London (International Guy Book 7)

by Audrey Carlan

  My stomach sours, and I put my forearm over my eyes. “I think the better question is: What didn’t we drink? I distinctly remember we started with wine and then switched to hard liquor. Scotch, I think.”

  “Ugh,” she murmurs, fumbling for my dress shirt and slipping it on over her bare shoulders, where I can see the faint hint of a hickey I’d given her last night.

  That woman, for the love of all things holy, looks just as sexy now, all tousled with sex hair, as she did at the photo shoot yesterday made up like a vixen.

  My throat goes dry as I look my fill. “I’m one lucky son of a bitch. Sky . . . don’t ever leave me.” The tone in my voice is weary, filled with an insecurity I don’t often let run free, and nothing but honesty. Pure, undiluted honesty.

  She stops at the door and glances over her shoulder. “Keep loving me right, and I never will.” She winks and closes the door to what I assume is the bathroom.

  God, that woman could ruin me so easily. She holds my heart, my very soul, in the palm of her hand.

  I rub at my aching forehead and look around. Seeing the blue walls and airy white lace curtains, I’m reminded that I don’t know where the fuck we are. I sit up in bed, and my head protests, the hammering continuing. I need a trough of coffee and a handful of ibuprofen, and maybe even a shot of scotch if we didn’t drain all of Scotland of the stuff last night.

  The toilet flushes, and what sounds like the faucet in the sink comes on. Skyler exits the bathroom and sits on the edge of the bed, reaching for me. I grab her hand. She grimaces. “I think we’re still at Geneva’s place.”

  “Last thing I remember is us drinking a lot with Geneva and Bo, kissing you against the staircase, and fucking the shit out of you.”

  She grins and leans forward, then kisses me softly. “I remember fucking the shit out of you, mister.” She pokes at my chest.

  “Be that as it may, we need to put some clothes on and find out what’s going on outside of our impromptu love nest.”

  She snorts. “Love nest. More like a fuck pad. What we did last night, the marks you put all over my body . . .” She lifts up my dress shirt, and her chest has a handful of hickeys on her breasts, the tips a dark red instead of the light pink they normally are, meaning they were treated to some pretty serious suction. Farther down she points out fingerprint marks on her hips.

  “Should I be sorry?” I offer a flat mask by way of a facial expression, so she doesn’t know how very proud I am of those little reminders of our time together. It’s pretty obvious I worked my woman over the way a man should.

  Skyler laughs hard and pulls the blanket off my chest. “No way! I think I scarred you.” She runs her fingers down the side of my rib cage where some pretty deep red welts exist from what I can only assume were her nails. A couple of giant hickeys mar my chest where she got her Hoover routine on, giving as good as she got.

  I grin and finger the purple bruise over my heart. “I’ll wear my love bites with pride.”

  “As will I.” She runs her fingers over my abdominal muscles, and they ripple with pleasure. “Besides, last night was a blur.” She lets out all the air in her lungs. “All I remember is being naked with you in every position possible.”

  I don’t stop the huge smile that takes over my face.

  She shoves at my chest. “You’re such a guy!”

  I loop my arm around her waist and bring her flat over me. “You sore?” I whisper against her lips, sucking the bottom one in and giving it a little nip.

  Skyler’s cheeks pinken. “Yeah . . . ,” she whispers shyly.

  I smack her hard on the ass, knowing it must sting. “Then I’ve done my job as your man!” I make over-the-top, animalistic-type noises similar to what I imagine a Neanderthal would make, barking out his likes and dislikes.

  This has her laughing into my chest until she groans and grips her head.

  I grimace. “We’ve got to find some painkillers.”

  “Absolutely,” she mumbles, pain harsh in her tone.

  “All right, up.” I smack her delectable ass again until she rolls over me and comes to a shaky standing position. I do the same and put on my white V-neck undershirt and dress slacks. Skyler slips on her underwear, but my shirt goes down to her midthighs, long enough to be decent as a dress. I grab her hand, and the two of us head out the door.

