Valentine's Day Kisses : Boxed Set

by Addison Moore

  “Are you trying to impress me?” I give an impish grin as I take a seat. I have my notepad and pen ready to go. I plan on getting the low-down on exactly what the job entails, not to mention giving him the details of the job I have laid out for him, emphasis on the laid.

  “Is that how they teach you to greet your boss in the morning?” He scoots into the seat in front of me. He’s teasing but a part of him seems curious.

  “How, pray tell, did the other scullery maids greet you? Let me guess. Good morning, Sire! How would you like your java brewed? Excuse me while I grind your coffee beans with the heels of my stilettos.”

  “I would never ask you to ruin a good pair of shoes.” A devious smile creeps up his face, just one side. Wyatt is like a delicious piece of steak sitting in front of me that I cannot wait to devour. “I can get my own coffee.” He glides a stack of neatly bound papers toward me.

  “What’s this?” Rags to Riches Two-Year Business Plan. “You did this?” I thumb through it quickly getting the gist. It’s pages and pages of outlines, suggestions, implementation techniques, and new ideas I’ve never even thought of.

  “As you can see I have an initial plan of five seamstresses. That could free you up to purchase more fabric, clothes to up-cycle, whichever. And there’s even room for you to create a few pieces of your own thus keeping the integrity of where it all began.”

  “Wow, okay.” I’m totally blown away as I continue to skim over the proposal like a drink of water in what had always been a vast, lonely desert. “You have a five point plan for a retail outlet in two different online locations?” I’m more than impressed.

  “Three—three different online locations. I’ve already purchased the domain name for your website.”

  “You don’t waste any time, do you?” The words wobble on my tongue. I’m not used to someone going the extra mile for me. “What do I owe you?”

  “For what?”

  “The domain—the proposal.” I happen to know that a domain name isn’t too spendy but a professional proposal like this with such a deep scope and sequence can garner 10K on the light side. Maybe he’ll give me the good guy discount since I’m generously gifting my body to him for the time being.

  “My payment is your proposal.” His jaw tightens before he flexes a genuine smile. “Where is it?”

  God, he’s on the ball. And I’m sure his balls are what have him so on it.

  “I’m afraid I’m not as efficient as you. I haven’t had a chance to digest that pizza from last night let alone formulate a fifty-page addendum of what our sexual future might hold.” Not that I didn’t fall asleep thinking of the twisted possibilities.

  “Like I mentioned, I’ve read your articles.” A set of evenly matched dimples go off in his cheeks, but he withholds the smile this time. It’s a bit tantric in nature, and I can feel the big O begging for that devilish grin of his to take me all the way home. “I’ve no doubt you can be prolific if the moment calls. And, the moment is calling.” He mock checks his watch. “That’s how I want you to spend the day. Right here”—he gives a quick knock to the desk—“formulating a plan of action.”

  “Consider it done.” I plop my blank notebook onto the glass overlay, and a slapping sound emits, a bit embarrassing, yet, most likely indicative of what’s to come. Namely me.

  My pen glides over the stark white parchment absentmindedly. I give it a few good revolutions before I glance back up at his garden-green eyes.

  “I’ve got nothing.” Crap. “Not that I’m admitting defeat. Its just sort of par for the course considering I have a knack to procrastinate if I have a big assignment due. I’m one of those people who really thrive under pressure. I didn’t think this was due so soon, Professor James.” A coy smile curls up my lips. I think I’ve just found his nickname, apropos as it might be, it adds a scorching flare. That cocky, I-know-I’ve-got-you leer, that self-approving grin. Wyatt James is drunk off his own charm, and it’s easy to see that the female world around him often partakes of his libations. He’s so perfect for my test subject that a squeal of delight emits from my throat.

  His brows rise. “Excited?”

  “Very.”

