Love According to Science

by Kingsley, Claire

  We mostly talked about work, and Hazel brought up the motion capture study. In the back of my mind I once again wondered if that was really the reason she’d invited me over. Maybe it was. Maybe whatever crazy sexual connection we’d had was over.

  But it wasn’t over for me. The longer I spent here, surrounded by all things Hazel, the more I thought about taking her clothes off.

  “I made dessert,” she said after we’d both finished.

  She rose and gathered our plates and silverware. The clipped way she spoke and her stiff posture reminded me of the day we’d flown to the conference in Florida. I’d assumed the way she’d acted had been because she was mad at me.

  But I knew her better now. That strictly business act was a façade hiding the sex kitten she was on the inside.

  I grabbed the serving dishes and followed her into the kitchen. She set the plates in the sink and pulled the foil off a square pan.

  Brownies. She’d made brownies.

  I’d refused to eat her brownies that day at work. And she’d made them for me again.

  I didn’t know why that hit me in the chest the way that it did, but I set the dishes on the counter, grabbed her by the waist and spun her around.

  She met my kiss without hesitation, and the second our lips touched, fire raced through my veins. I was aching to touch her. Taste her. Feel her body against mine.

  I wanted her a hell of a lot more than I wanted brownies. And that was saying something.

  Her arms flew around my neck and she pressed herself against me. My hands fumbled with her clothes and I backed her out of the kitchen, heading for the couch, the bed, I didn’t care. All I knew was that I needed her. Now.

  We stopped near the couch and our mouths parted so we could pull shirts over our heads. I let mine drop and grabbed her, hauling her against me to kiss her again. The beast inside me roared to life. I was going to do a hundred dirty things to her. Fuck her senseless all over this apartment.

  My eyes flicked open for a second and I caught sight of Erwin, still sitting on the couch, staring at us.

  I froze with my hands tangled in her hair. The cat’s green-eyed gaze was unblinking.

  This wasn’t going to work.

  Hazel’s hand slid down and she grabbed my cock through my pants. I groaned. Fuck that cat. I picked her up, tossed her over my shoulder, and carried her to her bedroom.

  I kicked the door shut behind us and flipped her onto the bed. She bounced on the mattress and let out a little squeak. I quickly shucked my pants. Licking my lips in anticipation, I tore the rest of her clothes off, knelt next to the bed, and pushed her legs open.

  Groaning, I slid my tongue along her slit. There were no words for how good she tasted—better than any dessert she could ever bake. I teased her, dipping my tongue inside and dragging it out. Brushing her clit with quick strokes.

  She writhed against the sheets and ran her fingers through my hair. I found a rhythm she liked and followed her lead, flicking her clit with my tongue.

  Sliding two fingers inside her, I groaned again. She was hot and wet, her walls trembling with tension. I kept flicking her clit and pumped my fingers, curling them gently. She moaned louder, moving her hips.

  I loved doing this to her. Making her feel so good she shed her inhibitions and gave in. Moaned and bucked her hips and grabbed my hair.

  My dick was achingly hard, but I didn’t want to stop until she came. I paused just long enough to slide my fingers out and wipe her wetness on my cock.

  “I want to watch,” she said.

  I raised my eyebrows.

  Biting her bottom lip, she nodded.

  She scooted up the bed and I climbed on, kneeling in front of her. I grabbed the shaft and slid my hand up and down my hard length.

  Tentatively, Hazel’s fingers crept across her hip and over the crease of her thigh.

  “Fuck yes,” I said, my eyes locking on those tantalizing fingers. “Do it. Touch yourself.”

  I tugged on my cock while she dipped two fingers inside. Her legs fell open and she worked her fingers, rubbing her clit with the pad of her hand.

  Matching her rhythm, I stroked my hard length, her slippery wetness all over me. Up and down the shaft. I squeezed, feeling the tension intensify.

  Hazel was mesmerizing. Her cheeks flushed and her eyelashes fluttered. She fingered herself harder. Faster. Her eyes never leaving my cock.

