret last night.” I bring my hand back to her waist. “I like what we did, and I want to do it again. Harder this time. Rougher. If this is truly the last time we do this, then I don’t want to hold back, and I think we need a safe word.”

Her eyes flash open. “Safe word?”

“I know you know what that is. It’s in your books, and since those were the ones you suggested, it tells me you’re curious about playing a bit rougher.”

She shakes her head as if to deny it but can’t form the lie with her words.

“Give me a word, Wren. You say you hate me, and you keep telling me to stop, but your body and actions are saying something different. And I want to do things to you. Dirty, depraved, kinky as all fuck things.”

“Asshole.”

I smirk. “You call me that too often, sweetheart. It has no meaning, and it certainly won’t stop me.” I pinch her nipple. Hard.

She gasps out, “Chocolate.”

I grin against her skin before my tongue sneaks a taste. “Chocolate,” I repeat. “If you say chocolate, I stop.”

“This is the last time we’re doing this. I mean it. It’s a bad idea.”

I lick the shell of her ear. “I agree. I want to make you come now. On my fingers first. With your eyes on me.”

“No.”

I bite her lip and drag it with my teeth. “Yes. Because you’re so beautiful when you’re turned on, but otherworldly gorgeous when you come, and I want you to watch me watch you.” I return to her tits and start to tug and play with her nipples before I pull away completely and stand to my full height. “You have your safe word. Now let’s see if I can make you use it.”