"Oh stop. It ain't that cold out today."
I shake my head, jogging back up the stairs to the car, taking our bags out of the trunk, unlocking the front door, dropping everything. I head to the master bathroom, seeing it stocked and grab two towels as I walk back to the sliding doors.
With each step closer to Jenna, I know we're both in deep this weekend. Our deadline the furthest thing from my mind, taking our friendship to the next level like we should have six months ago in its place.
"Are you just gonna stare at it or slide in?"
I choke out a laugh, looking at Jenna's amused face.
"You got a dirty mouth, Jenna Watson."
Her cheeks redden and I know her well enough to know it has nothing to do with the heat of the hot tub.
"Y-you know what I meant," she grumbles.
"Sure I do and don't you worry. I'm gonna slide right on in."
I wink as I pull my clothes off, standing a little longer in my tight boxer briefs, maybe flexing my abs a little harder as I gradually slip into the hot tub.
I chance a look at her and she breaks her gaze away from my crotch with those rosy cheeks darkening again.
"I'm a grower, Watson. Despite what you say, it's chilly out here."
She snaps her gaze to me, furrowing her eyebrows.
"I wasn't—"
"Sure you weren't. Just like I wasn't admiring your ass and tits."
She opens her mouth to protest again but then shuts it, pressing her lips together and trying to hide her smile but failing miserably.
"Whatever."
I smile, leaning my head back and close my eyes as I let the warm water relax my body, the sound of the lake soothing me as I take deep breaths in and out. She's right, this will ease the strongest anxiety.
"When's the last time you were here?" Jenna asks softly.
"Funny, I was just thinking that when I pulled up. Not sure, it's been awhile. We used to come up every August for the month, recharge before school started my ma would say."
"I bet you have a ton of memories here."
"I do, yeah. What about you? Any vacation memories you wanna spill?"
I know her upbringing was shit but she has to have one fun memory. I open my eyes to look at her, her head still tipped back, eyes closed.
"Well every 4th of July weekend, Paisley and I would always walk down Broadway, pretendin' we were at a bachelorette party. Guys are scoundrels, even if they thought we were gettin' married, we drank for free all night and they still tried to take us home."
"You little hustlers," I laugh. "Playing those poor guys."
"Yeah, yeah, they were pigs. We only did it twice because then we kinda lost hope in all mankind," Jenna laughs. "These guys out here tryna pick up almost married chicks. The hopeless romantic in me died a slow death."
"Oh yeah? I don't think that's true at all. You still write like a hopeless romantic. If I didn't believe in all this crap, I probably would after reading something you wrote."
She smiles, her eyes still closed and her head is still leaned back against the side of the hot tub.
I lean back myself, closing my own eyes, letting my body stay in it's relaxation state even though it's no use. The second we step into that house, the tension is going to suffocate me.
I want Jenna. I joke and I flirt, we're friends but that doesn't mean that I don't think about her like a healthy, warm-blooded twenty seven year old male does. She's gorgeous, her accent is fucking adorable and she's a great person. She's been the one constant for me this past year and I've let her into places I've never let anyone before.
Maybe it's because I knew we were never going to be in front of each other. I knew she would never take the trip up to New York unless she was forced and she always refused me when I told her I wanted to take the trip down. Maybe our friendship works from afar because we don't have this physical tension boiling between us. The screen blocks it or maybe I'm nuts and it's just me feeling all this.
My mind replays that night in the hotel six months ago and I know for a fact it’s not just me. I smelled her. I felt her nipples harden, I saw her pulse pounding out of her goddamn neck. She wanted me that night and if her phone didn’t interrupt us, I would have had her begging from underneath me naked as the day she was born.
I slowly open my eyes and Jenna still has her head back, eyes closed and her plump lips are parted. She smirks, her dimple on the right side of her cheeks indenting before she speaks.
"You don't think I feel you starin' at me?"