  I could have easily kept going. Stroked it out to come all over her. But I needed more. I needed to fuck her.

  “Give me that pussy,” I growled.

  She stopped, grabbing onto me as I climbed on top of her and thrust myself inside.

  My eyes rolled back as my cock sank into her. Sweet fucking relief.

  Burying my face in her neck, I drove into her, my hips pumping. I wanted to devour her. Lick every inch of her skin.

  I fucked her hard, until the bed knocked against the wall and she dug her nails into my back. Still harder. She pulled her knees up to take me deeper, a demanding refrain of yeses breathed in my ear. I growled with every thrust, letting instinct and lust take over.

  By the time she started to come, we’d somehow turned sideways and her head was falling off the bed. Neither of us cared. I grabbed her hips, pulled her back, and thrust into her while her pussy spasmed around me.

  Still holding her hips, I pumped faster. My muscles tensed and all at once, the pressure broke. I exploded inside her, my cock throbbing. I groaned with relief, thrusting with every pulse, coating her slick walls.

  Claiming her.

  Owning her.

  She was fucking mine.

  Breathing hard, I stopped. Opened my eyes. Hazel brushed her hair back from her face and let out a contented sigh.

  “That was better than dessert,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically dreamy.

  I climbed off her, shaken by that moment of primal possessiveness. Where had that come from? “Definitely better than dessert.”

  She propped her head in her hand. “But do you still want some?”

  “Dessert?”

  “Yes. I made brownies.”

  I cracked a grin. “I saw that.”

  She smiled and got up to retrieve her clothes. “They should still be warm.”

  I got off the bed and grabbed my pants. There was a tiny hum of discontent in the back of my brain, but I pushed it aside. Delicious dinner, amazing sex, and now brownies? Couldn’t ask for much more than that.

  27

  Hazel

  “Ultimately the bond of all companionship, whether in marriage or in friendship, is conversation.” ~ Oscar Wilde

  The couple at the table across from me were on a first date—possibly second, but I was willing to bet first. There was a telltale hesitance about the way they looked at each other, experimenting with eye contact. His posture was relaxed and confident, but clearly interested. She’d become increasingly open in the few minutes I’d been watching. Now she was leaning closer, touching her hair, and smiling.

  It was so interesting to watch the tentative connection between them begin to strengthen. I wondered what would happen if they spent their date doing Corban’s questionnaire. Would they fall in love?

  “Oh my god, I thought I was late, but maybe I’m early,” Sophie said. She seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

  I blinked, tearing my attention away from the couple. “I believe you’re right on time, actually.”

  It was Saturday night and I was happily meeting my friends for drinks. Everly had just returned from her honeymoon and I was anxious to see her.

  “Wow. Go me.” She tried to hang her purse on the back of the chair, but the strap tangled around her wrist and she almost pulled the chair over backwards. “Oops. What were you looking at?”

  I helped her right the chair before it crashed to the floor. “Just observing the couple over there. They’re exhibiting nonverbal communication that indicates the potential for deepening intimacy.”

  “Aw, that’s cute
.” She managed to get her purse situated and sat. Her green dress buttoned up the front and suited her frame nicely.

  Everly arrived next, wearing a yellow and white dress, turquoise heels, and a sunny smile. “Hi, ladies.”

  I stood and hugged her, as did Sophie. Everly caught Sophie’s chair when it almost toppled over. Again.

  “Sorry,” Sophie said. “I swear, I use up all my coordination at work and by the time I leave, I’m a mess.”

  “No harm done,” Everly said and took her seat. “It’s so good to see you two. I missed you so much. No Nora yet?”

  “Not yet. And we missed you as well. How was your honeymoon?”

  “Amazing.” She smiled and her voice had a wistful quality. “I kind of wished we could stay forever, but it’s also nice to be back. Although I’m confused about this half-marathon thing. Sophie, did you really make a bet with Bella Ferndale?”

  “I did, and we’re going to crush them.”

  Everly raised her eyebrows. “Wow. I guess it’s a good thing I went running while we were gone. But I still have some catching up to do.”

