Let's Talk About Sext

by Evie Claire

  “This isn’t exactly dating, Granny,” Phebe said with a naughty wink. One that made Lorie frown with hopeless envy.

  “What I wouldn’t give for some seriously hot sex right about now. It’s been waaaay too long.”

  “You really need some Tinder in your life. Or Bumble.”

  Lorie waved the suggestion away and reached for more wine. “What’s all that?” She absently tilted the bottle in the direction of Phebe’s lap.

  “Plans. Brody owns this amazing old building. He’s hired me to renovate it for him while I’m between jobs.”

  “Wait a minute…” Lorie, who until that moment had been leaning over to refill Phebe’s glass, stopped and stood up arrow straight. “You’re fucking your client? Phebe…” Lorie’s free hand landed on her hip, practically punctuating her disapproval. “That’s the cardinal rule we do not break. How many times have you told me that if I want to be taken seriously at work, I have to leave my vagina at home?”

  “Partner. Not client. And he hired me after we fucked,” Phebe corrected, taking the bottle and pouring it herself.

  “Same difference. How does this end well? I love you, but you are not easy to work with. Even Gandhi couldn’t perform at the level you do without stepping on some major toes. Only in your case, there are now strings attaching those smashed toes to your vagina. Major strings.”

  “It’s a month, Lorie. How could anything possibly go wrong in thirty days? I’ll have everything planned in two weeks.” Phebe circled her hands over the stacks of papers and binders spread around her to show just how hard she was already working. “And tie it up with a pretty little bow so all I have to do is hire the right subcontractors, and voilà! Easy peesy.” Phebe shook her head like it was a no-brainer. “And there is no way I will tire of any part of Brody being tied to my vagina with ‘major strings’…possibly ever.”

  Lorie sat down again, rubbing her lips together as she thought about Phebe’s situation. “I don’t know. This feels different to me.” She rested an elbow on her knee, her chin in her hand, and studied her friend. “You’re changing your rules for him.”

  “Well, life changed the rules on me, too. So…” Phebe shrugged and went back to her planning.

  “What are you getting out of the deal?”

  “Plenty.” Phebe nodded her head assuredly.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Can we drop this already?”

  “Sure. Just tell me one thing. If you’d met Brody at one of your high-powered networking events, would he be a fuck buddy or a plus-one?”

  “You assume he wants it to be more.”

  “You’re the perfect catch. Why wouldn’t he?”

  Phebe shook her head and felt the corners of her mouth involuntarily pull down. “The first morning-after he couldn’t get out of his apartment fast enough. Until I assured him I wasn’t looking for anything serious.”

  Lorie took a slow breath but didn’t say anything.

  “Listen, I need a distraction right now. Brody is exactly that. I get great sex. I get work to keep me busy. He gets great sex and a gorgeous building. If the timing were different, maybe. He’s a great guy. He’s smart and funny and confident enough to call me out on my bullshit. But it’s just not meant to be anything more than some innocent fun.”

  “At the end of thirty days, you, what, flip a coin? Call heads or tails?” Lorie sat back, curling her knees under her and taking a sip of wine.

  Phebe pushed the notebooks aside, knowing she wasn’t getting any more work done. She took her wine in hand and sat back, too, thinking. “No, that’s not what this is about. For either of us.”

  “Is he undateable?”

  “No, he’s great.”

  “Have you forgotten the singles scene in this city? Good guys, like really good guys, are an urban legend.”

  “Okay, fine.” Phebe threw her hands up in surrender. “We obviously have chemistry, and there’ve been a few times where I could see him being more. But I’ll be so busy when I start my new job. No man has ever been able to accept that my career comes first. And as amazing as he is, Brody won’t, either. It is what it is. The End.” Phebe extended her finger toward Lorie and drew an exclamation mark in the air, emphasizing her words.

  “Riiiiighhhht…” With a single tilt of her head, Lorie’s suspicions settled over Phebe’s excuses—casting them in all the doubt they deserved. Because now that she’d spilled the beans and started talking about things aloud instead of in her head where she was the only voice of reason, her arguments didn’t hold the water she thought they did.

