“Holy crap balls.” I loosen my grip on the back of his neck. My fingers are cramped from holding on so tight, and a line of crescent-shaped marks decorate his skin. “That was—”
“Spectacular?” Pierce rolls the condom off, ties it at the end, and tosses it in the trash in the corner.
So much damn ego. I don what I hope is a bored expression and lift a shoulder. “I was going to say it was okay.”
He grins, tongue caught between his teeth. He runs his palms up the outside of my thighs. “I think you’re my new favorite person.”
I laugh. “So you have a thing for women who minimize your sexual prowess?”
“I have a thing for women with nice boobs.” He cups the right one and slides a hand into my hair. Tilting my head to the side, he kisses me, slow and sweet, discordant to the dirty sex we had.
The dryer buzzes under me, and I jump at the sound. “Wow. That’s some good timing.”
Pierce backs off and helps me down. My tailbone is a little sore from the pounding I took on the top of a metal surface, but I’m more sated than I’ve ever been in my entire life, so I’ll take the bruise. I could sleep for ten hours after that.
I brace myself on his chest, testing out my legs. So far they’re holding my weight, although they’re definitely wobbly.
“You okay there?”
“I’m good, just relearning how to use my legs after being turned into a sex pretzel.” I move to the side while Pierce retrieves our warm, dry clothes.
I stumble a bit as I shove a foot into the leghole of my panties. Pierce’s warm palms settle on my hips. “Need some help getting dressed?”
“I can manage, but thanks.” I lean against the washing machine for stability. Pierce takes it upon himself to fasten the clasp on my bra. I wouldn’t have bothered with it at all, but he seemed intent on being helpful in some way. He drops a kiss at the top of my spine as he adjusts the straps, then hands me my shirt before he puts his own on.
Once we’re both dressed in mostly fresh, but oceany-smelling clothes—ones I’ll be out of as soon as he leaves—we stand facing each other.
He stuffs his phone in his pocket and gives me one of those grins accompanied by a head tilt, as if he’s waiting for me to make the next move. I don’t know what the next move is.
This isn’t something I make a habit of doing. In fact I’ve never done something like this. I don’t pick up random guys and sleep with them in laundry rooms. I go on dates. I suss a guy out and make sure he’s not some crazed psychopath before I sleep with him—and I rarely ever get to that point. Marley is the one who has one-night stands. All of this is on fast-forward for me. And he’s too hot for his own good or mine. This was such a bad idea. Panic over what I’ve done sets in.
“I have to be up early tomorrow,” I blurt.
The smile on Pierce’s face grows wider. “Is that you asking me to leave?”
“Uh…” The answer to that is yes, but now I feel like a jerk. He was very attentive. I came a lot. It still doesn’t make inviting him to spend the night a good idea. “I mean, you don’t have to go. We could have a drink or something?”
It doesn’t come out sounding very confident, or certain.
“But you’d prefer I leave.” He’s not asking.
I blow out a breath. “I, uh, don’t usually do this.” I run a palm down my face, covering my mortified expression. “That sounds so horribly cliché.”
Pierce chuckles, low and deep. I find myself barricaded by his arms, one hand planted on either side of me, body close but not touching as he leans in. The tip of his nose brushes mine. “What part of this don’t you usually do, Rian? The dinner part of the evening? The romantic walk on the beach? The hot sex? The kicking a guy out after you get what you want from him?”
Why does he have to be so intense? And why is he calling me out like this? “Well, the dinner part was kind of accidental, wasn’t it? And the beach part wasn’t really as romantic as it was embarrassing for me. And if you must know, usually I have sex in a bed, not a laundry room, and there are typically several dates before the nudity happens. And I’m not kicking you out, I’m just saying I need to be up early.” I don’t want him to go, which I think could be a problem. I might actually like him. But he’s exactly what I avoid. There is a reason I go out with the Terrys of the world. I need to think, and him being here doesn’t help me do that.
