Hilariously Ever After

by Penny Reid

  “We should’ve had sex earlier,” Aria said, her voice slightly slurred, her thoughts blurring.

  “What?”

  “I mean, more sex. With sweat. And skin. On skin…” Had he turned off the lamp? Everything seemed so much darker, all of a sudden. “Can we do it tomorrow?”

  Even as sleep dragged her under, she recognised the feather-light touch of his fingers against her cheek. “Ask me in the morning, Ri.”

  “You know I won’t ask you in the morning,” she grumbled.

  “Yeah,” he sighed. “I know.”

  Chapter 13

  “Help me,” Aria groaned. “I’m dying.”

  Nik’s soft laugh, while sexy as ever, was not welcome. It was irritating, in fact. Doubly irritating because, even with her head pounding and her stomach sloshing around like an ocean, it still sent a tingle along her spine.

  “You’re not dying, chrysí mou.”

  “I know,” she gritted out. “It’s hyperbole. For dramatic effect.” She winced. Ouch. A bit too much emphasis, there.

  “Shh.” His hand settled against her back, a comforting weight that kept her anchored. She’d been lying in bed feeling as if the room was spinning, but that hand made things a little bit steadier. “I got you some water. And aspirin.”

  It was a lovely sentiment, and she was thirsty as a motherfucker, but sitting up felt like a very bad idea right now. “In a minute,” she mumbled.

  “Come here.” The hand on her back became an arm around her waist, easing her gently but firmly into a sort of… sideways lounge. Oh, that wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t sitting up, at least. Aria cushioned her aching head with one hand and risked opening an eye, squinting up toward the sound of Nik’s voice.

  The room wasn’t painfully bright, thank God. He’d kept the curtains shut, so enough sunlight seeped in to illuminate the room, but not enough to make her headache worse. He was sitting beside her at the edge of the bed, freshly showered and despicably attractive. And even though she must have looked pathetic, at best, there was a heat in his gaze that made her head spin.

  Which wasn’t great, since her head had already been spinning. In the opposite direction.

  His expression changed so fast, she wondered if she’d been imagining things. Now, he looked relaxed and slightly amused, as always, the cocky playboy to a T. Still, she didn’t think cocky playboys brought their fake girlfriends precious, precious aspirin after a night of too much drinking.

  “Here you go.” He held out the pills and watched as she swallowed them dry, his brows raised. “That was… impressive, or maybe terrifying. I’m not sure.”

  She huffed out a laugh, then instantly regretted it as pain shot through her head. “Habit.”

  “A habit you learned by…”

  She took the water he held and downed it before answering. “By taking lots of drugs, sweetheart.”

  “Oh.” His lips twitched with amusement. “You must think I’m very boring.”

  “Because you never popped questionable pills in filthy bathrooms so your parents would pay attention to you? No, Nik. I don’t think you’re boring.” To be honest, she’d rarely met anyone she found so entertaining. She could be locked in a room with nothing but him and the bloody Yellow Pages for twenty-four hours, and they’d have a cracking good time.

  Even if they kept their clothes on.

  He took her empty glass of water and produced another like some kind of hydration fairy. “I think we should stay in tonight.”

  “No. Noooo. You’re not missing out on your friends’ weird hedonist explosion, not on my account.”

  He combed through her tangled hair with his fingers as he replied. “I’m in charge, Ri.”

  “You’re a pain in the arse, is what you are.”

  “Never. I always take it slow.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead and the surprise of that unnecessary affection was almost enough to make her miss what he’d said. “I’m going to make breakfast,” he told her, standing up.

  He’d reached the door before her kiss-addled brain lurched back into action. “You’re—you—stop making dirty jokes!” Okay, maybe her brain wasn’t quite at full capacity just yet, but whatever.

  He paused in the doorway. “Do you mean that?”

  Well, she wished he hadn’t asked. She wished he’d just… assumed. Or ignored her. Because now she had to think about it, and realise that she didn’t, and explicitly say, “No. No, I don’t mean that.”

