White Lilies (A Mitchell Sisters Novel) (7 page)

“Sorry,” she huffs in frustration. “I seem to have butterfingers today.” She shrugs, getting her credit card out awkwardly with her non-dominant left hand as she fists and releases her right one over and over.

“You okay?” I ask.

“I’m fine, Skylar. My hand just fell asleep.” She gives the clerk her card. “I can’t wait to see you in these again. You are going to be the hottest pregnant lady in the city.”

I decide not to argue the fact that me looking hot is
so
not the point of this whole surrogacy exercise. But if she wants to live vicariously through me, who am I to stop her?

chapter six

Sunday afternoon, my doorbell rings and I look through the peephole to see a man holding a basket. Another care package from Erin, I imagine.

I thank the young guy who doesn’t stop grinning at me as he hands over the basket covered with dark-blue cellophane, completely hiding the contents.

I sit down on my couch and carefully remove the covering. My eyes bug out when I see what’s inside. It’s filled with sex toys. Vibrators of various sizes, a pocket-rocket, some egg-shaped thing, tubes of lubricant, and a few unknowns with names like ‘Rampant Rabbit’ and ‘Vibrating Bullet,’ that I’ll have to read about to figure out exactly what they are. God, just looking at the stuff makes me horny.

I laugh when I remember the comment I made to Erin about breaking my vibrator. She really does like taking care of me.

Guilt washes over me. If she only knew who I’ll most likely fantasize about when using these products, she not only wouldn’t have sent them, she would probably cut me out of her life, only sticking around to get the bean.

Maybe I could think about the bike delivery guy. Or the guy who delivered this—he was hot, too. Oh,
duh
, no wonder he had a grin plastered on his face. I’ll bet he knew exactly what was in the package.

We have a new waiter at work, Jarod. He’s only nineteen. Brown hair, strong dark eyes, a body built for sex. I should dream about
him
. Hell, even Trent, one of my bartenders, could provoke a pretty decent sex fantasy.

As I try to make a list of all the men who should replace Griffin in my fantasies, my phone rings, causing me to startle and drop the G-spot wand I was holding.

“Did you get it?” Erin squeals into the phone.

My lips twitch in amusement. “If you tell anyone about this, I will kill you and hide the body.”

She laughs. “Oh, good. You got it, then. I didn’t want you to be so . . . frustrated.”

“I don’t even know what half this stuff is,” I say.
Oh my God, does she?
“Do you?”

“Let’s just say yours is not the first basket I’ve ordered from that particular store.”

All of a sudden I’m having thoughts of the prudish school teacher coming home to her leather-chaps-wearing husband, who holds a whip while commanding her to perform sexual acts in front of him.

I hear a giggle. “You are totally picturing me and Griffin using that stuff, aren’t you?”

“No. Absolutely not,” I lie. “Oh, God, Erin. Griffin doesn’t know about this, does he?”

“Why, would it embarrass you to know that Griffin might think about you using those things?”

“Erin, shut up,” I say. “First off, yes, I’d be mortified. Secondly, he would never do that. I don’t know why you keep saying such things. Do you get off on your husband lusting after other women?” I tease. “Oh, shit, you don’t want to like, have a three-way, do you?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “Would you be interested if we did?”

What the hell? I was kidding. She knows that, right?

It’s always the most innocent looking people who turn out to be the most perverted. Still, there is no way I’ve known Erin for over five months without becoming privy to this information.

“I’m kidding, Skylar.” She’s laughing. Hard. “Oh, how I wish I could see your face right now,” she says. “Listen, I’ll let you go. I know you have a busy day ahead. Or at least you do now.” She giggles. “But, hey, don’t forget to wear the dress tomorrow.”

“What is it with you and that dress?” I ask.

“I just think you look really pretty in it, Skylar. Pregnant women need to feel pretty, too, you know?”

“Yes, Mom, I’ll wear the dress,” I say rolling my eyes.

