The Spark Between Us by Stacy Travis

Chapter Twelve

Braden

The feelingsof guilt over leaving Sarah in the bike shop disappeared when my doorbell rang. I opened the door to find Kelsey standing on my doorstep in tight black jeans, a purple tank top, and no bra.

To be clear, the only reason she didn’t need a bra was that she was twenty-two and her C-cup breasts still defied gravity in a way that normally made my dick hard just thinking about them. And now they were pressed to my chest as she brushed her lips against my cheek.

Kelsey’s long, dark hair curled into waves around her face, and mascara made her brown eyes look even darker than usual. “Hi, hon,” she said, sweeping past me with a bottle of pink wine in her hand. That was how she referred to it, “I’ll take a glass of the pink.”

She’d come over before each of our dates. “It’s a thing. I like to meet at the man’s house for safety reasons.” Her cooing voice had sounded a little young, probably too young. Then, after a couple glasses of pink wine and a nice dinner, we’d gone back to her house where I enjoyed her young tits and young everything else.

I’d taken Kelsey to dinner three times. Three dinners that had led to fairly hot sex in her living room, two orgasms each for her, and a goodbye fuck against her front door before agreeing to see each other in a week or so.

It wasn’t love, and it was never going to be love, but it was evolving into the perfect situation.

“Hey, hon,” she hollered, and I realized I was still lingering by the front door. She’d called me ‘hon’ on our first date, which told me the nickname didn’t mean much to her. That was fine. I’d stopped using any sort of endearments because I could never match the feelings that I thought should accompany them.

Except for calling Sarah ‘Damsel.’ I just couldn’t break myself of that one.

“Sorry. Spaced out. I didn’t get much sleep last night.” I walked over to where she was rifling through my kitchen drawers looking for a corkscrew, even though she’d done the same thing twice before. “Listen, we should head out,” I told her, not wanting an awkward encounter with Sarah when she got back from the bike shop.

Kelsey ignored me, and each time she opened a drawer and slammed it again, her breasts jiggled inside her tank top. Normally, that would be enough to have me hard. Instead, I found myself slightly annoyed that she was so clueless about where I’d keep utensils.

Quit thinking.

Kelsey was exactly what I needed—no complications, no heavy conversation about the future, no misunderstandings about spending the night together.

I took her hand, intending to walk her toward the front door. But she pressed into me, rubbing her hand over my cheek.

“I’m sorry you’re tired.” She moved her hand down to my chest, where her fingers edged lower until her acrylic nails teased my abs, and she dipped them into the waistband of my jeans. “I’ll make sure you don’t have trouble sleeping tonight.”

I breathed in her slightly cloying flowery perfume and tried not to compare the bottled ordinary scent to Sarah’s fresh citrus and flowers—every time she walked by, I had visions of a summer garden.

“Deal.” I needed Kelsey to wear me out. I needed to drive into her so hard that I forced distracting thoughts about my goddamned roommate to the sidelines. It made no sense that Sarah entered my thoughts at all. She was a temporary guest, end of story.

If I needed a reason why she and I made zero sense, all I had to do was look at her, feel her goodness, listen to her brilliance. My relationship with Ellie taught me that women like that might have firefighter fantasies, but when those wear thin, they walk away.

Kelsey wouldn’t do that. She loved whatever I could give her.

And yet . . . even with Kelsey’s fingers massaging their way into my pants, I was distracted. It felt suddenly wrong to have her stripping my clothes off within the first five minutes of seeing me.

It felt . . . empty.

I grabbed Kelsey’s wrists and extracted her hands before she could wrap them around my dick. “Dinner first? Play later?”

She pouted and turned her upside-down smile to me before kissing me on the lips. Her mouth was soft and willing, and she succeeded at shifting my focus completely to her. “As long as it’s not too much later.”

Kelsey was sweet. And so willing. I didn’t know what the hell my problem was. I had no excuse for not enjoying my night out with her, starting right now. So I leaned in for one kiss, telling myself to enjoy the taste of her and the escape from the rest of my life. I closed my eyes and concentrated on feeling instead of thinking.

Which was maybe why I didn’t hear my front door when it opened. But I heard Kelsey shriek a few seconds later. “What the hell?” She clung to me possessively, and it took me a moment to adjust my vision and figure out what had her so distressed. Then I followed her gaze to where Sarah stood a few feet away, a grocery bag and a bottle of wine in her hands.

“Oh. I’m so sorry.” Sarah looked frozen, staring at us with aqua blue eyes that were wide with surprise and embarrassment. I quickly looked down to make sure no errant naked parts were exposed. Kelsey didn’t move her hands from around my neck and had trouble freeing the garble of words that had collided in my throat.

“No, don’t even . . . we were just . . .” What in the hell was I saying? I leaned my forehead against Kelsey’s and pointed. “Roommate. Sorry, Kel . . . Sarah, I should have . . .”

