Flirty Thirty (Nerdy Thirties Book 1)

by Cassie Mae

  I look around the room, purely for instinctive reasons. It’s been a while since I’ve done this. So long in fact, that poor B.O.B has a layer of dust on him. I haven’t been this aroused since I saw a preview of Alexander Skarsgard in that very shirtless movie he starred in.

  I let out a huff, grabbing at the hem of my tank top and pulling it over my head. Tom’s sleepy growl vibrates the bed, reminding me that I’m not exactly alone. Not that my cats care if I play with myself, but I still can’t get into the zone knowing that at any second a ball of fur could rub up against my leg.

  Completely topless, I build a pillow fort around each of my cats, leaving me very little room—but enough room—to plop down on my back and run my hands over my bare stomach.

  His hands are rougher, I think, disappointed that my too small and too soft hands can’t convince me that he’s the one who will be doing the touching. I’d also like to think that he wouldn’t be frowning at the plushness of my stomach, the padding around my waistband, the stretch marks that we both know didn’t come from a baby. I’ve always considered myself on the plus side, and if I’m being honest, I’ve contributed it to my single status. Telling myself that I don’t want marriage anyway helps make that decision feel in my control.

  Ugh, this is why I’m no good at pleasuring myself. I can’t shut my damn mind off long enough to get there.

  I let my fingers trail up to my breasts, taking a deep breath and letting it out. My mind cleanses all the insecure details and drifts off to Cooper and his heavenly blue eyes and the way his mouth moved when he called me gorgeous.

  I circle a nail around a budding nipple, knowing that I can’t quite imagine it as Cooper’s finger, but I can imagine he’s in the room watching. That he’s at the foot of the bed, knuckles white as he clutches the bed frame, his boxer shorts strained and aching as I bring my other hand up to tease and pull the twin.

  A hitch in my breathing makes me realize how loud I’m being. A rush of panic that he is actually hearing me pulls me right out of the fantasy,and not a moment too soon either, because at the buzz of my phone, a skittish kitten leaps onto my face.

  “Kaff,” I muffle through her fur, praising a deity that she didn’t use her claws. I wriggle her off of me and roll over the pillow barrier I made. While grappling for my phone, I notice that I’ve been tossing, turning, and attempting to pleasure myself for nearly an hour.

  Still trying to sleep, or is it just me?

  A swoop in my stomach has me sitting back up on my knees. I catch my reflection in the glass of the balcony doors, my face and topless half lit up by my phone. I can almost imagine Cooper knocking it out of my hands and pressing me into the mattress with the hard plate of his chest.

  It is definitely not just you.

  He doesn’t reply back—well, it’s only been ten, fifteen seconds—but I’m so ready to break some rules that I toss my phone on the bed and search around for my top. I pull it out from under my fat cat and slip it over my head on the way to the door.

  I don’t care if I said I get my own room. I don’t care that sex was not on either of our agendas tonight. I need some damn sleep and some damn relief and it seems the only way I’m going to get it is—

  “Oof!” I squeak at the same time I hear a low, baritone grunt. My body rocks back from the warm wall of muscle I’ve run smack into, and a hand reaches for my arm before I topple to my butt.

  Cooper lets out a laugh, the warmth of his touch pebbling my breasts. I hide my face in his chest, laughing quietly with him, and only half realizing that there is no need to be quiet.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” he says through his laughter. His fingers brush through my hair and tilt my face up to his. There isn’t a single moment of hesitation before he drops his lips to mine.

  13

  Sweet Relief

  “I thought…” I say, my voice breathless and broken between our anxious lips. “I thought… sex… wasn’t… on the table.”

  His lips turn up against mine, the hard plate of his chest pressing my back flat against the wall. “It’s not,” he breathes. “But we said nothing about the floor.”

  A lust-filled giggle slips out, the warm air around us zapping as his fingers trail down my neck. His palms cup my breasts as his tongue slides between my lips. My giddiness is suddenly silenced, replaced by the rush of heat in my lower abdomen. My knees buckle, my back arching into his touch. He’s quickly erasing our surroundings, turning me into putty in his very capable hands.

