by Green, Megan
“Because I’ve never been like this around anybody else. You make me so angry. You piss me off more than any other man I’ve ever met. But at the exact same time, I can’t stop picturing you down between my legs, your mouth on my pussy, your cock hard and swollen as it waits to take me.”
Fuck me. Did she have to make this even harder than it already was?
Pun intended.
But everything she said is true. Monroe drives me crazy in a way I’ve never experienced before. She’s frustrating and pushes each and every one of my buttons numerous times a day. But she’s also the most intriguing woman I’ve ever met, and I’d be lying if I said my thoughts didn’t trail to her dozens of times throughout the day.
“You make me feel the same way, Monroe,” I say, reaching over to place my hand on her thigh. “You’re the most infuriating woman I’ve ever met, but there’s just something about you. Something I can’t get enough of.”
A soft snore fills the cab, and I mutter a curse under my breath. Of course, she would choose right now to pass the fuck out.
I lift my hand from her leg, placing it back on the steering wheel and let her sleep the rest of the way home. I help her upstairs, once we get there, making sure she’s safe and sound in my bed before closing the door and heading back downstairs.
Monroe might’ve been drunk off her ass, and won’t remember a damn thing she said come morning, but it was too late now.
We’d needed to have a talk before tonight even started. But now?
There’s no way in hell she’s getting out of this house tomorrow morning before we sort this out.
I pull up Benton’s name in my phone, firing off a quick text.
Me: I’ll drop Monroe at the job site tomorrow. You don’t need to swing by to pick her up.
There, this way she won’t be able to use Benton as an excuse to get out of our talk.
My phone chimes.
Benton: What happened to her car? I dropped her off at the motel to get it after work.
Fuck. I must’ve missed it in the parking lot at the bar.
Do I tell him she stopped by there on the way home and got wasted? That Scar had to call me to come get her? No, because then he’ll ask why she didn’t just call him. After all, Scarlett and Benton are close as hell. That’ll trigger all sorts of warning bells. Which reminds me, I’ll need to call Scarlett tomorrow and beg her not to fill in my little bro about tonight’s events.
Me: She ran out of gas. Gas station was closed, so we’ll have to fill it up tomorrow.
The excuse is lame as fuck, and I expect him to call me on it. Hello, Barrett, ever hear of twenty-four-hour pumps? But to my surprise, he doesn’t question it.
Benton: Glad she called you. I wouldn’t have been surprised had she just walked to your place, her stubborn pride not allowing her to ask for help.
Oh brother, you have no idea.
But instead of getting into it, I just play along with the lie I set up.
Me: Surprised me too. Well, get some sleep, bro. We’ll see you in the morning.
I lock the screen of my phone and toss it on the coffee table, pulling a blanket out of the storage ottoman in front of the chair in the corner and going about setting up my makeshift bed on the sofa. My phone sounds from the table, surprising the hell out of me, because Benton never has been one to say good night.
I unlock the phone, and my heart drops to my stomach as I read his words.
Benton: You said “we.” You’re so fucked, bro.
I start typing out a response, immediately deleting and retyping it over and over again, desperate for some sort of explanation, some sort of way to talk my way out of this.
But it’s no use.
I’d inferred Monroe and I were “together” without even meaning to. The words had just come so naturally, I hadn’t even thought twice before hitting send.
Benton is right.
I am so fucked.
* * *
Monroe stumbles down the stairs before eight a.m. the next morning, and I have to admit, I’m impressed. After how sloppy drunk she got last night, I’d half expected her to sleep until noon. I’m perched at the kitchen table when she shuffles into the kitchen, getting a head start on work since there’s no way in hell I’m leaving this house until Monroe and I have had our chat.
Her hair is a rat’s nest on top of her head, her mascara smeared down her cheeks, her face lined from where it was pressed into the pillow on my bed. She’s a hot freaking mess.
And somehow still looks gorgeous as fuck.
“Morning, sunshine,” I say with a smile, and chuckle softly when she winces like I just shouted through a megaphone instead of spoken at a normal tone. “How did you sleep?”
She groans in response, beelining straight for the coffee maker. She opens the cupboard above it, closing it immediately when she doesn’t find what she’s looking for, before moving on to the next one. I watch as she searches cupboard after cupboard, a smile spreading across my face as she finally throws her hands up in exasperation and twirls to glare at me.
“Okay, I give. Where the fuck do you hide your mugs in this damn house?”
Half of me wants to toy with her some more, keep her guessing and see how long it takes her to spot them. But the other half sees the hangover in her eyes, and since I like my balls exactly where they are, I decide to cut her a break, pushing up off my chair and striding over to her.
I lean further into her than I really need to, my hips pressing into hers, forcing her lower back to meet the edge of the counter as I reach a hand behind her.
Her breath hitches as my mouth stops just next to her ear, my nose burying in her hair for just a moment, my lips just inches from her flesh. I can feel the goosebumps as they ignite across her skin. “Right here,” I husk into her ear before stepping back, producing the mug I pulled from the tree right next to the coffee pot.