  “Good.” He sets another report in front of me, this one considerably thinner in nature, the cover page simply reads Document. I skip to the next page and find both our names printed out at the bottom with a space for a signature to the right. Above that it reads; I, Marley Jackson, herein enter into a common law contract with Wyatt James to engage in consensual sexual activity that remains within legal bounds and in no way produces harm to either party. I agree to negate the right to any litigation that might arise in the event of emotional or physical trauma. This is a legally enforceable promise that adheres to state laws within North Carolina. The contractual terms are as follows:

  •If litigation is necessary both parties agree to seek arbitration.

  •No monetary exchanges will take place in lieu of consensual acts, prior to or post the span of contractual services.

  •If either party feels the need to withdraw from this consensual relationship the term application as stated in this document is null and void, thus dissolving any further relations.

  •There shall be no third party status. All consensual sexual relations are to take place between the above stated individuals, to consummate once lab results reveal both individuals are free from any sexually transmitted diseases.

  I glance up amused. “You always draw up a legal document before entering into a hookup?”

  He pushes out a dry smile, and something about that small action sends a quiver between my thighs.

  “This isn’t a simple hookup.” He says it so cool, it’s believable. “Not in the traditional sense. And the lab work is just to put your mind at ease. I saw my doctor this morning. I’ve called campus health services for you, and their earliest opening for a screening is later this afternoon.”

  Oh, wow. Me thinks the professor is randy. I give a gluttonous grin. “Consider me there.”

  “Good. They’re expecting you. I’ve already put your name in.”

  Holy wow, this guy is really on top of it. I’m guessing he’s anxious to get on top of something else. The only planning ahead Will ever did was to fill up his gas tank before making us late to the movies.

  “So are you any good?” I’m half teasing but curious as to how far his ego is willing to go to defend his fornicating honor.

  “Are you kidding?” His eyes dart to mine. His features melt serious and hard as flint. “I can make a career of this if need be.”

  Thought so.

  “Well, then! This is going to be fantastic.” I quickly scribble my name in all the appropriate slots before sliding it over to him. “When can we begin?”

  Wyatt leans in with his elbows on the desk, his hands pressed together near his mouth as if he were sending up a prayer.

  “One month.”

  “Tonight.” I counter, stunned by his latent proposal.

  “Three weeks.”

  “Two and a half, and I might spend the night.”

  “I promise you”—a slow grin spreads over his face, his eyes glow with an intense level of assuredness—“you will never want to leave.”

  I watch his full lips move as he rounds out the words. Something tells me he’s right.

  “You’re going to fall in love with me.” His dimples go off as he gives a cocky grin.

  “I’m going to use you.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Wyatt scrawls his name over all the appropriate boxes and sets down the pen with a deafening clang.

  The smile glides from his face. “Let the games begin.”

  “They already have.”

  Wyatt

  “Classification of terms?” Blake scoffs as he flings the contract back my way.

  “Don’t look so unimpressed. I wasn’t trying to woo her, I was trying to scare her—as in scare her off.” I glance over the page where Marley penned her signature just a few short d
ays ago.

  “You don’t say.” He looks mildly amused. “Did it work?”

  “Oddly, no.” I tuck the lewd document back into my briefcase.

  The Black Bear is filling up around us as the rest of Blake’s band puts together the equipment on stage.

  A familiar dark-haired shadow treks over. Monica. I give a brief idea of a smile. Just great. I’ve sent a steady stream of polite yet dismissive text messages for the last few days—especially after missing dinner with her the other night. I’ve never forgotten about a dinner date in my life. I still feel pretty bad about that, although, in my defense, Marley is quite the distraction.

  I lean toward my brother. “Why don’t you go up and help out the band?”

  Blake rises. “You’ve got a birthday coming up. Anything on your wish list?”

  A grimace comes and goes at the thought. Benji and I had our birthdays just a day apart. I’m pretty sure that’s the only reason Blake remembers it. My birthday will now forever be a source of pain.

  “No worries, buddy. It’s like in a month. I think we should forget about it.”

  “It’s in two weeks. And I’m not forgetting.” He knocks on the table before heading for the stage.