  There’s a palm at my waist, tugging, pulling, fighting with the flimsy shirt I’m wearing. His touch is consuming all my thoughts; I’m only half aware of where my own hands are, though every flex of his hard muscle against my fingertips reminds me of the chiseled, cut man I’d been attempting to fantasize about in bed just moments earlier. Another rush of warmth fills between my weakening legs. Am I even still standing? More like sunk into the carpet beneath our feet, and in the back of my mind I know this was against my self-imposed rules. I know it. I fight it, but then his fingers tuck into my waistband, and he gasps, “Five seconds.” His lips are at my ear. “Five seconds is all the control I have.” And because I only possess two seconds of control, I grasp his hand and curve his fingers into my neglected nethers before he can finish his countdown.

  He’s warm, almost unbearably so. The scruff along his face is scratching, tickling, taking me to a place I haven’t been to in years. Oh yes, years. My nails scratch up his taut arm as his fingers tantalize and torture in the most pleasurable of ways. I pull at his hair, breathe into his open mouth and speak a language I’ve yet to master with him, yet we both seem rather fluent in it. His heavy-lidded eyes drift up to mine, and a smile teases at the corners of his mouth. He watches me come absolutely undone in his arms, a look close to that of someone winning the lottery etched into every line of his face. A rush of heat cascades down my entire being, from crown to pinky toe. I’m clawing at him, blinking stars out of my eyes, perspiring from the warmth of his breath on my neck. My mind is beyond comprehensible thought, and he says, “Hold onto me,” and I somehow find the ability to comply, bringing my hand around his very impressive arousal.

  His eyebrows rise, and a small laugh slips from between his panted breaths. “Not what… I meant…” he breathes, but doesn’t stop me as I dive under the waistband of his boxers and reciprocate the favor he’s so aptly giving me.

  I’m losing it. My mind, my body, my everything. I feel myself rising to the peak of uncontrollable thoughts and actions, and my mouth connects with his shoulder, my teeth sink into the warm cotton of his shirt, and gone am I from this world.

  “I’m sorry,” I hear from somewhere outside of my body. “Damn it, I liked that one, too.”

  I shake my head, mind foggy as I fall back down into my feet. I’m tangled around Cooper, the hand I have wrapped around him moist with his release. I allow myself a small chuckle of amusement at being so far gone I hadn’t noticed until now that he’d been out of this world with me.

  He braces himself using the wall, caging me in. He shakes his head, his blond locks wet with exertion as if we’d been doing a more strenuous workout than just biceps and forearms.

  “You weren’t attached to it, were you?” he asks, dark blue eyes flicking to my shoulder. My brow furrows as I follow his gaze, then my mouth pops clean open at the sight of my tank top torn and hanging loosely off of my right breast.

  “How dare you,” I tease, prying my arm from the stickiness of our tight grasp and lifting the wardrobe casualty with my clean hand. The reminder that I wasn’t too concerned about his clothing either has my gaze moving to his shoulder, and I bite back a grin as I nod to it. “I at least had the decency to rip on the seam.”

  An echoed confusion crosses his face as he plucks the material off his skin and examines the teeny tiny hole I chewed in that very sexy white tee. I feel a giddy laugh erupt from his chiseled stomach still pressed with mine.

  “Remind me to wear clothing every time thi
s happens.” His joking and post-pleasure eyes meet mine. “I’d rather you tear through this than skin.”

  “Likewise.” The implication that this isn’t just a one-time occurrence isn’t lost on me, and a rush of heat slides down my neck, making me feel as if I need to lie down before I fall down.

  Sensing the change in my spirits, he releases his hold on me, slowly pulling his arm back and taking a step toward the banister. The rush of cold air wakes me up enough to realize just how very naughty this was, and how even though it’s a bad idea, I’d like to be that naughty with him again. And again. Maybe once more after that.

  After tucking himself back inside his boxers, he reaches up to scratch the back of his head, and I admire the muscles in his arms and the talented tendons that run into his hands. I don’t believe I’ve gotten off on a hand job alone unless it was just me. It could very well be attributed to the fact that it’s been a very long time since Ms. O’s been around, and Cooper is pretty much my blond-haired fantasy man.