  Once out, it becomes clear we are definitely in Geneva’s house. The smell of bacon and fried potatoes cooking has me steering us to the stairs, my mouth salivating at the need to fill my belly with as much grease as possible. As we make our way to the top landing, I hear a clacking sound coming from the author’s second office to our left. I hold my finger to my lips and make a shushing noise.

  Skyler nods, and together we tiptoe over to Geneva’s office.

  When we get there, the most awesome sight greets us. Geneva, dressed in a burgundy satin teddy, is typing away at her computer. Her hair looks the same as Skyler’s, a total mess, only different in color. I press on Skyler’s stomach to ease her out of the doorway and leave the author to her work.

  Together Skyler and I take the stairs one at a time, rather slowly, both of us a hurting unit if there ever was one.

  Once we get to the bottom of the staircase, I follow my nose to the kitchen. At the stove is a bare-chested Bo, wearing nothing but his dark jeans and a brilliant smile. His hair is spiked every which way, proving he too just rolled out of a very active bed.

  “Good morning, SkyPark.” He uses the name the paparazzi assigned the pair of us.

  “Ugh.” Skyler moans, maneuvers onto a barstool, and rests her head in her hands, the cuffs of my shirt flopping backward over the sleeves.

  Bo holds up a spatula while taking the few feet to a bottle of meds on the opposite counter and handing them over to Sky. “Here, hot pants. Let me get you some water.” He sets the bottle in front of her.

  “Bless you, my friend.”

  He chuckles and looks as though he’s perfectly fine, no hangover whatsoever, which actually pisses me off. I mean, I know Bo can hold his liquor, but not that well. It was drink for drink between all of us last night.

  “How the hell are you so chipper?” I grumble, taking the seat next to Skyler, who pops open the pill bottle, shakes four into her palm, and hands them to me before repeating the process for herself.

  She takes the pills and downs half of the water before handing the water bottle to me. I follow her lead, swallowing the pills and drinking the rest of the water.

  Bo goes back to his food and flips the bacon over. I practically taste the greasy goodness from the smell alone. My stomach grumbles loudly, and I rub at the empty space. “You went to bed the same time we did . . .”

  He turns around with a cocked eyebrow. “Did I?”

  “Yeah?” I push back into my memory bank, and I recall Geneva pointing to a room for Skyler and me, while Bo led her into her space, presumably to have the same fun we had.

  Bo shakes his head. “Wrong. Geneva had hit a dry spell the past year. I spent the evening making sure every inch of her was filled up.” He smirks, and I gag.

  “Niiiiice going, bro!” Skyler puts her fist out, and he bumps it.

  “Baby, don’t encourage him.”

  She eases her elbow to the bar and puts her head in her hand. “Why not? Geneva is a grown woman; she wanted to get her some lovin’. Look at the guy . . . she couldn’t do better.” My girl yawns and closes her eyes.

  Inside I seethe at what she revealed, heat filling up my chest, making me want to breathe fire.

  Skyler opens her eyes and assesses me, then Bo. He has his arms crossed over his bare chest, and he flexes his biceps, making his muscles pop and bulge. “Your woman thinks I’m hot.”

  Skyler sits up, and her eyes go wide before she points at me and then him. “You both took that out of context.” Skyler eases off the stool and wedges her body between my split thighs before wrapping her arms around my waist. “No one is as hot as you. What I meant to say is, your broth
er, Bo, is a good-looking guy and Geneva a beautiful woman. If they want to make friends for the night, why not?”

  Sky plants her body against mine and puts her lips to my neck. “You know what I was trying to say.”

  I inhale her scent fully into my lungs and let the insecurity that crept up instantly go. Skyler’s allowed to state her opinions, and I should be man enough to accept that she loves me, wants to be with me, and finds me attractive. I’m her choice. Just because she thinks someone else looks good doesn’t mean she wants them. It’s just a simple observation.

  I breathe through my stupidity and nuzzle her temple, kissing her there. Bo tilts his head, probably waiting for me to fire back at him. This time, I’m not going to give him the satisfaction.

  “Damn, woman’s changing you,” he quips, and tends to the food.

  “For the better.” I hold my girl close and let her body ease the spot of tension before it can turn into something I’m not proud of.

  Skyler lifts her head up and cups my cheek. “I love you.”