  Could passionate sex remain emotionless? She wondered, tucking her wineglass into her chest and resting her chin on the rim. Brody was, by far, the best lover of her life. Even if it had been only one night, she knew that much. He was fun. They were fun. But could the fun remain without getting feelings involved?

  Hot sex requires an equally tempered spark. And a week together—even if it was friendly—wasn’t long enough to know if that spark flames out or if it burns brighter.

  Which begged the question—exactly what kind of fire was Phebe playing with?

  Chapter 13

  Brody

  It had taken everything in his power to stick to the plan and blow her off last night. Obviously. It was only Monday evening, and he was reading their last text exchange for the millionth time—

  PHEBE: Wanna play?

  BRODY: Some of us have to work tomorrow, Love…

  It was the excuse he’d used all week whenever she suggested they stop sexting and start sexing. Not that sexting Phebe wasn’t hot, too. But after you had the real thing, it was kinda like sipping on water when you really needed whiskey.

  Tuesday would mark the prerequisite week since they were last together. The seven days that—according to the Bro Bible—needed to pass before he should see her. Any guy worth his black book knew that rule. What few knew was that you couldn’t let the girl fuck up the time line, either. If you wanted it to work. Something he very much wanted. Seven days gave both parties time to think. Time for the raging hormones to cool and for you to figure out exactly what you wanted from the relationship. Annnd time to recall every hot-as-fuck detail until your man parts were about to explode. Even if you were so horny you couldn’t walk a straight line without tripping over your rock-hard cock, it was good to wait. Quality over quantity, and all.

  Sure, the blow-off was a total asshole move. And a lie. But if he wanted to catch a fish like Phebe, he had to convince her she wanted to get caught. And jumping at every crook of her alpha-female finger would never get her mouth on the hook. It would certainly get her mouth on other things…but, no, he couldn’t think about that if he intended to remain strong. Being aloof, elusive, just barely within reach if she stood on her tiptoes. A couple well-timed sexts to keep her interest. That was the only way to make a woman like Phebe need him like air.

  Of course he wanted to play with her. Obsessing over the way her perfectly round ass was molded to fit his hands alone was seriously fucking with life. But patience was a virtue. One he clung to with growing hatred for all the fucking games modern dating required.

  It made sleep an elusive beast. Maybe if he’d changed the sheets perfumed with their sex smells he could’ve gotten forty winks, but where was the fun in that? His late nights showed in dark circles ringing his eyes. Which is how he found himself in the body-care section of his neighborhood Whole Foods. Ten kilos of melatonin should do the trick. He had just typed “melatonin overdose” into a Google search when someone cleared their throat over his left shoulder. Someone standing way too close to be a stranger. The hell? It startled him badly enough to drop the damn phone. God bless OtterBox. Mid-bend to retrieve it, silently praying to the gods of butterfingered phone drops, he heard the someone speak, and he nearly dropped it again.

  “Wow,
Brody Cantrell in the flesh. Did they let you off for good behavior?”

  Brody turned to find Phebe, flushed, disheveled, and soaked in sweat. His tongue tingled to lick every drop off her. Regimented exercise was so not his thing. But seeing her post-workout made his balls beg for a gym membership. Those two dirty bastards needed to calm the fuck down and give him a minute to get his shit together.

  Slowly he wiped his screen with a thumb, checking for cracks. Then he slid his cellphone into his back pocket and greeted her with a naughty-as-all-get-out smirk on his face.

  “I’m a free man, Love. The pet aisle is pretty deserted, and I hear they encourage customers to play with the balls before buying.” He walked toward Phebe with an arm prepared to take her by the waist, fully expecting her to push him away. The anticipation of her touch pricked goose pimples all over him. Her hand met his chest, but instead of shoving him away, she fisted the front of it and pulled him closer. So close their lips almost touched. She opened her mouth slightly, longingly. His cock sprang to attention, urged to full salute by the two dirty bastards it hung out with. Was this really…

  Before he could finish the thought, her eyes narrowed and she shoved him away. Touché. She could give just as good as she got. And didn’t he know it. He stepped back, one hand raised in surrender, the other wiping at a grin while he chuckled under his breath.

