by Mia Scott
"I'll give it back, Larrington, Jesus! I need to make a few improvements first." He Adam tits on her stick figure and a short, short skirt.
"My boobs are small, Big, not those big melons," Alisha insisted.
He looked her over and smirked. "They're not that small, Larrington. You've got a mouthful, and really, what more does a guy need?" He laughed when she smacked his shoulder, though the "menacing" look she tried to give didn't quite reach her eyes or have the effect she probably desired.
Big Adam bulging muscles on his arms and a fire extinguisher in the middle of the napkin. And he added in a tambourine, so she'd stop saying the goddamn word tambourine. "Anything else?" he asked. She shook her head and reached for his beer. He pulled it out of reach and shook his head. "I think you've had your fill, Larrington."
She gave him two thumbs down and yelled "Boo!"
"Come on, let's get out of here."
"But you haven't done your song yet."
"Larrington, I just did it!" he lied. The scrunched look of concentration on her face was seriously cute.
"Okay…I'm sorry I don't remember it. I'm sure you were great…though maybe just a smidge flat in parts. I could help you with that if you want. I'm a very talented singer." She smiled and crawled out of the booth, fumbling to put on her coat.
He snorted and put on his own coat. "Thanks, Larrington," he muttered.
She shrugged and gathered her things from the table, shoving them haphazardly into her bag. "Where are we going?"
"I'm taking you home," he informed her, leading her towards the exit.
"Oh, Big, I can get home by myself," she insisted, stumbling onto the sidewalk. His arms came around her middle and kept her from taking a header into the concrete. "Oops!" she laughed.
"Sure you can, Shorty," he drawled sarcastically, getting a good whiff of her perfume and shampoo. She smelled like citrus and mint. "But why don't you let me help you anyway?" She turned and peered up at him under hooded, long-lashed eyes, her dimples winking. Goddammit. Did she not have any idea what effect that look had?
"Thanks, friend," she murmured softly. "Ooh, there's a cab," she shouted excitedly. Bringing her fingers to her mouth, she whistled.
He poured her into the cab and slid in next to her, repeating her address to the driver after she mumbled incoherently.
She'd gone quiet on the short ride to her building, her head resting against the cool pane of the window. He'd watched her briefly, but felt kind of like a pussy and a creeper all in one, so he turned and looked out his own window. Tossing some bills to the driver the cab stopped, he leaned over her and patted her face. "Come on, Larrington, time to wake up." The soft little moan that passed through her lips stirred the lust he had for her in his gut. Not the time, fuckwit.
She woke up enough to climb out of the cab with his help and she shuffled along the sidewalk, muttering something he couldn't discern. Realizing it would take approximately a decade to get to her apartment at this speed, he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder.
"Mmmfph," she mumbled, stirring awake. "Hey, why am I upside down? Big, why are you carrying me?" she asked quietly, making him chuckle.
"Because, drunk ass, you walk slower than my ninety-year-old grandma with a broken leg."
She giggled.
"Hey, this is like the first time we met," she told him, as the realization dawned on her.
"Yeah, only the first time you were dumb ass and now you're just a drunk ass. Either way, Biggerone to the rescue."
"Biggerone," she laughed. "You're funny. Bigger—Biggeroni!" Peals of laughter rippled through the air.
He got to the fifth floor and unlocked her door, carrying her through the apartment and into her bedroom. Seriously? He was in Alisha's bedroom with no chance at getting laid. Fuck my life. Again. He set her down on her feet and helped her with the buttons on her coat which she peeled off and tossed onto the immaculate floor along with her scarf. She kicked off her shoes and crawled on the bed, sitting up on her knees. Her lips curled into a seductive smile, her lashes lowered as she slowly looped her arms around his neck. Fuck.
"Big…thanks for taking my mind off things tonight," she whispered.
This was going down a very dangerous path that he wasn't equipped to walk away from. "No sweat, Larrington. It was very educational for me," he teased, fighting to keep his hands at his sides and not put them where he really wanted to.