Her eyes flash to mine for a moment, heat darkening her irises before they land on the mug in my hand. She glances back over her shoulder, her cheeks reddening when she realizes she missed seeing them in plain sight.
She grabs it, spinning back around to pour her coffee, the moment between us broken. “Sorry, I’m not used to fancy ass coffee cup holders. Where I come from, we put them in the cupboard. Like normal people.”
I smirk at her little dig because I know it’s her way of trying to put me back at a safe distance. I may not know everything there is to know about Monroe Daniels, but there’s one thing that’s for sure.
Sarcasm is her ultimate weapon.
I casually walk back over to my work spot at the table, taking a seat and busying myself while Monroe makes her coffee. “There are muffins in the pantry,” I shoot over my shoulder, not pausing in the document I’d been reading when she’d entered the room. “I stopped by the store on my way home yesterday.”
“Of course there are,” she mutters under her breath. “Now this place really is like a goddamn B&B.”
I keep both eyes on the document and one ear on Monroe as she prepares her breakfast, trying to appear as casual as possible. But when she turns and tries to leave the kitchen without my notice, I’m up out of my chair and in front of her before she can even make it three feet.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “To get ready for work. I can eat while I dress.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. You and me? We need to have a talk.”
“Barrett, I—”
“Don’t make me cover your mouth like my brother did.”
She squares her shoulders. “You wouldn’t dare.”
I shrug mine. “Try me.”
“We don’t have time for this—”
I bring my hand up and move to cover her mouth, without any intention of actually doing so. Benton might’ve been able to get away with it, but I know there’s no way in hell she wouldn’t murder me in my sleep if I tried it.
She ducks out of the way before I can ev
en drop my hand. “I can’t believe—”
I shut her up in the only way I know how.
I grab her face with both hands, taking her mouth with my own in a hard kiss.
Neither of us even flinches as the coffee mug in her hand shatters to the ground, her body melting into mine as my tongue breaches the seam of her lips. She opens wide for me, welcoming me into her mouth as easily as she’d allowed me between her thighs the other night.
I kiss her senseless for a few minutes, briefly contemplating putting my plans for this morning on the back burner in favor of something highly more entertaining. But I know if we don’t do this now, we’ll just keep finding excuse after excuse, and before we know it, we’ll be in way over our heads, so far under the water that there’s no distinguishing up from down.
Regretfully, I break the kiss, feathering my lips gently over hers a few times before finally stepping back.
“And that is why we have to talk.”
She pouts out her lower lip, and the sight of it nearly kills me, my teeth aching to sink into that luscious flesh.
Keep your head in the game, Brooks.
I take Monroe’s hand and start to lead her out of the kitchen toward the sofa, but immediately think better of it. Soft cushions and room to sprawl out is only asking for trouble. Better we do this here, the safety of the kitchen table between us.
I pull out her chair and wait for her to sit before sliding it in and then walking around to the other side. It feels like a business meeting and I fucking hate it, but I know it’s the only way I’m going to be able to keep my hands off her long enough to actually talk.
After clearing my throat, I get right to it. “We need to set up some ground rules.”
She arches a brow at me. “Ground rules for a fling? Taking things a little too seriously aren’t you, Barrett? You gonna present me with a contract next?”
I roll my eyes. “I saw those movies, and unfortunately, bondage ain’t my bag. Though if you want to get creative with some rope, I’d happily oblige.”
Her eyes flash at my words, and I mentally berate myself. Not fucking helping here, Brooks.
“No, we don’t need a contract,” I say, getting back on track. “What we do need is to figure out what the hell this is happening between us, and if we’re going to continue to let it happen.”
Monroe’s eyes fall down to the table between us, looking, for the first time since she stepped into the kitchen, uncertain. I can see the war waging behind her eyes, and I have to assume her thoughts are taking a similar route as mine.
I hadn’t asked for this complication in my life. I damn sure didn’t need it. It would probably be best for both of us if we just went our separate ways. The City Hall job would be complete soon enough, and until then, Benton could handle all coordination that might need to occur between me and Monroe.
But that’s not what I wanted.
And as if reading my mind, Monroe finally speaks. “I don’t want it to stop...not yet.”
An overwhelming sense of relief floods my chest, all the air in my lungs expelling in a loud whoosh.
“Good. I don’t either. But if we’re going to do this, we need to be careful. Benton can’t find out. He’ll never understand.”
She nods vehemently. “Benton can’t know. That’s my only condition.”
“So, this is what we’re going to do. During the day, it’ll be business as usual. You’ll go to the site, I’ll go to the office. We’ll argue about everything under the sun and go home pissed off and hating one another.”
She smirks. “Sounds easy enough. You make it pretty easy to hate you, after all.”
I shoot her a heated look, and she drops her gaze to the table, her cheeks pinking beneath my stare. “You don’t seem to hate me when my cock is wringing the third orgasm from your tight pussy.”
Monroe clears her throat, obviously as affected by my words as I am. “And um, after work? What then?”
