LOL #3 Romantic Comedy Anthology

by Anthology

  “Were you married long?”

  She shook her head. “Six very short months. The divorce took longer than the marriage lasted, for stupid reasons of money and real estate.”

  “Shitty deal.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Betty happened in Cabo, after surviving basic training, but not surviving a drunken celebration. I passed out—rookie mistake—and woke up as the tattooist started working.”

  “Against your will?”

  He shrugged. “Kind of a hard thing to explain outside the moment. I didn’t protest. I was young and stupid, probably.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Come here.” He tugged her around his body again, curling her into his side. “Just turned thirty-one.”

  “I’m twenty-seven.”

  “For the record, I didn’t ask.” He kissed her forehead. “You’re still young. Gorgeous. Kiss like a killer and laugh like a princess. Shake off the ex-husband, M. He’s not worthy of any space in your head.”

  “I’ve spent a lot of time over the last year thinking that I’d never have another first date. He had me investigated when we first split up, so even after my lawyer said dating was fine, I just couldn’t. Not until the divorce was official, and then… when I got the decree today in the mail, it didn’t even occur to me that I was free. All I could think was, now I need to sell the house I fought for for so long, because I can’t actually afford it by myself. It was the hollowest of victories.” As the words tore out of her, Emme started laughing. “And now I’ve just dumped that on you.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He held out his hand and she laced her fingers through his. “Another round of two truths and a lie?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  They talked for another hour, pausing here and there to make out like teenagers, all eager tongues and nervous hands. He was constantly aware of the warmth of her body, drifting closer before easing back.

  But he wasn’t so selfish that he thought he could hold her forever. That’s something he’d have done as a younger man—staying up all night for one more look from those shining blue eyes.

  Now he wanted to put her first. He was beyond angry that some asshole had broken her heart and dragged her through the dirt to add insult to injury. They might just have a night, but it was going to be a good night, so she’d have the courage to do this again. Be happy again.

  When she started yawning, he offered to walk her back to the security gate, but she insisted Starbucks would be a better destination.

  And then she talked him into ten-minute neck massages, which proved a brilliant idea. He drew the line when she wiggled her eyebrows and pointed to the pedicure express kiosk. “My feet are just fine the way they are.”

  “I bet they are,” she said under her breath, pressing close, and even though they were in the middle of the concourse, he pulled her tight and kissed her for slightly longer than would be considered polite. Not nearly long enough.

  When his phone vibrated, he didn’t want to check his messages. But when he did, he felt like he’d been handed a gift. “Looks like my flight is canceled. Re-loaded onto a different one in the morning.”

  “You know that could get changed a few times more?”

  He shrugged. “Sure. It’s not a big deal, I’ll come back first thing in the morning, be pleasant to the front desk staff. I know the drill.”

  She gave him a brilliant smile, and despite all her flags warning she wasn’t that kind of woman, he needed to ask. “Look, I was going to head back to my sister’s, but if you wanted… ”

  “You can’t come back to my place,” she said in a suddenly too-small voice. “I can’t… I just can’t. I have this hate-love-hate thing going on with that house right now and tonight has been perfect and… ”

  “Sure. Hey, no worries. I’ve had fun, M. Thank you for showing me your secret spot.” He moved closer, slow enough she could tell him to stop. This was the end of the road for them, but he wasn’t going to let it end on an awkward note.

  “Anytime, Sailor. Thanks for being my first date for Life 2.0.” They didn’t have the luxury of this happening again, but it felt good hearing her say it.

  “Anytime.” He echoed the lie with a rough whisper as he cupped her face with his hands. God, those eyes. They were getting bluer by the second. “M, there’s no crying in baseball.”

  “Shut up and kiss me, Sailor.”

  That he could do.

  With each step toward the security doors, Emme’s anxiety increased. She tightened her grip on the sailor’s hand, not wanting to let him go. Maybe she wanted to know his name, after all.

  Maybe she didn’t want to go home alone.

  Or maybe she just didn’t want to go home.

  “Hey, your flight has been cancelled. The airline should comp you a hotel room.”

  “It’s okay. That’s for people who are truly stranded. I can head back into the city.” He reached past her and pressed the door open, holding it wide for her.

  “Or you could get a hotel room.” She grabbed his hand, leading him to an empty spot against the wall in the crowded, chaotic departures hall.

  “I’m pretty sure most of these people need those rooms more than I do.”

  She tugged their entwined fingers up between their bodies. He wasn’t getting it. That was kind of cute, but also… man, did she have to spell it out? “Be a little selfish, Sailor.” Let me be a little selfish, too. “There are plenty of hotel rooms to go around. Come on, I’ll help smooth the way. What airline are you on?”

  His eyes flared like embers reawakened with a long, slow breath. “American. Are you sure… ”

  “Nope.” She tightened her grip on his hand. “But I don’t want to be alone tonight. And something tells me I can trust you with that.”

  He nodded slowly, his expression solemn. He had such a ready smile, but like this, he looked like a carved Roman sculpture, all perfect lines and hard angles. Noble and worth preserving forever. “Whatever you want. Just what you want.”

  She pressed up on her toes, dusting a light kiss across his lips before whispering the truth. “I want a lot.”

  “Then let’s get a room.”

  He didn’t let her dive back into the fray to get a complimentary room voucher from the airline. As soon as she gave him the green light, he planted his hand in the small of her back, spun her around and propelled her down the main corridor toward the Hilton attached to Terminal 1. She crossed her fingers they’d have an available room.