"I'm not staring, I'm just...about to get out. My balls are gonna freeze off and that's not good for anyone, believe me."
I stand, trying to cover up the fact that yes, I was fucking staring because Jenna’s petrified. She has a heartbreaking past she hates to talk about but one that she confided in me one night over a drunken video chat. I know how she feels about getting close to people and the fact that she even let me as far in as she has the past year, was a miracle. As much as I want her, I have to make sure this is on her terms. Besides, this is about work, not fucking.
Yeah right. Try writing a sex scene when she's no longer behind a screen 800 miles away from you but rather right in front of your goddamn face. Shit.
Jenna
I sit at the head of the table with my laptop open in front of me, staring at Lorenzo across at the other end of the table, and I frown.
"Well what the hell do we do now?" I groan, knowing we just wasted an hour in the hot tub and another hour each showering.
Plopping down at the table to "write" after, only just staring in silence for the past ten minutes is probably not what our agents had in mind.
"Maybe we should eat. I can't write on an empty stomach," Lorenzo suggests as he stands.
"How 'bout we hit the liquor store too? We had our best idea when we were drunk, let's eat and let loose a little, not make this so formal, yeah?"
I stand too and we make our way out of the house to the car, driving into town.
Fifteen minutes later, we're walking back through the front door, tequila and margarita mix in my hands, take out mexican food in Lorenzo's.
"Let's eat on the island, save the dining room table for our workspace."
I nod, following him to the kitchen island as I set out the food and he busies himself making us margaritas.
"So how do you wanna do this? Writing together? I can talk out a scene and you type? We can type together in Docs?" Lorenzo asks, bringing me my margarita as he sits down next to me at the island.
"I guess we can just see where it goes. I like the idea of talkin' and typin'. We've never done that before."
"Could be fun," he says with a wink.
I press my lips together, looking away from him as I take a big gulp of my drink. It's not a secret I've crushed on Lorenzo since that first DM last year. He's gorgeous, funny and always manages to lift my mood, no matter how down I feel. He knows I can't act on it though, because the people I love the most always leave. We're friends. If we stay friends I get to keep him. If I make him more than that, I'll be signing off on his departure before I know it, somehow, some way he'll be gone, just like everyone else.
We finished the pitcher of margarita, our tacos and the entire box of nachos before we settled down at the dining room table. My head is super fuzzy, my body is tingling and hot and I scramble to take off my hoodie, suddenly feeling claustrophobic.
"F-fuckin' shit is the heat at like maximum capacity up in here? I'm dyin'."
Lorenzo laughs, walking over to the thermostat and shaking his head.
"Nope. You're just drunk. Come on, let's make magic, Watson."
He turns back, giving me that sly sideways smile and sits at one end of the dining room table as I sit at the other. I log into my computer putting up our manuscript and see Lorenzo's green icon appear.
I glance up at him and realize he's staring at me, that smile still firmly in place. I shake my head, breaking his gaze and follow his icon straight into a frigging trap
. Opening my mouth, I shut it quickly as I see he lands on the office sex scene.
"You said something about office sex being overrated, right?"
"I...I don't think that was the word I used," I say softly, already simultaneously hating and loving where this is going.
I've never written a sex scene live with Lorenzo before. I always cut the video and type it out by myself but this is worse. This is so much worse.
"Let's see if you still think that after this scene."
"I...let me get some water. That was...too much alcohol too fast."
I scramble to my feet, walking over to the fridge as I open it and grab a water bottle, chugging half before I even shut the fridge door. I press a palm to it, catching my breath before I turn back around but when I do, Lorenzo is right there, pushing my back into the fridge.
The coldness of the fridge door against my back causes me to jump and my chest bumps against his.
"W-what are you doin'?"
"Do you know when the best time to write is?" Lorenzo whispers next to my ear, the heat of his breath the opposite of the coolness of my back.
I close my eyes, gulping as he continues to whisper, his breath tickling my neck now as he slowly makes his way across my chest to my other ear.