I level my gaze on her. “After work, you will come back here. You won’t go to the bar. You won’t hide from me. You’ll stop with the games, and you’ll stay here without argument. And in return, you’ll receive hour after hour of pleasure.”
She swallows hard, her throat bobbing as she lifts her eyes back to mine. “And how long do you propose we continue this...arrangement?”
Until I’ve fucked this insanity out of my system, I think, but don’t speak the words.
“When one of us has decided they’ve had enough, we end it. If you find a place, we end it. If Benton or anybody else even starts to suspect anything, we end it.”
“Easy as that, huh?” she asks, her big doe eyes shining as they stare up at me.
“Easy as that,” I repeat, the words sounding false even to my own ears.
Chapter Seventeen
Monroe
We end it.
We end it.
We end it.
Those damn words have been echoing through my head all day since my little chat with Barrett this morning. I sure as hell don’t want a relationship with the guy, but I also don’t want to go back to shitty orgasms from my good old pal B.O.B.
As much as I don’t want to admit it, we have a connection. An intense mind-blowing connection when we’re in bed together. But that’s it. Nothing more.
I nod to myself as I lay down another piece of laminate. There isn’t a single person around and yet I’m nodding in agreement with the voices in my head. What the hell is going on with me?
My phone dings in my pocket and I study my surroundings quickly before pulling it out. Normally I’m very anti-cell phone on the job especially in my line of work, but I’m all by myself in this office and I’m laying flooring. There’s not a whole lot of accidents that could happen to me right now.
Barrett: I just found out your car was towed, so I’ll pick you up from work tonight.
What the fuck?
Me: What do you mean my car was towed? And why the hell do you know and not me?
Barrett: I just saw Scarlett at the gas station. Apparently, her dad had your car towed when he saw it in the parking lot this morning.
Me: Seriously?
Barrett: Don’t worry, it’s no big deal.
Me: I’m sorry, but was your car towed? Don’t tell me it isn’t a big deal when I now have to figure out how to pay for getting my car back, which I’m sure is going to cost more than the car is even worth. Not to mention that means I’ll have to live with you for that much longer. So yeah, Barrett, it is a big deal.
Barrett: Poor choice of words, I’m sorry. I just meant we’ll figure it out. I’ll see you when I pick you up.
Me: Fine
I can’t believe my car was towed. How does shit like this keep happening to me? I lock my phone and toss it back into my tool belt with a huff. I know he didn’t mean to tell me what to do again, he was just being nice, but I can’t help being pissed off. If there’s one thing I hate more than being out of control in a situation, it’s someone actually taking that control away from me. He can pick me up from work all he wants, but we’re definitely going to have a talk about him ordering me around. I’m not his wife. I’m not his girlfriend. I’m not even his roommate. We’re temporarily living together and scratching an itch. That doesn’t give him the right to say anything about what I do.
“Why don’t you come over later?” Benton’s voice echoes into the room from the hallway and he sounds like he’s right outside the door.
I freeze, knowing he’ll stop talking if he knows I’m here. There’s a pause, so he must be on the phone right now.
“One of these days you’re going to stop fighting your feelings for me.”
Feelings? I had no idea he was seeing or trying to see somebody. Then again, I’ve been so wrapped up in my own shit, that outside of work I haven’t seen Benton at all. We’ve pretty much been doing our own thing lately.
“Who said anything about love? It’s all about the sex, baby. It might take you a minute to adjust to my size, but it
’ll be completely worth it.”
I can’t decide whether or not I want to vomit or smack him upside the head. You’d think since it’s been almost a decade since we graduated high school that Benton Brooks would have grown up a bit. But he’s the same old major flirt he was back then. Not that I’m surprised, but still one of these days he’s going to need to change his ways. Or be a forever bachelor. He definitely isn’t getting any younger, that’s for damn sure.
“Cock rob? What the fuck does that mean?”
Wait, what? Now I’m definitely intrigued. I make a mental note to look that one up later.
A very loud laugh echoes down the hallway to me and he says, “Oh don’t worry babe, that’s not something you have to worry about. But you would know that if you gave me a shot.”
I didn’t really think things through when I suddenly froze my position. But after “sitting” like this for a few minutes, my legs are starting to cramp up. I’m crouched down with my ass barely touching the floor. In an attempt to not make any noise, I slowly slide down to a sitting position. Only the idiot that I am, I forget about the hammer which always hangs on the side of my tool belt as it slams against the concrete floor over and over again.
Son of a bitch.
“Shit, I’ve got to go. I think someone heard me. I’ll talk to you later.”
Crap.
I reach into my side pocket and find my earbuds. They’re a tangled mess, but I quickly shove them in my ears and plug them into my phone. Pulling up my music app, I press play on the first song that comes on.
I giggle to myself when a hip-hop song comes on that I haven’t heard in years. I can’t help it as I get up and start dancing around the room to the beat of the music. I trip slightly on the uneven floor, but I really get my ass shaking when I feel a tap on my shoulder.