Sarah waved her hands dismissively. “No, it’s me. You said you had plans, I just didn’t . . . never mind. I just came for a corkscrew.” Her eyes darted past us and around the kitchen. If I’d been able to form words, I’d have told her where it was, but in a second, she’d opened the correct drawer and found the corkscrew.

“Gosh, I was just looking for that.” Kelsey’s voice was breathy.

A moment later, Sarah was gone in a blur of pink cheeks, honey hair, and the dizzying scent of lemon and flowers.

“Well, that could’ve been awkward,” Kelsey snorted. “Good thing she didn’t come home five minutes later when I had your cock in my mouth.”

I shook my head, still having trouble forming words. There was no logical reason for me not to leap at the chance to have Kelsey’s pretty lips all over any body part that interested her.

And yet . . . I couldn’t get on board.

“Sorry about that.” I finally found my voice and it came out in a croak. I needed water,

Kelsey shrugged, arms still wrapped around my neck. “I recall exactly where we were.” She pressed herself against me again. Within seconds, her lips were on mine and my whole body went rigid. My thoughts returned to Sarah. I felt like I owed her an apology.

“Hon, you need to relax. Here let me help.” Kelsey started again for my belt buckle, and I grabbed her hands to stop her.

“How about we pick this up after dinner? Maybe some Italian food, then back to your place?”

Kelsey smiled. “I like that idea.”

I guided her down the driveway toward my car. She stood for a moment by the passenger door as I looked back at the house. I heard Kelsey’s irritated huff as she opened the door herself and climbed in.

“Oh, shit.” I’d left Bella outside because Kelsey didn’t like dogs. I quickly texted Sarah and asked her to bring my dog inside, grateful that Bella liked her so much.

She wasn’t the only one. And that was rapidly becoming a problem.

* * *

Dinner was fine.I ate a plate of spaghetti with clams and a few bites of salad. Ordinarily, it was one of my favorite meals. Tonight, it tasted off.

Everything was off.

Kelsey told me a story about her downstairs neighbor, who was taking singing lessons and not learning very well. “She told me she wants to try out for ‘The Voice’ or something, and I didn’t want to say anything, but hon, that’s never gonna happen.” She laughed and I gave her a strained smile.

“Maybe she’ll get better after a while,” I mumbled, pushing the pasta around on my plate. I didn’t feel hungry. Kelsey shrugged and smiled at me the way she always did, and I tried to remember what we’d talked about on the last three dates because this felt like a struggle.

It was me. I had no doubt about it.

Kelsey sipped her wine and leaned forward, giving me a view of her ample cleavage and batting her lashes. Then she leaned in to kiss me. Her lips tasted like the garlicky pesto sauce from her penne, and I felt her nails skate along the back of my neck as she rubbed her nose along my jaw.

Kelsey had no problem with PDA. I knew this from our last dinner, but that had been at a dark corner table in a brew pub. Really dark.

This was an upscale Italian place in Pleasanton. I knew people here, and I hoped to return with my dignity intact, so I put the brakes on before Kelsey decided to straddle me.

Our chairs were on adjacent sides of a small square table with a white cloth and a candle in the middle. She had her hand on my thigh and was making circles with her nails, working her way up my leg, staring into my eyes, and letting me know unequivocally what she wanted.

I should have wanted it too.

“You okay, hon?” she asked.

I felt like an asshole. “Yeah, sorry. Spacing out again. So, you were telling me about your neighbor’s singing?”

“Yeah, I was . . .” She shrugged and moved her hand to my chest, massaging circles there. “There isn’t that much more to tell.” She looked down at our plates and swallowed down the last of her wine. “I’m pretty good to go here if you want to go back to my place. Maybe my neighbor will serenade us.”

I wanted to want to go to her place. I tried to find enthusiasm for the plan. But even a guarantee that I’d get laid in the next thirty minutes didn’t sound like an enticing option.

“You know what, I’m not at my best tonight. I apologize, Kelsey. You deserve a better date than me.”

“Aw, hon, don’t apologize. It happens. Life gets in the way sometimes.” She took out her lipstick and dabbed a deep pink shade on her lips before rubbing them together. Then she took out her phone and started scrolling. I wondered if she was getting ready to find another man who might be more accommodating than me. The thought filled me with relief.

I felt terrible about disappointing her, but I could tell things were only going in one direction if I went back to her house. I’d either freeze up and not be able to get the job done, or I’d have sex with her and end up feeling like I’d used her, which was infinitely worse.

So I paid the check and drove her home. After walking her to her door and turning down her last-ditch offer to come inside, I left. I couldn’t believe myself. I’d dated dozens of women, and never had there been an instance when I couldn’t close.

Your dick has died. That’s the only explanation.

There was another possible explanation, and I hated to think it involved the woman living in my house. I’d pushed thoughts of Sarah away for two solid weeks, and each day it got more difficult. I knew I couldn’t date her, not if I wanted to emerge from our roommate situation with my heart intact, but I was beginning to realize that just knowing Sarah was making it impossible to date anyone else.