  “Think you can sleep now?” he asks with a lift of his lips. Even in the dark shadows of the hallway, I can see the dip in his cheeks from his laugh lines.

  “After I wash off your man juice.” I hold out my hand.

  His laughter is bolting with genuine surprise and a bit of embarrassment. He closes the gap he put between us enough to kiss me sweetly on the lips. “Go out with me tomorrow?”

  “Are you always going to ask me that question when my mind is otherwise occupied?”

  “I’m three for three so far, so yes.”

  I push back on his chest. “I’d like to stay in,” I say, careful not to say yes, but not to say no either.

  “Done.” He kisses me once more, letting this one linger. “Sleep well… you know, after you get my ‘man juice’ off of ya.”

  I wipe my hand on the butt of his boxers with an evil glint in my eye. I shrug at his mock shocked expression. “What? You’re washing them anyway, right?”

  He shakes his head at me, boldly hooking his thumbs into the waistband and pulling his boxers to the floor. He stoically marches to his room, completely bottomless. My joke is rewarded with a great view of his perfect ass that will most likely star in my dreams tonight, if I manage to get any sleep at all.

  ***

  A low rumbling sound rouses me from a vivid, yummy dream, and I blink myself into the present, heart thumping hard under a borrowed t-shirt. Tom picks up his head as I sit up, stretching his arms out as he too wakes up to the sound of a motor streaming in through my open balcony doors.

  Once my heart has calmed and my mind has woken up, I wipe away the sweat from my silly sleepy behavior and scoot from under the fluffy comforter. Kat jerks when I step out onto the balcony, eying me before turning back toward the birds in the very leafy tree that stands next to the house. I cover a yawn, lean on the railing, and gaze out at the unconventional alarm clock.

  Cooper’s blond head comes into focus across the very large backyard, bouncing as he tries to turn the riding lawn mower around. A sleepy laugh flits from my lips when he gets out of one position only to get stuck in another. Judging by his body language, I imagine some mighty cursing is happening under the sound of the mower.

  Tom runs his spine against my ankle, and I nod. “I know, right? You’d think this place had a gardener or twenty.”

  I shrug and head back inside, glancing at the clock on the nightstand before flicking the alarm off. Not bothering to close the windows since I’m three stories up and the nearest neighbor is about fifty acres away, I strip down and head into that luxurious shower, really taking the time to enjoy it. Last night I was more preoccupied with Cooper’s text messages than the four stream jet shower. Now… that showerhead sure looks like it wants to get to know me on an intimate level, but maybe I’ll save that until it’s seen me naked at least three times.

  Knowing my anal tendencies about punctuality, I regretfully turn the hot, relaxing shower off about twenty minutes in, wrap myself up in a fluffy blue towel, and step into the massive bedroom that—if I’m not careful—would convince me into marrying Cooper on the spot just to own one of these. The sound of the mower still carries into my room, louder now, and when I peek outside I find Cooper a stone’s throw away from the house. Looks like he’s finally gotten the hang of that thing.

  I wolf whistle, not sure if he’ll even hear me, but his head crooks up, and with his eyes locked on my very sexy towel-on-the-head look, he runs the mower straight into the fence around the basketball court. Even with all the noise from the mower, I catch the curse he drops that time.

  Laughing—and a little flushed from the unexpected reaction—I turn back inside and get dressed in my realtor best. There are a few showings I have set up for today, one of my buyers is signing on his new house, and I promised Sarah a lunch to divulge all my dirty secrets of the biz as she moves from promising intern to passing her test. While all of that was enough to make me anxious to get to work a week ago, I’m now anxious to get there only to come back here and see what Cooper cooks up for me for our stay-in date tonight. I could go for a nice cuddle on the couch while binge-watching Netflix, with a side of orgasm, please. For all his ridiculous notions, I will give him that skipping the hoops a person has to jump through just to get to the sex is a very good idea. He wants “marriage?” Watch out, buddy, I will give you marriage. I don’t even plan on turning on any beauty tools when I get back from work.