We say our goodbyes and I’m left thinking about how much she’s changed over the past few weeks. She’s different. She’s more open. Forward. Demanding. I’ve even heard her cuss a few times, something I thought she wasn’t even capable of. Whenever we get together, she wants to try new things. Last week, Griffin was working and she invited me to go on a carriage ride through Central Park. She said she had never done it before and wanted to treat me to the experience. Then she wanted to try sushi, something neither of us had ever tried, but that I got out of on account of being pregnant, and thus not allowed to eat raw fish. I figure she’s either getting more comfortable in our friendship or she’s wanting to cross a few things off her pre-baby bucket list.

Mindy walks out of her bedroom. She stares down at the contents of my gift basket, her eyes going wide as she takes it all in. We spend the next hour giggling while we read through the instructions of some of the more complicated battery-operated products.

Mindy leaves for work a few hours later. “Girlfriend, I don’t even have to ask what you plan on doing tonight.” She winks. “Just try not to wake the neighbors.”

~ ~ ~

I put the basket in my room and try to forget about it. I catch up on some episodes of ‘Top Chef’. I clean the kitchen. I ride part of the Appalachian Trail on my new bike. I do everything I can think of to keep my mind off the toys that keep beckoning me.

I call Baylor.

“What’s up, little sister? Miss me already?” she asks, having just seen me this morning at Sunday brunch.

“Uh, so does pregnancy make everyone completely horny, or is it just me?”

“Don’t get me started.” She laughs. “Gavin actually said he thought I was going to break his penis a few months ago. I’m thirty-five weeks along with a ginormous belly and still, all I can think about is sex.”

“Ugh!” I sigh. “So, it doesn’t get any better?”

“It’s different for everyone,” she says. “Some of the women in my Lamaze class claim they don’t even want to be touched anymore. Some of them never went through the horny phase at all. Consider yourself lucky, Skylar.”

“Lucky?” I spit out. “Baylor, I’m trying to stay away from sex, not think about it more. And I’m having very inappropriate thoughts about very inappropriate people.”

“You’re not masturbating to Gavin, are you?” She giggles. “Although I suppose it would be a nice compliment.”

“God, no! Of course not.” The thought of me getting off to her husband makes me vomit a little in my mouth.

“Well, then who is it?” she asks. “Wait. Let me guess. Trent, the bartender.”

“I wish,” I say.

“John, the liquor distributor.”

I didn’t think about him. I add him to the list. “God, that tight shirt he always wears,” I say, trying, but failing, to get myself hot and bothered over him. “But, no. It’s nobody, really. Forget it.”

“Hmmm,” she mumbles in thought. “Griffin’s pretty hot.”

I try not to blow out my deep sigh into the phone.

“Oh my God, it’s Griffin, isn’t it?” she shrieks. “You’re fantasizing about the baby daddy, aren’t you?”

“Ugh! I have to go.”

“Skylar,” she says, stopping me from hanging up. “It’s okay, you know. It’s okay to fantasize about him, or anyone, as long as you don’t act on it.”

“I would never—”

“I know you wouldn’t,” she says. “And that’s why it’s okay.”

I hang up the phone and go to bed, never having played with any of my new toys. And even though Baylor thinks it’s okay, I try my damnedest not to think about Griffin Pearce.

~ ~ ~

The doorbell rings. Once. Twice. On the third ring, realizing Mindy isn’t going to answer it, I crawl out of bed half asleep and stumble my way across my dark apartment to open the door. I’m too tired to bother looking through the peephole. I open it.

“Did you get the basket?”

My eyes snap up to see those familiar slate-gray eyes that are even darker than I remember. Except now they are lidded with desire.

“She told you?” Embarrassment causes even my fingers to pink up. How is it that this man can get me to blush? After twenty-four years, I thought it wasn’t possible. And it isn’t. Except with him.

Cold air creeps in through the open door. It makes me realize I’m only wearing my sleep shirt that barely covers my ass cheeks. Griffin notices, too.

His unblinking gaze rakes over my bare legs. I can feel his eyes on my flesh as they wash over me, prickling my skin with heat everywhere he looks. He caresses me with his stare and I’m just sleepy enough to let him. His eyes grow wide when they fall on my chest, my nipples pebbling under the thin material of my shirt.

His reaction, however wrong, makes me hot. My libido—that is set to a constant simmer these days—is instantly taken up to a full-on boil simply by the heat of his stare.