  “Looks like I came just in time.” Monica settles across from me with a tight-lipped smile, her glasses dripping to the tip of her nose. “So, who’s the lucky girl?”

  “Lucky girl?” A slight wave of heat rides through me at the mention of a girl. I give a quick glance to the entrance. Marley mentioned Blake would be playing tonight. She knows I’ll be here. We spent the better half of the day locked in one sexual innuendo after another, not to mention a never-ending steam of banter that left my body aching for some relief. I suppose in that sense there is a girl. “There is no girl.” And now I’ve lied to Monica for the very first time.

  “Good.” She pulls forward her Louis Vuitton briefcase and settles her elbows over it. “Let’s get out of this adolescent pigsty and have some real fun. Marcus picked the kids up from school today. I’m all yours for the weekend.” She pulls her lip in slowly with her teeth. Invitation sent.

  “Can’t do it.” My eyes float nervously past her. “I’m meeting someone—and before your mind wanders, it’s not like that.”

  “Oh?” She darts her gaze around the room quick as a pinball machine. “Then what’s it like?”

  “Just doing a friend a favor.” I take another hit off my beer and give a casual glance over my shoulder. I’m not sure how to classify what I’m doing with Marley. Not sure if she’s a friend, but in the least that’s how I see her.

  Monica leans in with the determination of a cougar with her ovaries on fire. “How about doing this friend a favor?”

  Our eyes connect, and as much as I’d like to, I can’t look away. Monica and I have a history. We were together, seemingly in love, for what felt like an eternal portion of my life. I can feel her wanting me. The slight hint of desperation lingers in the air, and I wish it didn’t. I wish she could see that even though I’m unattached, I’ve moved on.

  “What’s the favor, Mon?” I plop my beer back on the table like the slamming of a gavel.

  “My father’s house is about to go on the market. I need to be in Aspen for two weeks minimum. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind coming along.”

  “Really?” She surprised me there. Two weeks is enough time to rekindle just about any flame, but I’m afraid in our situation she’s only going to find out the hard way there’s nothing left between us. “Sorry about your father.” Both of Monica’s parents are gone, her father being the last to pass away. “Let me think about it. Forward me the details, and I’ll see what I can work out.” Not sure why I didn’t just say no. Most likely because her father was a good guy, and the thought of crushing her while he lingers around us like a ghost makes it that much less appealing. I’ll let her down slowly some other time.

  Her phone rings, and she quickly inspects it. “I’d better take this outside. Be right back.” She slices by at a quickened pace, and a flood of relief fills me.

  I’m not sure why Monica feels like a lead coat lately, but I’d hate for her to sense it. We’ve known each other too long, gone through too much bull to simply forget one another existed. It’s a wonder she still speaks to me let alone wants to fall into my bed. She’s the one who went out and found someone else while I thought our relationship was still going strong. In truth, I didn’t feel so strongly about it, and that’s exactly why I wasn’t so surprised when she walked out the door. I think that’s why I feel so bad for Marley. I get the confusion you feel when the one you’re with is suddenly with someone else. It sucks, and it can sting like hell. It makes you insane—so much so that you might find yourself having contractual sex with someone you hardly even know. That’s why I wanted to pull the timeline out a good month. At least give her a chance to clear her head.

  A cool pair of hands momentarily covers my eyes. That familiar gardenia scent surrounds me, and I don’t need my vision to tell me who it is. The warmth of her body covers my back, and I fight the urge to lean against her.

  “Annie?” I tease.

  “Be quiet, you.” Marley slinks into the seat across from me as I hold back a laugh. Her hair is up, waterfalling into a cascade of curls at the crown. Her face glows like the moon. Marley shines with her crystal blue eyes heavily lined in dark kohl. It’s a vexingly gorgeous effect I can’t seem to tear my gaze from.

  “I want you.” The words slip out before I can stop them.

  “You want me?” She spikes in her seat, pleasantly amused at the statement. Not sure why it surprises her. My body, my eyes, each breath I take confirms that I want her every time she’s near me.