  “I know you do.”

  “And I think you’re the hottest man I’ve ever known.”

  “You don’t need to say that. I’m man enough to accept that my woman has eyes.” I glance over at Bo and note his fit form, muscular back, and large muscles. He works hard for his body, and he does right by it. “You’re right. He’s a good-looking guy, but don’t ever tell him I said that,” I whisper.

  “I heard that!” Bo hollers over the fan he turned on for the bacon grease. “You think I’m hot.” He shimmies his hips to give us an ass-and-back show.

  Skyler watches the show and then nudges my chin with her nose until I’ve got my gaze on her. “You’re hotter.”

  “Did you hear that?” I say as loud as my tired brain will allow.

  Bo turns the knob so the fan gets louder. “Nope. Cooking over here!”

  “Bastard.” I grin and watch Bo make breakfast.

  Skyler shovels in another bite of eggs and hums around her fork.

  “Good?” Bo asks.

  She nods but doesn’t stop.

  “This another one of Momma Sterling’s recipes?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “Nah, my mother taught me how to make a southern breakfast when I was young. By the time I was a teenager, I’d perfected all forms of breakfast. Eggs, bacon, pancakes, french toast, biscuits and gravy. You know, the norm.” He bites into a hunk of potatoes.

  “I assumed you were raised in Boston like Parker and Royce?” Skyler taps her fork onto her plate.

  “Nah, born and raised in New Orleans by my mother and sisters. I’m the baby of four kids.”

  “Four!” Skyler’s eyes widen as she stabs the cut potatoes.

  Bo chuckles. “Yes, ma’am.” His words are slathered in the southern drawl he often hides.

  “What do your parents do?” she asks, and I’m surprised he hasn’t shut her down yet. Bo doesn’t talk much about his family. His doing so means he’s accepted Skyler into our inner circle.

  “My mother, Elizabeth, is a fashion designer.”

  “No . . . Oh my God! I never made the connection. Your mother is Liz Montgomery! I’ve worn one of her dresses to a red carpet event. She’s extremely talented.”

  “Yes, she is.” He nods, pride lifting his chest as he straightens his spine. “And my sisters all work for her in the family business. One works as my mother’s right-hand seamstress, another in designs, and the last runs the official Liz Montgomery Designs show store in New York City. They’re looking to expand across the country and have invited me in . . . but . . .”

  My hungover brain buzzes, and the dots of what he just said start to connect. “Bo, you never mentioned that your family wants you to join their business.” I can’t help the concern in my voice. My filter is not working at all today.

  He shrugs and stands up with his half-eaten meal as if the need to escape is more important than the desire to fill his gullet.

  “Does Royce know about this?” I continue.

  He sighs and shoves the rest of his food into the trash. “No, and I’d appreciate it if you don’t tell him.”

  That has me jerking back and pushing out of my seat. “Why the hell not?”

  “Because it’s not necessary. I’m not doing it, so it doesn’t matter.”

  I walk over to Bo, the rest of my breakfast left untouched. “Maybe you need to think about this, talk to us about it. We’d never begrudge you what’s part of your family obligation . . .”

  He turns around, a scowl spreading across his face. “And what about our family? The brotherhood. IG. We did that together. All three of us. Now we’ve got Wendy on the team, and we’re doing better than ever. Hell, last I talked to Royce, he mentioned the idea of us expanding across the nation and hiring a corporate lawyer. Now you want me to think about jumping ship when we’re finally seeing our hard work pay off?”

  I shake my head and lean against the counter. “No. Not at all, but this is your mom and your sisters. If you want to get involved, I’m sure we could work something out, halve you in a way if that’s what you needed. We’d never keep you from something you feel you needed to do.”

  He grabs the dishcloth and wipes his hands. “That’s fine and dandy and all, but my place is with IG. I don’t need to be split between my mother’s fashion empire and IG. She created the Montgomery name. I helped create the IG name, and I’m proud of what we’ve accomplished. Right now, sky’s the limit for us, and I want to be there for every . . . fucking . . . thing. Is that all right with you?” His tone is firm.