"Do you find me attractive?" she asked in a small voice.
Big snorted. "What kind of stupid question is that?"
"Just answer it," she whispered again, pressing her body closer to his.
"Woman, don't be dumb. You're sexy as hell and since you're drunk I'll admit that you're nearly fucking killing me right now with the way you're looking at me."
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and smiled softly. "I think you're sexy, too. I don't know why I've been trying to fight that. It's just fact. You're sexy," she reiterated.
Truth. "Thanks," he grinned, his eyes falling closed when her hands ran over the soft stubble of his shorn hair on the back of his head. "Larrington, this isn't a good idea." If she didn't fucking stop he was going to do something they'd both regret. Well, she definitely would, and he was thinking he might. She smiled again, all dark hair and eyes and bright white teeth and he was starting to lose it. This shit was messed up.
"I think it is," she purred. She purred, goddammit! Then those full lips brushed against his own in a feather light, teasing kiss, the lust springing to life now. Alisha peered up at him again, a knowing smile in her eyes and on her lips the moment before she crushed her mouth to his.
He inhaled sharply, and his hands came around her hips, pulling her flush against him as her tongue parted his lips and danced inside. He heard the moan low in her throat and he deepened the kiss, his nerves sparking like a live electrical wire. You need to stop this, asshole. She's drunk. More, just a little bit more. His hands came up to her face and he fisted his hands in that chestnut curtain, plundering her mouth until his brain screamed for oxygen. Pulling away, he unwrapped her arms from around his neck and stepped back, putting some very necessary distance between them.
"Where are you going?" she asked, reaching for him.
"You're drunk, baby," he said gruffly, feeling the uncomfortable tightness in his jeans.
She giggled softly. "So?"
"Larrington, you're on the verge of passing out…and when we have sex, I want you to remember everything I do to you and the way I make you feel."
"I like the way I feel right now," she told him, brushing the hair out of her eyes.
Of course she did. If it was half of what he felt right now she'd be ready to fuck on cloud goddamn nine. "Go to sleep." She shook her head no. "Larrington, come on," he practically begged. He walked back over to the bed and pulled back the covers for her. "In you go."
"Are you joining me?" she asked hopefully.
He nearly wanted to cry, if he did such pussy things. Which he didn't. She was offering herself up and he wanted to bang her so fucking badly. But, even though he was a total asshole about 99.99% of the time, he just couldn't take advantage of her like this. "No," he said grumpily.
"You're no fun," she yawned, crawling under the covers.
"Tell me about it," he muttered. He looked down at her hair fanned out on the pillow, her heavy eyes and slight smile and nearly threw all resolve out the mother fucking window. "Goodnight, Alisha."
Big walked out of her bedroom and out the front door when he realized that he didn't have any way of locking her apartment. Once again, his fucking conscience got to him and he knew he couldn't leave her in there with the door unlocked. Son of a whore! He went back inside and plopped down on her large, comfortable couch, shifting one of the throw pillows behind his head.
His balls detested the color blue.
Chapter 8
The next morning after Alisha stepped out of the shower, she felt human again, the last traces of her headache
dissipating as she combed out the wet strands of her long dark hair. She gently patted the excess water from her skin and slathered her body with lotion, all the while trying to piece together the details of last night. She was a little foggy and didn't remember anything after doing tequila shots with Big at Wicked Willy's. It still surprised her that she'd called him to help get her mind off things in the first place. But he hadn't judged her, and he'd made her laugh. She figured that was all she'd really wanted, so mission accomplished.
While there was a lot she couldn't remember, she half wished she could forget the trail his tongue had licked on the inside of her wrist. The trail that still pulsed if she thought about the way his eyes had locked onto hers and smirked as he'd done so. "God," she murmured to her reflection in the foggy mirror. Alcohol was bad news. She'd told him way too many intimate details about herself last night and that was something she never would have done in ten million years if her tongue hadn't been loosened by the effects of liquid truth.