  I slip on my Michael Kors heels, reminding myself that I’ll need to paint my toenails soon since we’re in sandal weather and I can’t wait to put those suckers on. Then again, if I’m not going to worry about making myself super adorable twenty-four seven, then perhaps I won’t.

  “I’ll see you guys tonight,” I tell my kitties. “Behave, you got me? No pissing on any of those sheets just because you don’t think they’re yours yet.” Yeah, dogs aren’t the only ones to do that. I narrow my eyes at Tom, his lazy green eyes gazing back as if saying he’ll do whatever he wants whenever he wants. I point a finger to emphasize my point. “I’m talking to you, Professor Grumpy Pants.”

  I continue “the look” until I’ve shut them in, hoping that they’ll use the litter box I put on the balcony and not the $300 loafers in the closet.

  Skipping right past the kitchen, I head outside, keys in hand, ready to make a stop at Buy a Bagel for breakfast. Cooper turns around the corner, wiping the sweat from the nape of his neck with a towel. His lips curl up into that knee-melting smile, and he nods to my wittle VW.

  “You heading out?”

  “Ain’t no rest for the wicked.”

  He closes the distance between us rather quickly for a man who looks like he’s just run a marathon. Pressing a soft palm at the small of my back, he pulls me in enough for a light peck on the lips that while it’s so simple, it steals my breath away. I refuse to believe that sensation continues after a couple has been together past the initial spark, though the thought does come into my mind that maybe there is something to be said about simplicity.

  My head tilts as he pulls away, and I let my curious gaze float up to his. “Can I ask you something?”

  His eyebrow twitches up. “Yeah.”

  “Why are you mowing the lawn?”

  His expression relaxes as he runs a hand over his growing beard. “I like doing things myself first. No sense in paying someone to do something I can do.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Hmm,” he mocks my non-response. I roll my eyes and put a teasing hand into his very hard stomach.

  “Bye.” And just to show that I’m taking my role as fake wife seriously, I push up on my toes and give him another simple peck. See how he does with a not-enough kiss.

  Satisfied with the surprise in his eyes, I slide my sunglasses down and take my spot behind the wheel. Thank heavens I’ve got a busy schedule to distract me from how long it’ll be until I can tease him again.

  14

  Crowns and Frowns

  I open the door to the huge mansion
, anticipation of seeing Cooper again after a very long day making my hands a little shaky on the knob. My tummy tickles are somewhat quieted when I walk into a giant smoke cloud.

  “Cooper?” I ask, coughing through the fog. I duck down below the smoke line, squinting toward the kitchen, expecting to see giant yellow and red flames.

  “It’s all good!” he calls back. “I’m cool, I got this.”

  The high-pitched chirp of the smoke detectors start going off, and I slap my hands over my ears as I wade through the thick cloud. Cooper is jumping up to press the alarm off, dishtowel thrown over his shoulder and a questionable stain on his blue button-down.

  I rush over to open a window, then quickly unlock the back patio doors and spread them wide. Cooper takes the towel draped over his shoulder and starts using it to direct the smoke outside. As it dissipates, I catch the open oven and a full stove top—the sources of the unfortunate air around us.

  “Didn’t want to hire a chef either, huh?”

  His nose wrinkles. “I don’t suppose you’d like to help me out?”

  A smile creeps onto my lips, and I slither past him to see what the damage is. “What were you trying to make?” I ask, lifting a brow at the blackened indiscernible food.

  “Chicken Parmesan.” He runs a hand through his blond locks. “Apparently it was a little too advanced for this bachelor.”

  “Oh, but you aren’t a bachelor right now.” I give him a pointed look as I test several different drawers before finding an apron. His eyes watch me with careful concentration as I tie it around my waist. I’m extremely thankful that it fits. How embarrassing would that be if I couldn’t get the sucker into a bow while attempting to look all domestic?

  I stand up straight, settling my hands on my hips. In the back of my mind I thought that rocking the “mom” look my sister usually dons would give him a hard dose of reality—this isn’t flattering on anyone, let alone someone who just got home from an achingly long day at work. However, judging by the dazed expression that has settled on his face, you’d think I’d taken clothing off, not put more on.