"The best time to write is when your senses are heightened."
"Mmm hmm," I mumble with a nod, as his breath heats the other side of my neck, right underneath my ear.
"When you can feel what your characters are about to go through...that's when the magic happens."
I'm panting now, my head dropped back against the fridge as Lorenzo runs a finger down my arm and circles my wrist.
"What are our characters 'bout to go through?" I sigh.
Lorenzo finally presses his lips to my cheek, smiling against my skin as he lifts both my wrists above my head, pinning them to the fridge with both hands.
"Our heroine is about to get fucked, Jenna. Our hero is going to be so enamoured with her, obsessed with being inside her, he can't think about anything else."
I moan, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, trying to ease some of the tension between my legs. I need friction, dammit.
Lorenzo runs his nose up the front of my neck, audibly inhaling me and it is the sexiest fucking thing I've ever experienced in my life.
"How do you feel, Jenna?"
"I...I f-feel…"
"Turned on?"
"Yes," I blurt out on a moan. "S-so turned on, I—"
"Good. Let's get to work then."
He drops my wrists, backs away from me and I shoot my eyes open, my jaw to my chest.
Is he fucking serious?
I watch as he walks back to the table and sits as if nothing just happened and I grit my teeth, pretending the same.
When I sit back down, I take a few more seconds to compose myself before I finally look up at him. His fingers click against the keyboard but his eyes never waver from mine. That deep, dark brown penetrates my own green ones and I press my thighs together, feeling the alcohol drift down my body and settle between my legs.
How about you climb across this table and take what he denied you?
No. Stop. Stop this right now. Shut up, vagina.
I struggle to keep my eyes open, my eyelids feeling heavy as I watch Lorenzo's tongue slip past his perfect lips and wet his bottom one. His eyes are still fixed on mine, his fingers moving furiously for what feels like hours now and it's the most turned on I've ever been without being touched.
I quickly break our gaze, looking down at my screen and my fists clench on the table.
She sits at the opposite end of the conference table and I watch her eyes glaze over with desire. She fucking wants me and she can see it in my own eyes I want her too. Fuck, I want her so bad.
"We have a meeting Mr. Towers," she whispers, trailing a finger down her slender neck.
"Fuck the meeting, Maisy," I growl, pushing the papers off the table and stomp toward her.
She gasps and leans back in her seat as I finally approach her and sit my ass down on the table in front of her.
"Unbuckle my pants. I want your mouth on my cock."
"But the meeting—"
"Can wait until we're both satisfied, Maisy. I know you want this and we've waited long enough."
She nods frantically unbuckling my belt…
I look up, wondering why he stopped typing and realize I'm panting. I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head, opening them up again and finally find the words.
"W-why did you stop?" I breathe out, wondering if he gets both my meanings.
You should keep typing, you should have kept touching me, dammit.
No. It's good that he stopped. God knows I wouldn't have been able to stop it if he didn't. I glance up and his smile has faded. He slowly pushes his laptop to the side and stands.
"Enzo...don't," I plead.
I know if he takes a step near me, I'll break. I'm so on edge, I'm so turned on and I want to know if his words match his actions. If he can get my heart pumping with a scene what the hell can he do in real life? Just breathing on me caused me to melt in a fucking puddle. I'm doomed.
"Tell me you don't want me to stomp across the room and tell you to unbuckle my pants."
His voice is deep and raspy and I grip the table a little harder.
"Don't make me say that."
"Why?"
He slams his hands down onto the table and I flinch, opening my eyes as I watch him stand and walk over to me.
"Because I...I can't lie and…"
"So don't."
He stands in front of me and I try to scooch my chair back but he grips the back, keeping me in place.
"You know I want you, Jenna. It's not a secret. I've made it known the damn day I met you and I've let you steer this...friendship."
My breaths are coming in and out so fast, I'm on the verge of passing out. The alcohol, the sugar, the lust...it's too much.