Something nagged at her brain though, like she was missing the final piece of the puzzle; but seeing as she'd awoken fully clothed and alone (thank God), all seemed right with the world. Still, she made a silent promise to herself to lay off the booze for a while…or at the very least not imbibe in the presence of the fireman.
She brushed her teeth and padded back into her adjoining bedroom to get dressed for the day. Looking around her room for the new things she bought yesterday, she remembered she'd dropped them by the front door in her haste to forget the Gregory bullshit. Hanging the towel on the hook behind the door, she walked into her living room. She was halfway to the front door when the screaming started.
Big groaned and stretched his arms over head as he pushed through that hazy state between sleep and wakefulness. His eyes slowly blinked open and he frowned, trying to get his bearings. Then it all became crystal clear. He was in Alisha's apartment because Alisha had gotten completely blitzkrieged the night before. And Alisha had kissed him and then asked him to stay. And what had he done? He'd fucking turned her down. If his balls didn't still ache from the sexual frustration of it all, he'd have checked to see if he suddenly had a vagina between his legs. Big sat up grumpily and scrubbed a hand over his face. He had to piss like a goddamn racehorse, so he pushed himself up off the couch and heard the blood curdling scream. Whirling around, he got an eyeful of a very shocked—and very, very naked—Alisha Larrington.
"Oh my God, Big!" Alisha screamed, clutching a hand to her chest to calm her pounding heart. She thought he was some sort of burglar rapist. "You scared the shit out of me! What are you doing here?"
His jaw dropped, but he quickly recovered, slowly raking his eyes over her naked (and wet!) body. "Take out the terrified screaming and this is one helluva wakeup call, Larrington," he said, his voice thick and groggy from sleep.
The realization that she was naked slammed into her like a freight train and she tried vainly to cover her body with her hands. Her cheeks flamed crimson and when he smirked at her she wanted to die. "Turn around!" she screeched, ducking behind the couch, looking for something, anything to cover up with.
He chuckled. "And why would I do that? You're naked and wet. That's a killer combo." Fuck, her legs really did go on for miles…and her tits, well, Jesus.
OhmyfuckingGod! She reached blindly up the back of the couch, groping for the throw that usually rested there, but didn't find it. Her heart was hammering so loudly in her ears, but it was dramatically overshadowed by her humiliation, which was threatening to actually end her life right there on the floor. She could hear him chuckling and she wanted to hurt him. Badly. "Stop laughing at me, asshole! What the hell are you even doing in my apartment?" A sick feeling crept into her stomach as she wondered again about the missing puzzle piece. But that was shoved aside so she could handle her current predicament. She spied the shopping bags by the door and scooted her body across the floor, one hand trying to cover her breasts (and hold on to her remaining last tiny shred of dignity). If she could just grab the bag, she could cover herself with that and make it back to her bedroom.
"I had to carry you up here last night because you drank too goddamn much and couldn't walk."
"Well, thank you," she spat, "but that doesn't explain why you're still here."
"What are you doing?" he asked humorously, skirting around the couch to stand in front of her, his arms folded over his chest.
Alisha squeaked and tried to cover the important parts with arms and hands. "If you don't hand me something to cover myself in the next ten seconds, I will punch you in the face," she bit out through clenched teeth, making him laugh.
"I think I'd like to see you try, Shorty," he sneered. "Oh, just get up. I've already gotten a good look at that hot little body of yours. There's no undoing that up here," he told her, pointing to his head.
"You are a filthy swine of a man," she seethed.
"Oink, oink, baby," he drawled, grinning down at her.
"Dammit, Big, I thought we were kind of friends now," she whined, in spite of herself.
He scratched his jaw and smirked. "Well, sure we are, Larrington. But I think we're the kind of friends who want to see each other naked. I know I'm enjoying it so far." He paused for a beat. "I can show you mine if you want."