  It’s clear I don’t have any control over my tongue when she’s around.

  “I want you—to dance with me.” That’s definitely not what I was going to say, nor is it remotely what I want, but, apparently, I’ve been possessed by a frat boy, so I take off my jacket and go with it. “Come on.” I pick up her hand and head to the dance floor. Blake ends one song on a wild jolting note, and I cringe at what I’m about to do. Hell, I know what I need to do. I’ll simply move and shake like a monkey who’s being electrocuted, and Marley will want nothing more to do with me. If that contract didn’t scare her off, I think my dance moves will cement the need to flee.

  Blake pumps a dry laugh into the mike as the music starts up again, hard and caustic—the electric chair for white boys on the dance floor. If there’s a “Dudes Don’t Dance” episode, I’ll be on it. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone records the killer moves I’m about to implement, and it goes viral by morning. I’m okay with putting aside my ego if it means getting Marley to rethink her stance on experimenting with someone for the sake of her article.

  The music stops just as I’m about to bust a back-breaking move. Blake looks down at us with his hand up to the band.

  “I’m going to switch things up for a while,” he pants into the mike. “Grab your lady, girls grab your man—get ready to get your hip grinding in for the night.”

  I shoot him a look as efficient as giving him the finger, and he nods with a devious smile.

  “Nice.” Marley relaxes her arms around my shoulders before vacuuming her hips to my thighs. “I’ve been waiting to hold you. Finally!” She bites down on her lip, and, for a second, it feels as if she’s teasing.

  “You do feel nice.” I lean in and take a hard sniff of her hair. Lavender. Sevilla had the entire house smelling like a field of lavender when she cleaned. Those were my favorite days, my favorite memories of spending my “Dad” weekends with Sevilla. “You smell pretty damn good, too.” A crude groan escapes me, and I cringe. I’m only propagating what I was hoping to stop. Just beyond her shoulder, I spot Monica threading her way back to our table. I spin Marley deeper into the crowd without giving it a second thought. I’d rather dance, sniff, and taste Marley all night than deflect any more of Monica’s advances.

  “I think you smell nice
, too.” Her hand smooths over my chest. Marley’s eyes sparkle in this dim light like a pair of glittering sapphires. “So two weeks, huh? What inspired you to put the boys on ice for so long?”

  “I wanted to wait a month,” I remind her. “We met at two weeks.” One month left ample room for negotiation. Two weeks leaves just enough time for anticipation. Quite frankly, I’m a bit offended she didn’t put up a bigger fight. I give a private smile. “Besides, you should get to know the person who’s going to be barking out orders in bed.”

  Her mouth falls open, and she stops moving all together. That’s it. She’s done. I brace myself for a slap to the face, but her lips twist in a declaration of approval.

  “So you’re that kind of boy, huh? I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to be dominated in the bedroom.” She bites down on her lower lip so hard, I’m afraid she’ll draw blood.

  “Uncomfortable. It’s going to feel uncomfortable.” Ironic. The harder I try to shake her, the more I seem to reel her in. I’m just too damn charming for my own good. “So you like being tied up?”

  She pushes in tight with her perfect body conforming to mine, and I groan as her chest crush against me.

  “I don’t know.” The words bubble out in a giggle. Marley is adorable, and, if she tries to push her way into my body any harder, my man parts will tell her exactly how adorable I think she is.

  “Mmm…” I shake my head. “I like the restraints set pretty tight—no wiggle room—for you that is.”

  Her eyes widen at the prospect. “You have a four poster bed?”

  “Bought for that very purpose.” Not really. It was a garage sale find, and the posts are more of a nighttime hazard, but they’ve been known to hold a few women steady.

  I sweep a loose strand of hair from her forehead and inspect her in this dim light. Marley is a goddess. She can command anyone with a pair of testicles to bow before her, and they would. They couldn’t help it. She’s that beautiful. But, apparently, the thought of being tied up does nothing to dissuade her from our little agreement.