"We can't be more than—"
"Friends, I know. Friends fuck sometimes, Jenna. I'm not asking for a commitment, I'm asking for whatever you can give me."
"What if I can't give you anything?"
I close my eyes as I feel the warmth of his skin as he moves forward. I brace myself for his touch but it never comes. His hot breath against my cheek has my body screaming for more but I ignore it, trying to hold onto every last shred of self control I possess.
"Your body gives you away, Watson. You were shaking against that fridge and it had nothing to do with the temperature. You want to give me everything that I want to take. Let me…"
His touch finally comes again and it feels like a jolt of electricity against my cheek, when you slide down the playground slide and touch the first person you see. I flinch, my nostrils flaring as I acknowledge how long it's actually been since I've had a man touch me. Too long. Far too fucking long as I lean into Lorenzo's palm and rub my face against it like a needy cat.
"You know...too much. You know...why I can't," I struggle to say, my voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm not like them, Jenna. I'm not—"
I stand abruptly, widening my eyes as I almost knock my chair down in the process. I don't want to talk about any of that, I can't stand the pity I hear in his voice. I grip the back of Lorenzo's neck, pressing our foreheads together. I take a deep breath in, his scent familiar even though I haven't smelt him for six months. Somehow, I knew when I met him, this is what he would smell like; Irish Spring mixed with a spiciness I wish I could put in a candle and burn all day so I'd be surrounded by it.
This is exactly why this can't happen, but that doesn't mean I don't want it to. He moves his head, touching our noses together and I know all I would have to do is move an inch and we'd be kissing. I know we wouldn't stop at that. I know if I allowed him to, he would take me right here on the table. Kissing is...serious. Kissing means something and if it means something it'll get ripped from me. Everything else though…
I don't think, I just act
as I hastily unbuckle his belt, watching his eyes squeeze shut as he realizes I'm taking him up on his word. He has seconds to be righteous and even though I should want him to be, I pray he doesn't.
"Jenna…"
I reach down into his briefs, grabbing his smooth, hot shaft in my hand and he groans, squeezing his eyes shut as a hiss escapes past his plump lips.
"What?" I whisper, attempting to keep my sexual bravado in place.
"I...it's been a...a while, I…"
He groans, gripping my wrist in his hands and starts to pump his hips, matching my rhythm.
"Use both hands," he growls, his voice like sandpaper.
I nod, wrapping another hand around his impressive shaft and he grips the back of my neck, pressing our foreheads together as he pumps his hips.
"God, this is so hot," I whisper against his cheek, pressing a kiss there.
"F-feels fucking amazing," he struggles to say.
Suddenly, my hands move up and down his shaft more easily as a coat of liquid pools into my palm.
Lorenzo mumbles under his breath, cursing and gritting his teeth. I furrow my brows watching him as I continue to stroke him and then his eyes finally open with embarrassment and regret. I freeze, slowly pulling my hand out of his underwear as his cheeks turn a tomato red.
"That um...that's never h-happened to me before," he stutters, now seeming pissed off as he angrily zips up his jeans and walks past me.
I’m confused as hell as I walk to the sink to wash my hands, ignoring his reaction, unaware why he's so pissed about this. He came onto me twice, what the fuck did he expect me to do?
I continue to wash my hands, realizing now that that was a lot more than precum. I smirk as I dry my hands on a towel and turn around to face him, arms crossed.
"Did you...did you just cum?"
"Shut up," he mumbles, grabbing his crotch and adjusting it as he walks back to his side of the table.
"Oh my God and you talk 'bout me? I think the first guy I ever gave a hand job to in tenth grade lasted longer than that," I laugh, shaking my head.
"Hilarious," Lorenzo chimes in, his demeanor softening a little bit. "My life has consisted of writing and Pornhub. It's been awhile since I've had...real female interaction, alright?"
Bestselling Bastard : A Hero Club Novel Page 6