  “Sorry, you had your chance. I’m not really feeling it now.” Phebe shrugged.

  “Have you been working out?” The answer was obvious, but Brody needed time to recover from their almost kiss. Thanks to his asshole cock and balls, his brain was blood-deprived.

  “Yeah, I was at a CrossFit class down the street.”

  “I didn’t know you lived around here.”

  “I don’t. I’m on Boulevard. Right before the park.”

  “So, you are stalking me.”

  “Ha-ha.” She wiped away a bead of sweat that trickled out of her hair and down her neck. “No. It used to be convenient for work.” She paused. Her eyes hit the floor. “I should probably find another gym.” There was a sadness in her words. One that kicked him straight in the gut. One that made him feel like a total douchebag for not going to her last night. Phebe was tough. Losing a job was tougher—no matter who you were.

  “I wouldn’t sweat it. Stewart Capital probably has a state-of-the-art gym in-house for employees.” Brody edged closer to her.

  Her face shot up to his, searching it with a bewildered look. No doubt she couldn’t believe he remembered her new employer’s name. Oh, he remembered all right. He remembered everything about her. She said nothing, but raised her hands to readjust a slipping topknot. It was such a simple thing, but to someone who’d spent hours rolling around in the sheets with her, it was everything. The air filled with her distinctive vanilla scent, with a hint of salt and sex. Sex. His dirty-bastard balls were at it again, tingling with testosterone and nostalgia.

  A tendril slipped from her hands and brushed over her flushed cheek. Brody caught it with a finger and, before he could stop himself, leaned in to tuck it behind her ear and inhaled deeply.

  “You smell good enough to eat.”

  “I’m disgusting.” Phebe giggled, but didn’t move away. He stepped even closer. If they had an audience, fuck it. This woman was his new addiction, and he needed a fix.

  “You’re perfection.” He leaned farther in to her. Still she didn’t move. His lips met the gentle curve of her neck and…finally…he tasted her. The move also put his nose at the perfect angle to nuzzle into the soft flesh under her ear. Another deep inhale and his senses were invaded with the same musky vanilla scent that lingered on his sheets. The one that had brought him here in the first place. Instinctively, his hands found her hips, pulled her against him and…And if he didn’t get away from her, they would both be banned from Whole Foods for life.

  “Sorry.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped away.

  Phebe put a hand on her hip, shifting her weight to the same leg, and up-downing him like she wanted to slap his face and suck his dick at the same time. God, the sexual tension between them was unbearable. Instead of doing either, she cleared her throat and stepped away.

  “I have your preliminary plans almost ready. Your building is very similar to one I renovated a few years ago. Assuming there aren’t any major surprises, it shouldn’t take me long to get them finalized. You do need to sign off on everything before I can submit them to the city.” She turned to a nearby display of ChapStick and picked one up, absently running a finger over it. “I would ask when you’re free, but…” Phebe raised an annoyed eyebrow and smacked her lips, only half teasing, still focused on the lip balm.

  Brody couldn’t help but smile. Phebe, it appeared, was exactly where he wanted her to be…pissed off and turned on. He swallowed his excitement and pulled up his phone’s calendar for cover. He was about to suggest they get together tomorrow afternoon when they were interrupted.

  “There you are!” A blond bombshell he didn’t recognize came bounding down the aisle toward them, her eyes glued on Brody. His stomach roiled. She was fucking gorgeous, but if she was a nameless barfly who had confused his kindness for caring and could possibly ruin things with Phebe, he was going to lose it. He shook his head wildly.