“She didn’t tell me anything,” he says, his voice dripping with lust and need. “I’m the one who sent it.”

I shake my head in confusion. “You?”
Was I dreaming earlier when Erin called me?

“Yes, me.” He comes through the front door, uninvited, and closes it behind him. “I’ve seen the way you look at me. I’ve seen the fire in you. I know you’re horny. I don’t want you with other men. I got you these things so you don’t need anyone else.”

“Then why are you here?” I ask.

“Because.” He grabs my hand, pulling me across the room. “They would deliver it, but they wouldn’t set them up.” He gently pushes me down on the couch. “I’m here to help you with that.”

“Uh . . .” My mind races.
Is this some kind of joke?
I reach for the blanket to cover myself up, but he grabs it.

“No.” He throws it on the floor behind him. “I’m not here to watch you cover up, Sky. It’s quite the opposite.”

He walks into my bedroom, leaving me in a pool of unanswered questions on the couch. He called me Sky. He’s here to help me with the sex toys. I’m trying to wrap my brain around it when he comes back in the room with the basket.

Shirtless.

Oh, God.

He kneels before me, putting the basket beside him. “We’ll get to those later. The first one is all mine.”

Before I can ask him what first one, he parts my legs and stares at my crotch. He smiles a half smile. A crooked, sexy smile that has my brain shutting down and ignoring all the reasons flying through my head that assure me how wrong this is.

Maybe this was part of the package, I surmise. Maybe Erin sent him to me. She said he looks at me. She said he would think about me using the things in the basket. Wait, no, she didn’t send them—
he did
.

Desire blurs my vision as well as my judgment. I can do this. We can do this and not ruin everything. It’s just one time. One little act. It doesn’t have to mean anything.

My body trembles and I look down to see Griffin touching me there, through my wet panties.

He holds up the lubricant with his other hand. “We won’t be needing this,” he says. “You’re so wet, Sky. You want this.”

“No. We can’t.” My weak words are a direct contradiction of what my body is telling him.

“She wants this, baby. It’s okay,” he says, moving my soaked panties aside, slipping a long finger inside of me.

She wants this.
Who, Erin? Maybe they’re not who I thought they were, after all. Maybe they want to pull me into some sort of polygamous relationship.

Griffin adds another finger, crooking them up to find the precise spot that has me throwing my head back, not caring who is doing what to me as long as it results in me coming all over, satiating this carnal need building inside me.

“That’s it, Sky, ride my fingers. Just like that.” He lowers his head, showing me what he intends to do. “I’m going to taste you now. I’m going to make you come over and over. First with my tongue and then with every single thing in the basket.”

Before I can protest, his tongue laves me.
Oh. My. God
. He’s only been at this for thirty seconds and all I can think of is that Erin was right. He’s got fucking talent.

My thighs tighten. Heat burns through my belly. A wave comes crashing over me. I buck my groin into him, pushing his fingers deeper, drawing out every last quiver of my orgasm.

“Griffin . . . Oh, God. Yes!” I cry out. My eyes fly open and even before the spasms die down, guilt washes over me. I look down at Griffin only to find him gone, replaced by my own fingers that are still caressing my center, heavily coated with my juices.

I quickly look around to see I’m in my bed. And I’m completely alone. My head falls back against my pillow.

Thank God!

A dream. That’s all it was. Another fantasy about the man who is forbidden.

An unexpected sob causes tears to spill over the rims of my eyelids, the salty liquid rolling down the sides of my head and into my hair. I’m just not sure if they are guilty tears, or if I’m mourning the loss of a man I can never have.

chapter seven

Erin has incredible fashion sense. I have to admit, the dress looks damn good on me. Even the extra material at the waist looks intentional. My newfound cleavage is the clear purpose of this dress, and like Erin said, why not flaunt it while I’ve got it.

I do feel pretty, which is welcome considering yesterday—only one day after I was proud that all my jeans still fit—I had trouble buttoning up my favorite pair.

I decide to put my hair in a French twist and add a little more mascara than I usually do. I even have the perfect green wedges to pair with the dress. The whole look has me feeling new and fresh. I’ll have to remember to thank Erin again later.