  At which point, he gave her a knowing glance over his shoulder. “Thought not.”

  She threw a pillow at him as he left. The action probably hurt her head more than it hurt his retreating back, but really, it was the thought that counted.

  By the time Aria felt human again, the rest of the household was getting ready for the night’s events. Nik brought her a bagel covered in chocolate spread—because she still hadn’t gotten out of bed yet—and said, “Georgia sends her love.”

  “That woman is trying to make me fatter,” Aria grumbled as she ripped into the bread.

  “If you’re waiting for me to complain, you’ll be disappointed.” Nik settled onto the bed beside her and picked up half of the bagel before she could stop him. “Thanks.”

  “For what, you thief? Didn’t I warn you about stealing my food?”

  “That was before,” he grinned, humour glinting in his eyes. “This is now.”

  “What on earth is the difference between then and now?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to take them back. There were a hell of a lot of answers he could give to that question.

  But all he said was, “You like me now.”

  “I liked you then,” she admitted, “for reasons that escape me.”

  “Yeah?” His head rested on a pillow beside her crossed legs. He bit lightly at her knee, just the barest scrape of teeth, but it still sent a thrill straight to the place between her thighs. The place that suddenly felt more like a space, conspicuously empty, needing to be filled.

  For God’s sake. Was that all it took her get her going, now?

  “Things have changed between us since we met,” he said, looking up at her. His eyes were like honey in the sunlight streaming through the window, golden-brown and sticky-sweet enough to trap her. “So, if you liked me then, how do you feel now?”

  Aria bit her lip. Something was dragging her gaze, like a magnet, toward the place at the foot of the bed where he’d bent her over—but she wouldn’t give in to that pull. Because if she did, he’d see, and he’d know exactly what she was thinking.

  Instead, she said honestly, “I really like you now.”

  “So, once this is over,” he said, “and you go home to start the best tattoo shop in Europe—”

  She laughed, and his teasing smile widened.

  “In the world, actually,” he corrected. “Once that happens… you won’t be done with me.” It didn’t sound like a question, the way he said it. And that cocky grin on his face, that solid confidence in his tone, didn’t suggest any kind of uncertainty.

  But she must not be fully recovered from last night, because she imagined she saw uncertainty anyway. Imagined she heard it. Imagined she felt it. “Are you asking if we’re friends? Real friends?”

  “Yeah,” he said softly.

  Aria ran her tongue over her lip ring. “I’d like us to be. I don’t want to never see you again.” Actually, just the thought made her feel sick. Or maybe that was the chocolate bagel she was currently scarfing down? Must be. Still, the prospect of him disappearing was… unpleasant.

  “I feel the same way,” he said, looking up at the ceiling. “Do you want to hear a funny story?”

  She chuckled nervously at the abrupt change in subject. “Um… okay?”

  “A few years back, I met this girl—French girl. I don’t speak French. But she was a huge Colston City fan, so she sat on my lap at a party and…” He shrugged. “You know. At this point, I was living with Kieran. So, the next morning, she leaves my room to get a drink. Half
an hour passes and she’s nowhere to be found. I get up, go looking for her… and she’s still in the kitchen, talking to Kieran. He speaks French. Anyway, I knew he was going to be precious about it, so I pulled him aside and told him he should ask her out. He refused, because of some weird friendship code, so I asked her out for him. And—”

  “Is this your weird way of telling me you slept with Laurie?” Aria interrupted.

  He flashed her a sheepish smile. “Yeah. Yes, it is.”

  She chewed on the last bite of her bagel, then snatched the other half from his grip. He’d barely eaten it, anyway. “Okay.”

  Was that relief on his face? Maybe, but it was quickly replaced by grim determination. “Here’s another funny story.”

  “Oh, Christ.” Despite herself, Aria felt a grin creep onto her face. “Go on, then.”

  “So, you know Varo’s my best friend, right? And he fell in love with G at first sight. They’re a forever kind of thing. But Georgia’s into threesomes, and—”

  “You cannot be serious right now.”