  “I just found the most amazing prosecco on sale. Wine’s on me this Sunday,” she spoke as if she wanted to share the blessed news with all of Whole Foods before stopping short at Phebe’s side. She, too, was covered in sweaty workout clothes. Turning from Phebe to Brody, and back again, she finally picked up on the sexual tension thickening the air. “Oh, shit,” she said. “Did I interrupt something? I’m always interrupting something.” She smacked her palm on her forehead, shook her head, and then lifted it with an apologetic grin. “I’m Lorie.” She offered her hand.

  “Brody Can…” He didn’t even finish his name before her mouth gaped wide. She certainly wasn’t dumb as the bricks that built her shithouse of a body. A body that lurched to the side under some unseen force that came from the direction of Phebe’s elbow. Lorie quickly put her jaw back in place and forced a cool, calm, collected vibe into her face.

  “Lorie is my neighbor,” Phebe offered.

  “Whatever, I’m your tenant. And I’m going to find us some cheese to go with this for Sunday Funday.” She absently inspected the label. “Bye, Brody. Hope I see you around.” Lorie breezed out of the aisle as quickly as she’d breezed in, throwing a wave over her shoulder before she disappeared.

  “Your friend knows about me. Does that mean you broke a fuck-buddy rule?” Brody playfully wrinkled his brow. He hoped like hell she had because there weren’t many he wanted left intact.

  “I don’t recall a rule saying that.”

  “Um, yeah. It was your idea, actually. We’re not supposed to talk about anything we do together.”

  “I didn’t give details.”

  “But you told her about me?”

  Phebe looked at the floor, rolling onto the sides of her feet as she fought the faintest of blushes from her cheeks. It was the most adorable thing he’d ever witnessed.

  “Well, yeah. I don’t do many walks of shame. It was pretty obvious.”

  Brody crossed an arm over his chest and hooked his hand under the opposite biceps. His other hand rose and thoughtfully stroked his beard. Rocking back on his heels, he studied the air right above her head.

  “Did we establish disciplinary action for breaking the rules?”

  Phebe landed a soft blow on his biceps. Her hand lingered.

  “Where were you?”

  Phebe’s question came zinging in from nowhere. Brody’s body tensed. His gaze fell to her. A hollow look had replaced her blush. In the second of silence that followed, they both found a reality neither one was ready for. Emotion had found its way into their game.

  In the next second, Phebe’s
eyes went wide, realizing she shouldn’t have asked it. Regret parted her lips and she began stammering for another answer. “I mean, I hope you…didn’t have to…work…that late…on a Sunday.” Trying to play it off with a bullshit reason, like she didn’t really care. But Brody did. He was glad to see she had some skin in the game, even if she didn’t. It was what the grueling week of waiting had been all about. Another one of her walls was coming down, so he decided to lower one of his as well.

  “I had to help my mom with some things from my father’s will.” It wasn’t a total lie. He had talked with Lona about handing over his father’s property…again. And though he hadn’t been helping her when Phebe’s text arrived, it seemed better to exaggerate a small lie than to cop to the truth.

  “Oh, my gosh. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know about your dad.”

  “Don’t be.” Brody waved away her alarm. “We didn’t exactly get around to it.”

  “Right.” Phebe’s anxiety was palpable, going from zero to sixty the moment he mentioned his father’s will. So, maybe his wall was too big. Her discomfort reddened her cheeks, had her shifting on her feet again, this time wringing her hands, too. She wasn’t a touchy-feely kind of girl. He knew that by the way she fucked. It didn’t bother him one bit. He reached for her arm to reassure her it was really okay. She backed away from the gesture. “It was great to see you. Call me. Or don’t. I’ve gotta…bye.” She spun on the heel of her trainer and took off down the aisle like a gold-medal winner.

  “What the hell?” Brody murmured under his breath as he watched her leave. Having a dead father wasn’t really something he lost sleep over. Phebe’s reaction to it, however, would definitely cause some lost sleep. Was she emotionally unavailable? Was she unsure of the proper fuck-buddy protocol in such a situation? Or was there the tiniest glimmer of hope that she was feeling something she didn’t know how to handle? Something he and his dirty-bastard balls were definitely feeling, too.