“If you have to be up early, why ask if I want to stay for a drink?”
“Are you always like this?”
“Like what?”
“So pushy and confrontational.”
“You think I’m being confrontational?”
“Is it possible for you to answer a question directly?” He’s right up in my space again, his face only inches from mine. His lips are close. I’d like to shut him up by kissing him. But I’m not sure that’s smart. I worry that I’ll end up naked again—definitely by choice and not coercion.
“I like you.”
“That’s not an answer to any of the questions I asked.”
“I’m too busy staring at your mouth to remember what the questions were.” He kisses me again before I can protest. It’s another minute or two of tongues slow dancing before he finally disconnects. Embarrassingly, I follow his lips, trying to keep them glued to mine.
“I actually have to get back to my place. My dog, Trip, needs to be let out and I can’t trust my brother to do that, so you don’t need to worry about inviting me to stay for drinks, or a sleepover, or whatever.”
I huff a quiet laugh. Of course he’s been playing with me. He doesn’t want to spend the night; he just wanted the invitation.
“I’ll be around tomorrow afternoon. Will you?”
“I should be.” I try to sound nonchalant instead of eager. I’m not sure I’m successful.
“Great. I’ll see you on the beach, then?”
“Sure.”
When he moves out of my personal space, I finally feel like I can breathe again. I follow him out of the laundry room and down the hall. I stop short when Marley comes into view, a forkful of pasta halfway to her mouth.
Her eyebrow is raised as her gaze moves from Pierce to me. She drops the fork in the Styrofoam container and props a fist on her hip. “I so called this.”
Dear Embarrassment,
I’m breaking up with you. Forever.
No love,
Rian
CHAPTER 11
EMBARRASSMENT FOREVER
RIAN
“Okay, well, thanks for checking on the dryer. Sorry that you had to come here so late!” I say, very loudly.
Marley snorts and Pierce barks out a laugh.
“I’ll see myself out then. Enjoy the leftovers.” He nods to Marley before turning to me. “I hope the dryer keeps doing its job.”
I follow him to the patio door. My palms are sweaty and my face is surely the shade of a beet. He turns as he steps out onto the deck. “So this is how you’re playing it?”
“I panicked. I told you, this isn’t how I usually do things.”
“That makes two of us. I don’t usually get kicked out, especially not before the post-coital snuggles.”
What does it say about me that I’m kicking out the man I’ve had the best sex of my life with less than fifteen minutes after the act is over? I’m having regrets all over the place. And he’s a snuggler? I thought all men hated after-sex snuggles. I avoid commenting on that, though. “You said you had to check on your dog. I figured you wanted an invitation to stay to stroke your already enormous ego, but then you’d already have a reason to say you had to leave anyway.”
“I was trying to make you feel better about this.” He motions between us.
I bring my fingers to my lips and start to bite my nail, but realize it makes me look anxious—which I am—and they’re dirty from being in the sand not that long ago. Plus, they smell like sex, so I drop them and clasp them in front of me instead.
“Look at you.” He moves in.
> My feet stay where they are, but the rest of my body angles away. “What’re you doing?”
“Trying to kiss you goodnight before I leave. Unless you’ve changed your mind and decided you want me to stay.”
I purse my lips, and he gives me that damn smile again. So cocky. So knowing.
“It’s all right. I get it. You have an early morning, and there’s no way you’ll be able to keep your hands to yourself if I’m in bed with you.”
“You are such an—”
Before I can finish the sentence, his palm curves around the side of my neck, thumb caressing the edge of my jaw, and he tips my chin up. It all happens in less than a second. And then his lips are on mine, tongue sweeping out, aggressive for a few strokes before he disengages, throwing me completely off-kilter. “Don’t worry. Next time we’ll get to cuddle.”
I push on his chest. “Who said there’s going to be a next time?”
“Trust me, hotness, there’ll be a next time. See you tomorrow.” He backs away and gives me a final departing wave, then disappears down the stairs.