  Nora rushed in, darting to our table. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder, then slid into a seat and leaned in. “He’s right behind me, but I wanted to warn you first. My brother’s in town.”

  “Uh-oh.” Everly met my eyes and we both looked at Sophie.

  “What?” Sophie asked. “Is there something wrong with your brother?”

  “Half-brother, and yes,” Nora said. “So many things.”

  “Don’t look him directly in the eyes,” Everly warned.

  I nodded. “And don’t believe a word he says.”

  “What?” Sophie asked.

  “I’m so sorry to spring this on you,” Nora said. “I had no idea he was in town until he showed up at my office. The good news is, I think he convinced my boss to give me a raise. The bad news is, he’s coming. I made him park my car, but he’ll be here any second.”

  “I’m so confused,” Sophie said.

  Nora glanced back again. “Jensen Lakes is the most charming, charismatic demon you’ll ever meet. Keep your wits about you, or he’ll have your panties in his pocket and you’ll be thanking him for the pleasure of being a one-night stand he’s already forgotten before you’ve gathered up your clothes and limped out of his room.”

  That was fairly accurate. The first time I’d met Jensen, years ago, I’d been halfway to his car before Nora had grabbed me and dragged me out of his grasp. It was like I’d been spellbound, willing to do anything he said.

  Without looking toward the front of the restaurant, I knew when he’d entered. You could feel it. A hush settled over the establishment, his presence making everyone—women and men—stop mid-conversation or mid-bite, and stare.

  It was remarkable. Had I not witnessed it myself on numerous occasions, I wouldn’t have believed one man could have such a widespread effect on everyone in his path.

  He was dressed in a slate gray suit—no tie—and wore it so well, it made you wonder if the concept of a man’s suit had been invented just for him. He had thick, dark hair, dark eyebrows, and dark brown eyes. So dark, you could imagine yourself falling into them. Sinking into oblivion while he—

  “Ladies,” Jensen said, a seductive grin stealing over his unfairly gorgeous features.

  Good god, his accent. He’d grown up in London and that accent of his was a deadly weapon. I wondered how he managed to get it through customs.

  Sweet-talked the customs agents, probably.

  I nudged Sophie with my elbow. She was practically drooling.

  “You remember Everly and Hazel,” Nora said, gesturing to the two of us. “And this is our friend Sophie.”

  He took Everly’s hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing the backs of her fingers. “Everly, darling, the ring on your finger both wounds and delights me. Congratulations to the man who gets the pleasure of you for the rest of his life.”

  There had been a time when that dramatic, yet admittedly swoony, speech and kiss would have left Everly blushing and fumbling for words. But perhaps marriage—or maybe simply Shepherd—had rendered her immune to Jensen’s considerable charm. She smiled, as if he was a normal person, not a walking sex god dripping pheromones. “Thank you, Jensen. It’s nice to see you again.”

  Jensen blinked at her, like he was surprised by her response, or lack thereof. But he quickly recovered, turning his attention to me. “Hazel, you look ravishing as always. What I wouldn’t give to be the man who gets to rip that proper blouse right off you.”

  Nora groaned.

  His gaze warmed me from the inside, but I was pleased to realize he wasn’t reducing me to a senseless mute. I held out my hand with a smile and even when he brought it to his lips, I didn’t feel as if I were melting into a puddle beneath the table.

  “Hello, Jensen. What brings you to Seattle?”

  He hesitated for a second, my hand still perched in his, his smile faltering. “Business, naturally. And the chance to see my wonderful sister and her friends, of course.”

  Nora sighed.

  Sophie squeaked when he turned to her.

  “Be strong,” I whispered. “You can do it.”

  “Well, hello,” Jensen said, a predator sizing up potential new prey. “Aren’t you delicious. Sophie, is it?”

  She nodded, her eyes wide.

  “Lovely to meet you.” He took her hand and kissed the backs of her fingers. “How would you like to come with me and—”

  “No.” Nora smacked his shoulder. “You are not taking her anywhere.”