  I lift my hands in a gesture of surrender. “Brother, of course. It’s IG all the way, but if you need to talk about this or change your mind, I’m here for you. Roy is here for you. If you want to dabble, get your feet wet in the Montgomery business, we’ll support you. It’s all I’m saying.”

  Bo lifts his chin, but his jaw is locked tight.

  “We cool?” I feel the need to confirm.

  His shoulders drop, and he puts out his hand. I move to grab it, and he pulls me in for a full chest-to-chest hug, slapping my back and making the squishy part of my brain scream in agony at the swift, jarring movement.

  “We’re cool, man.” Bo slaps me one more time, and I swear I see stars. Leaning back, I brace myself on the counter.

  “More coffee?” he asks.

  “Oh yeah.”

  He chuckles.

  “Tell me again how you escaped without a hangover?” I trudge back to my plate and sit down. Skyler has completely cleaned hers and is nibbling on another piece of bacon. Girl is an endless pit after a night of drinking, but I learned that after the first time we got sauced.

  “Didn’t really sleep. Tired as fuck!” He laughs.

  I frown. “But I saw Geneva up in her office, typing like a madwoman.”

  “Yeah, turns out, whatever you guys have been doing over the past week or so and a night of wild fucking brings out the muse and obliterates writer’s block.”

  “Seriously?” Hope fills my chest, my heart pounding out an excited drumbeat.

  He pours a fresh cup of coffee and doctors it just the way I like before setting it in front of me.

  “Yeah. The first time, I gave her a couple of solid Os and hit the shower. When I came out, she was at her desk typing. I sat in her office, read one of her books until she came back to me for another go. Did her good, and then she got back up and went to the keyboard. This continued through the night. I fed her food and water in between, and she wrote and then we fucked. Great night. I’m hoping for a nap here in a few and then another go. She’s a wildcat in the sack, ooohhh weeeee.”

  Skyler laughs and I wince. “Too much information, bro. Way too much information.”

  On that note Geneva walks in, this time wearing a silk robe down to her ankles.

  “You hungry, sugar?” Bo asks.

  She grins, walks right up to him, and takes his mouth in a searing kiss. It becomes so hot both Skyler and I look away.

>   “Yeah?” she says softly.

  “For food?” He gives her his sexy smile.

  “That too.”

  Bo growls and bites at her neck until she laughs herself silly. When he’s done making a seriously gag-worthy public display of affection—the likes of which I’ll likely never forget—he lets her go and swats her ass. “Have a seat. I’ve got a plate warming for you.”

  Geneva sits down at the table and pushes her hair out of her eyes. “Wow,” she mouths to Skyler, and shakes her hand like she’s just touched something hot.

  “Soooooo . . .” I draw out the word to get her off the topic she was about to go on. “We noted you were writing this morning . . .”

  “Goodness, yes, all night actually. I know where the story is going, and I have a grand idea for how it all ends!”

  Skyler and I both look at one another, and Skyler reaches out a hand to me. I high-five her, and then we both high-five Geneva, which isn’t normally my thing, but it’s Skyler’s.

  “This is incredible news, Gen,” Skyler gushes.

  The author preens and blushes. “It is. And I can’t . . .” Her words fail her, and tears fill her eyes. “I honestly didn’t believe that a consultant from the States could help with the issue, but you have. Seeing the two of you together, putting my characters into the love story that exudes from the two of you, just made it all click. Seeing the fans, knowing they haven’t forgotten about me or the story . . .” She shakes her head. “It’s all been so eye-opening.”

  Bo sets a plate full of food in front of Geneva. She lifts her hand to Bo’s cheek as he leans in to steal a kiss. She pats his scruffy face and smiles. “And a night with a stud like you . . . bloody inspiring.”

  Bo grins. “See. Told you so.” He directs his response to me.

  “Where are you planning to take the story, if you don’t mind me asking?” I lift my cup and sip my coffee.

  Geneva pushes a lock of hair behind her ear. “Well, I’ve decided to make it a lot hotter. This book will be erotic.”

  Skyler’s mouth drops open. “Oh boy.”

  “Are you sure that your contemporary-romance readers won’t be concerned with the heat level rising?”