“Oh my God. That man is unbelievable.”
“I should’ve put money on that.”
I turn around, trying to come up with some witty retort, but I’ve got nothing. She totally called it, and I made Pierce do the walk of shame. Well, it was more swagger than walk, but still, he’s gone and he was totally right, about everything. How stupid am I?
“Whatever’s going on between the two of you is like pheromone chemical warfare.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Being in the same vicinity as the two of you is like…” She struggles to find the right words. “… like tripping on ecstasy while shooting opiates.”
“You’ve never done either of those things.” At least I don’t think she has. She better not have or we have issues.
“Well, the way you two are when you’re near each other is exactly what I imagine it would be like.” She stuffs another forkful of noodles in her mouth.
I make a huge show of stretching and yawning. “Well, I’m going to bed. See you in the morning!”
“Whoa, wait a damn second, you need to explain what happened here. Based on what I overheard, you got the boning of your life and from the look of things, you made him leave. I want some details.”
“If you overheard, you don’t need details. We have an early morning. I need sleep and him staying would prevent that. Plus, he needs to take care of his dog.”
“This is such bull. What was he saying about seeing you tomorrow? Are you setting up a date for boning round two?”
“I’m not going to sleep with him again.” I’m totally going to sleep with him again if the opportunity arises. I already know it. That was too good not to repeat. The cuddling I don’t know about, though—it leads to talking and talking changes things. It blurs lines and pushes boundaries. It makes it difficult to stay on the right side of casual.
“Should I remind you now that you said you weren’t going to sleep with him in the first place?”
“Well, I mean it this time.” I don’t mean it at all.
“A hundred buck says you do.”
“I’m not making bets with you about this.”
“Because you know you’ll lose.”
“I’m going to bed and you should do the same.” I walk down the hall, ending the conversation.
* * *
The next morning my alarm goes off at seven forty-five. Because our job often requires us to be out of the house late in the day, and into the evening, I’m not much of an early riser, but it’s a showing day and it’s making me nervous. Most of the time I’m not involved in the showing part, so nerves aren’t an issue. However, when we have multiple showings in one weekend, which we’ve been doing more of lately, I’ve become part of the whole process.
And this time I’ll be front and center. As we get closer to having our own Hamptons beach house to flip, which will hopefully be soon, I need to assess what people are looking for and take note.
I pass by Marley’s room on the way to the kitchen to make coffee. She’s still asleep. I leave her where she is while I brew the coffee, aware if I wake her before it’s ready, she’ll be a complete bear.
Muscles I didn’t know I have ache. I eat a banana while I wait, hoping the potassium will keep them all from seizing. Sitting on the stool is uncomfortable on account of the sex last night. I’d grab a cushion from the other side of the room if it didn’t entail standing or walking. Dear Lord, that man knows how to use foreplay as a weapon.
I shake my head and focus on the information for the house we’re selling, reviewing all the important details. I’m halfway through the pot of coffee when Marley comes storming out of her bedroom, a rumpled, angry mess. “Motherhumper! That bastard!”
“What’s wrong?”
“That shady sonofabitch.” She viciously punches buttons on her phone. “He thinks he can get away with a stunt like this, he’s got another thing coming.” She paces the length of the kitchen. She has to push her wild, knotted hair out of the way to get the phone to her ear. “You can’t pull a house off the market less than six hours before I’m supposed to show it.” She stops pacing and props a fist on her hip. “Where’d you hear that and what does it have to do with anything?” She makes her angry, pursed-lips face. “That doesn’t absolve you—I can’t—do you know what a pain in the ass this is going to be? How many phone calls I’m going to get? Fine, yes. We’ll be there in an hour. You better make this worth my while.”
She ends the call, tosses her phone on the table, and throws her hands up in the air. “Stupid wishy-washy men.”
“Can you please explain what’s going on? What just happened?”
“The open house today is cancelled. The seller is taking the house off the market.”