"You're abhorrent! And also, outrageously off base. I have no interest in seeing you naked." His response was a slow, wicked grin that was entirely unnerving. This was so absurd. She had no dignity left whatsoever and he had already seen her. Just get up and run into your room, Alisha. You can die alone there. "Okay, seriously, what's with the look? I know that this scenario is typically limited to fictional characters on sitcoms, but can you cut me some slack please? You're really bordering on sexual harassment!"
Big snorted out a dry laugh and extended a hand to help her up. She eyed him warily and he could practically see the wheels turning in her head like how do I do this without showing him my goodies? Again. After staring at his hand for a good fifteen seconds, she finally took it and he pulled her up off the floor, chuckling at her very weak attempts to maintain modesty.
Alisha cast a quick glance over her shoulder and spotted a blanket at the end of the couch. She shuffled down a few steps, very aware of Big's extreme delight over the whole situation, and tried to decide how best to grab the blanket and cover up. "Turn around!" she hissed, stomping her foot.
With a big roll of his eyes, he grudgingly covered them with his hand. And if you think he caught a peek while she was grabbing for the blanket, you are absolutely correct. Goddamn her ass is amazing!
She wrapped the blanket tightly around her, making sure all parts that needed to be covered were indeed covered. "Okay," she muttered, smoothing a hand over her wet hair as if that simple gesture would restore every ounce of self-respect she'd lost since she stepped foot into the living room.
Big dropped his hand to his side and his lips twitched as he slowly gave her the once over again. "You can cover it up, Larrington, but now I know what you're hiding under there. Might keep me up at night."
She refused to let him get under her skin. "Well, I'm sure you'll forget all about me the next time you've got a random skank writhing beneath you. Time for you to go now." She walked over and grabbed his coat, tossing it at him.
"Wouldn't you rather be the one writhing beneath me, Larrington?"
"Not even a little," she insisted.
"Hmm…" He shrugged into his coat. "That's funny, because that's not what you were saying last night when you kissed me."
If he'd smacked her across the face she wouldn't have been more stunned than she was right then. The missing piece of the puzzle had just been identified and she felt like projectile vomiting. Arming him with this type of ammunition was an epic failure on her behalf. "I don't believe you," she said firmly, jutting out her chin.
God, the look on her face was utterly priceless. If only he could snap a picture. "Suit yourself," he shrugged. "But, I'm not lyin', Larrington. You," he began, taking a ste
p closer, "kissed me," another step, "and asked me to stay. Call me crazy, but I don't think you had Parcheesi in mind, either," he added simply, looming over her tiny frame and staring down at that gorgeous face of hers while she glared up at him. He was close enough to kiss her if he wanted to. He smirked instead.
Her eyes narrowed at the self-satisfied look on his face. He was unbelievable! Her embarrassment dissipated and was replaced with anger. "Well, I can assure you that it was just the alcohol talking. That will never happen again."
Big raised a brow, his grin taking on a wicked edge. "Now, I don't believe that for a minute."
"You know what, Big?" she clipped. "I don't really give one good damn what you believe or think."
"Larrington, chill the fuck out. It was just a kiss," he said gruffly, reaching out and brushing the pad of his thumb gently over her lip. "Though it was a damn good one. Makes me wonder what else you can do with that mouth of yours."
She slapped his hand away and shoved at the muscled wall of his chest to put some much-needed distance between them. "God! You are repugnant and sleazy! Get the hell out of my home this minute," she yelled. She stalked towards the door and jerked it open. "Why don't you stop and get your Valtrex refilled on the way home and find some brainless harlot that doesn't mind listening to the garbage that comes out of your mouth. I've reached my quota for the next two centuries." Her blood was raging so wildly within her that she very nearly could see the red in her eyes.
He laughed at her and realized that was probably the wrong thing to do when she stomped her foot and her eyes went wide and scary. She was so angry that she was actually vibrating. "Look—"
"Get out! Now!" she screeched, her voice notching up about a million decibels.
Big walked past her and paused in the doorway, unable to resist getting another dig in. "You know, Shorty, if you want to take your anger out on me I could think of a much better outlet than shouting. Though I guess there'd probably be shouting involved then, too. Mostly my name."