  He spoke faster, ignoring her spluttering. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was nervous. “Georgia’s into threesomes and Varo is too, but he’s protective. Plus, he’s not out. In fact, I think he considers himself straight. Which means they can’t just fuck anyone—”

  “So, you, being the best friend on earth, volunteered as tribute?”

  “That’s it,” he said. “That’s literally it. That’s all. I like them, they like me, sometimes we fuck.”

  Through the haze of her shock and amusement—and, yeah, jealousy—Aria realised that Nik had lost his usual grin. His words sounded kind of… edgy? Urgent. As if it was important that she believe him, that she understand.

  She felt something light and airy surround her heart, even as a slow smile spread over her face. “Nik why are you telling me this?”

  He blinked up at her as if the answer was obvious. “Well. I thought you’d like to know. Because…”

  When that word trailed off, a thousand potential endings to his sentence filled her mind. All things considered, one seemed more likely than others.

  “Because you’re trying to get in my pants,” she said. “For real.”

  “I already got in your pants. Wait, sorry—is that disrespectful? I’m just saying. I mean, I’m just pointing out the fact that I—”

  She peered at him closely as he actually stammered. Nik Christou was lying beside her, cheeks flushed, fumbling for words as if he were a normal human being instead of a millionaire pro football player who could cosplay Adonis with nothing but a gold laurel.

  Aria set the rest of her bagel aside and put a hand over his mouth.

  He stopped talking. Then he flicked out his tongue and traced a line over her palm, eyes dancing with mischief.

  “You are absolutely impossible,” she told him sternly.

  He replied with something she couldn’t interpret, since her hand was still covering his mouth.

  “I thought you weren’t doing the casual sex thing anymore?”

  Apparently, he wasn’t prepared to answer that with a mumble, because he tugged her hand gently away. Eyes burning into hers, he said, “I don’t want casual.”

  Well, smack her on the backside and call her Marianne. “Um… right… so what you want is…?”

  “Un-casual. What’s the opposite of casual? I want you intensely. I want you formally? I want—”

  “Committed,” she finished, her voice flat. “The opposite of casual is committed.”

  He studied her for a moment, his gaze sharp, considering. She waited for his inevitable recoil, or maybe some hysterical laughter. It didn’t come.

  Instead, he said, “Tell me about your ex-husband.”

  It was an odd request, but she was prepared to go there if it meant a reprieve from this conversation. A reprieve from the tension of knowing that he couldn’t want commitment and she definitely shouldn’t.

  “His name was Matt. We went to school together. He spent years calling me fat and ugly. Then we turned sixteen, and I don’t know what changed, exactly, but all of a sudden, he was into fat and ugly. And I…” she rolled her eyes. “I was pathetic. Trying really, really hard not to be, but I hadn’t quite gotten the hang of that whole ‘backbone’ thing just yet. I thought being with him would mean… winning? Showing everyone who ever laughed at me? I don’t know. We were together for years, and I guess we were in love. He never bullied me again, at least. He treated me okay. We ran off at eighteen to be roadies—he was a musician, you see, and he didn’t want to be without me. I just wanted to escape my parents.”

  No, that wasn’t true. Aria forced herself to meet Nik’s gaze, ignoring the tempest of emotions in his eyes. The sympathy, the tightly contained anger, and something else she couldn’t bring herself to focus on. “Actually, I thought it was romantic that he wanted me around. I had— I kind of have a problem, I think. I need to be wanted. I suppose I didn’t get enough attention as a kid.” She laughed, even though there was no ‘suppose’ about it. Aria knew exactly what was wrong with her. Funny how that didn’t make it easier to fix. “Anyway, we got married, but it didn’t work out. I was never going to be happy at that point in my life, no matter who I was with. He’s an okay guy. We don’t talk, though. We don’t have any reason to.”

  They’d never had any reason to be together in the first place. He’d been in lust and she’d been in her toxic brand of ‘love.’ Ah, sweet romance.