“What? We need that sale.” Without it, it will delay our own flip.
“I know.” She runs her hand through her hair, but it gets caught in the knots. “Fuck a duck!” she yells and then struggles to free her fingers from the mess.
“He said he has a solution, but won’t say what it is over the phone. I don’t know if this guy is hosing us or not, but we need to get over there and deal with it.” She whirls around and stomps down the hall muttering, “Face-humping cocksmack. I hate every penis on this planet.”
I hope this guy really does have a workable solution, otherwise Marley may castrate him. She may be the more face friendly of the two of us, but if she feels like she’s being screwed over, she’s a heck of a lot pricklier than me.
I head to my own room to shower and get dressed. As the numbers-and-paperwork girl I lean toward a more businesslike appearance at these things, but since it’s a beach house, Marley thought it might be better to go the sundress route. So I picked out a cream sundress and a pair of strappy sandals in a floral print for a burst of color.
Marley appears twenty minutes later fresh-faced in a bold coral dress with white heels and a giant necklace that looks like it weights fifty pounds and draws a lot of attention to her chest area. I’m certain this is purposeful.
“I have the contracts. You have everything else?”
I pat the messenger bag hanging from my shoulder. “Sure do.”
“Let’s go. This jerkoff better not screw us out of our commission or he’s going to be short a set of balls when I’m done with him.”
I grab the keys from the counter before she can—there’s no way I’m letting her drive, not when she’s in this bad of a mood.
I put the address in my phone. We could walk there in ten minutes based on the GPS coordinates, but we’re both wearing heels, so no thanks to that. Also, my thighs are killing me. “Wait, I thought we were selling 105 today.”
“We were. The seller lives down the beach. We’re going there.” She mutters profanity under her breath. The drive to the house is short, and we pass the bungalow we’re supposed to put on the market tomorrow, but we won’t have as good a gauge on asking price n
ow. I signal right and pull into the driveway of a gorgeous two-story beachfront house with a beautifully manicured lawn and stunning gardens.
I have a strange sense of déjà vu as Marley wobbles unsteadily down the beautiful cobbled walkway. Maybe the seller wants to move into 105 and unload this place instead. I can only imagine what we’d get for this one, even though both properties on either side are a little rundown and out of date. This place is closer to the Mission Mansion, so it’s incredibly desirable.
Marley hits the doorbell and a soft chime tinkles from inside the house. When it doesn’t open two seconds later, she jabs it again.
I bat her hand away. “Don’t be antagonistic. We might be able to persuade him to change his mind.”
Marley gives me the side-eye, takes a deep breath, and nods. “Put your game face on,” she says as a shadow appears in the doorway and the lock turns.
A wide smile spreads across Marley’s face as the door swings open. Standing in the foyer is a surfer hippie. Well, maybe a wanna-be surf hippie. His shoulder-length, dark blond hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and his semi-overgrown beard is supposed to scream I don’t care, but it’s too clean around the edges for that. He’s wearing a pair of what looks like pajama pants and a button-down white shirt. Except it’s completely unbuttoned. He has a nipple ring. I’m 100 percent certain the necklace he’s wearing is woven out of hemp, and if someone asked him, he wrestled the shark who belongs to the tooth dangling from it. If I had to guess, he’s likely a fan of freeballing.
Marley steps into the foyer and leans forward, kissing him on his scruffy cheek with a loud mwah. “Lawson! It’s so lovely to see you again.”
He returns the embrace and the kiss on the cheek. “You sure about that? You sounded less than impressed not long ago.”
“Well, what did you expect when you cancel a showing with only hours’ notice and tell me you’re taking the house off the market?” She’s still smiling, but there’s both warning and bite in her tone.
“Don’t you worry, sunshine. I’m going to make it up to you twice over. I promise.” His gaze shifts over to me and his eyes go wide. “Uh. Am I seeing this right?”
I Flipping Love You Page 11