  He rolled his eyes and smoothly slipped into a chair between Nora and Sophie. “I was merely going to suggest we go to the bar and ask for drink menus.”

  “No you weren’t.”

  He grinned again. “Maybe not.”

  “Behave yourself.”

  “Well, that’s bloody boring.”

  The server came and took our orders—martinis for the girls and a scotch on the rocks for Jensen. Everly told us a bit about her honeymoon. Sophie chatted about work, in between giggling glances at Jensen. Nora was working on a new series about high-end spa treatments for her column. Jensen said he was in town for business but didn’t elaborate. He seemed to mostly enjoy irritating his sister by trying to flirt with Sophie.

  “Can we discuss the important issue, here?” Everly asked, looking at me. “What’s happening with Corban?”

  “Very good question.” Nora raised her eyebrows and folded her hands.

  “This sounds juicy.” Jensen rested his arm on the table and leaned forward. “Who’s Corban?”

  “The guy she’s been hate-fucking,” Nora said.

  His mouth hooked in a grin. “I’m proud of you, darling. I love a good hate-fuck.”

  I pushed my glasses up my nose. “I don’t think that’s accurate anymore, nor can I continue calling him my nemesis.”

  “Is his dick game that good?” Nora asked.

  Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. “It’s not just that, although our physical encounters have been…”

  “Satisfying?” Sophie offered.

  “Exciting?” Every asked.

  “Mind-numbingly hot?” Nora said.

  “Yes, all three.”

  Nora’s lips curled in a smile. “Good for you, sweetie.”

  “But you don’t hate him anymore?” Sophie asked.

  I sighed. “No. Not at all.”

  Nora clicked her tongue and shook her head. “There goes another one.”

  “I haven’t gone anywhere, and certainly not the way of dating, engagement, and marriage, as your tone suggests. We’re no longer enemies—in fact, we work quite well as a team—and yes, we’ve slept together. Several times. But that’s all.”

  “So no more hate-fucking,” Nora said. “Now you’re friends with benefits?”

  I thought about that for a second. Was that an accurate descriptor of our current relationship? “Yes. I think so. Maybe.”

  “It should be
quite easy to tell,” Jensen said. “Are you friends?”

  “Yes, I’d say we are now.”

  “And you’re having sex?”

  I nodded.

  “But you’re not dating,” he said.

  “We did have dinner together the other night. But it wasn’t a date.” I paused again, my mixed feelings—and confusion—over Corban swirling to the surface. “Actually, it might have been a date. I’m not entirely sure. These things are so much easier to determine when you’re observing the behavior of others instead of experiencing them yourself.”

  “Well, tell us about dinner,” Everly said. “Did you just happen to eat together because it was convenient and then it started to feel like a date? Or did he ask you to dinner but you’re still not sure if he meant it as a date?”

  “Neither. I invited him to my apartment and cooked him dinner.”

  “Sounds pretty date-like,” Sophie said.

  Jensen lifted a shoulder. “Maybe. Or it was a booty call with the added bonus of a meal. After all, he didn’t ask you out, but the other way around.”

  Nora rolled her eyes again. “Since when does the man have to be the one to ask for it to count as a date?”

  “He doesn’t.” He took a sip of his drink and I nudged Sophie under the table. She was staring at him again. “But if he’d asked her to dinner, it would undoubtedly have been a date. A man looking for no-strings sex isn’t going to feed her first. And if she’d asked him out, but they’d gone to a restaurant, that’s also clearly a date.”

  “But since she invited him over to her place, dinner could have been her excuse to get him there for sex,” Nora said. “I hate to admit it, but you have a point.”

  “Really?” Everly asked. “A booty-call dinner?”

  “Certainly.” Jensen raised his glass. “And cheers, darling—if you’re feeding him and fucking him without commitment, he’s earned my envy.”

  “Did he think it was a date?” Sophie asked.

  “I’m not entirely clear on that, but I don’t think so.”

  “And he’s never asked you out, has he?” Everly asked. “So you don’t have reason to believe he wants to get serious?”