  “That doesn’t sound pathetic to me,” Nik said finally. “It sounds like you were vulnerable. But that’s okay. You don’t learn how to ride a bike without falling.”

  She smiled despite herself. “Deep, man.”

  “So deep,” he deadpanned.

  “Seriously, though, I’m…” Aria trailed off with a sigh. This wasn’t fucking therapy. Nevertheless, something about the look on his face made her finish. “I’ve learned, over the years, that relationships really aren’t for me. I’m not… I can’t trust myself.”

  “Yourself?”

  “Or anyone else,” she added with a grin. “Whatever. Semantics. This is depressing. Can we move on?”

  “We can do whatever you like, moro mou.” Nik sat up suddenly, their faces inches apart. “I told you yesterday. All you have to do is ask.”

  His gaze held her hostage, heavy-lidded and intense. Aria’s nipples tightened as she squeezed her thighs together, that familiar ache strengthening instantly. “Really?”

  “Really.” He brushed a kiss over the corner of her mouth. Just the slightest touch, but she felt that hint of pressure directly between her legs.

  “Fuck me, then,” she said, throwing the words out like a challenge. He couldn’t resist a challenge.

  Except, apparently, for right now. Nik’s mouth met hers, his tongue tracing a red-hot line over the seam of her lips until they parted for him. He didn’t deepen the kiss, though. Christ, at this point, she would’ve let him shove his dick in there—but instead, he pulled away.

  A teasing smile on his face, he murmured, “I will fuck you happily. After I take you to dinner.”

  Aria stared. “What?”

  “Dinner.” He got up and headed for the wardrobe. “Get up. We’re going to eat.”

  “I… I thought we weren’t going out tonight.” I thought you were going to shag me senseless, you infuriating bastard.

  “Not with them. But you’re hungry, aren’t you?”

  Well, yeah. She usually was. And she certainly wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of asking for sex again.

  Especially not when something in the tightly coiled muscles of his shoulders, the dangerous gleam in his eyes, told her she’d get what she wanted eventually.

  After dinner, she supposed.

  “Fine,” Aria allowed, dragging herself out of bed. “I’m gonna shower.”

  “Leave the door open.”

  She stopped in her tracks, turning to him with a blink. “Why?”

  “I know you
want to come, Ri. But you won’t be. Not until I say so.” He rifled through his shirts in the wardrobe as he spoke, his tone casual. “So, leave the door open. If I catch you misbehaving, there’ll be consequences.”

  His voice flooded her body with desperate lust, need pooling low in her belly. Still, Aria kept her voice steady as she said, “Consequences?”

  He looked over his shoulder. “Should I spell it out for you, agapi mou?”

  “No,” she muttered, hurrying off to the shower. She was already horny enough, thanks very much.

  Chapter 14

  Nik took Aria to the best restaurant he knew and wondered why the food tasted like dust in his mouth.

  Probably because it wasn’t her. Wasn’t her skin, sweet and sharp like cinnamon. Wasn’t her mouth, soft and inviting. Wasn’t her cunt, whose scent was practically imprinted on his brain despite how many hours had passed since he’d made her come.

  He might have avoided those sorts of thoughts—and thus avoided getting hard in a five-star restaurant—if Aria hadn’t spent the entire meal moaning over every mouthful she swallowed. She gasped as she licked creamy dessert off her spoon; batted her eyelashes every time she looked at him; said his name almost as breathlessly as she did when she came. She was doing it on purpose. Which just made it hotter.

  “So, what are you going to do now?” she asked, trailing her fingertips over the stem of her wineglass. She’d had it filled with water because “If I drink anymore this week, my kidneys might shank me.”

  Nick tore his attention away from the glide of her fingers over glass. “Do?”

  “Instead of football,” she said slowly, which reminded him that before the movement of her hands had hypnotised him, they’d been discussing his profession.

  “Ah. Right. Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?”

  She arched a brow. “You don’t have any ideas?”

  “No,” he said, both entirely honest and slightly pathetic. “I, um… I’m not really good at anything else.”