  They did. Her sailor handed over a credit card, then quietly asked if she wanted to give a copy of her own ID to the desk clerk for safety reasons. She stared up at him, wide-eyed, because not once did it occur to her that this wasn’t a smart idea. Swallowing hard, she handed over her driver’s license and the clerk added her to the room reservation.

  Heart racing, Emme stepped onto the elevator first, glad to see it empty. She was even more glad to feel his strong arms wrap around her waist, tugging her back against his chest. He didn’t say anything, just held her, and when they reached their floor he kissed her temple before pressing against the open elevator doorway and ushering her forward.

  Inside the room, she found a light switch and parked her suitcase in the closet. She turned around slowly and watched him dump his bag on the chair by the window.

  “I bet this isn’t weird for you,” she blurted out.

  He slid her a slow, amused smile. “Weird isn’t the word I’d use. Unusual… a bit. You won’t tell me your name, for one.”

  “I guess I shouldn’t make it about you. I just… this is weird for me. And I know that’s like the least-cool thing to say after begging a guy to get a hotel room, and I’m glad you did, but—”

  “Hey, M. It’s okay. I didn’t want to say goodbye to you tonight. I’m glad we’re here, even if you sleep under the sheets and I sleep on top of them.”

  “We’re definitely going to be under the sheets together.”

  He grinned, white teeth flashing
in his tanned face. “Good. I get cold at night.”

  “This is a bit late to ask, but do you have condoms?”

  He nodded slowly. “A couple.”

  “Okay. Good.” She was twisting her hands together. Totally not cool.

  “I always carry them. I don’t make a habit of picking up women in airports.”

  “But you’ve done this before.”

  “A one-night thing?”

  She nodded.

  He made a face. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

  “No?” She sighed. “Yes. I think so.”

  “Can I hug you while we talk?”

  He was across the room before she finished nodding. “Hey.”

  She mumbled her response into his shirt.

  “You’re beautiful, you know that? When I saw you ahead of me in that security line, I thought, damn. Whoever gets to kiss her goodnight is a lucky son of a bitch.”

  Emme couldn’t remember the last time Phil kissed her good night. Maybe he never had. And here she was feeling sorry for herself, when this gorgeous man just wanted to kiss her and make her happy. And she’d never see him again. Pushing away the sadness that thought welled up, she decided to embrace the freedom it gave her to be herself, nothing to lose.

  “So what do you want to know? How many girls I’ve kissed goodnight?” He had the best voice, a rich baritone that promised he wasn’t hiding anything, for better or worse.

  “Do you sing?” she asked abruptly.

  “Uh… yeah. A bit.”

  “Are you going to be nice to me tonight?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Are you going to give me an awful disease?”

  “Nope. Like I say, I’ve got condoms, and I’m tested pretty regularly for work.”

  “I’ve gotten tested a couple of times over the last year. Mostly paranoia.”

  “No, it’s smart. You weren’t treated right. That would make anyone wary.”

  “You’ve got all the right answers. You sure you’re not a con man?”

  He laughed. “How about we dance? I heard a rumor that bad guys don’t do that.”

  He swayed with her in his arms, and started singing under his breath. God, he was good. Too good. Too sweet.

  Emme let the happiness wash over her for a minute, then took a deep breath and slung her arms around his shoulders. “How are you at poker?”

  He arched an eyebrow as he glanced down at her. “You got cards, little lady?”

  “I sure do.” She cocked her thumb over her shoulder. “I’ll get them from my bag. You raid the minibar.”

  They settled on the bed with the cards and a few small bottles scattered between them. Emme dealt five cards, then paused. “How are we doing this? Sips? Shots? Entire bottles?”

  Her sailor took long enough in slowly sweeping his gaze from his cards up to her face that she should have known he was working on his answer. It still took her by surprise. “I thought we’d play for items of your clothing.”

  “Wait, what?” She could feel her cheeks burning up. “You want to play strip poker?”

  Big grin. She needed to rethink her first impression that he was good as gold. Although… “Why do you think we’re just playing for my clothes?”

  Two card exchanges later, Emme waved her three jacks in the air and wiggled her fingers at his shirt. “Come on. Show me the whole tattoo, Sailor.”

  Hooding his gaze, he ever so slowly rolled the fabric up and over his head. “I’m not complaining,” he drawled, tossing the shirt in her direction. “But—”

  “But what? Girls can’t be good at cards?”

  He cleared his throat. “Of course I wouldn’t say that. That would be foolish and wrong and not conducive to you taking off your shirt when I whoop your butt in the next hand.”

  She sweetly smiled and folded his shirt into a tiny, square trophy. “It’s good to know you’re not perfect, Sailor. I was getting worried there for a minute.”

  “Happy to oblige, M. Deal the cards.”

  She did, taking her time, because just two feet away was a big ol’ mile of man muscles she was finding terribly distracting. And that tattoo… “Is it getting hot in here?”

  Smirking, he glanced at his cards, then lowered his hand. To his crotch. “I’m good.”

  He was more than good. From looks of things behind his hand, he was Tony the Tiger Grrrreeeat! Emme’s mouth watered at the brazen distraction technique which almost worked. She glanced at her cards. Pair of kings, the odds were in her favor. “Me too.”

  “Let’s see ’em.” Another smirk.

  She lay down her cards, then bit her lower lip and blinked innocently. Two could play that game.

  He waited a beat before tossing a pair of aces onto the blanket between them. He gestured politely at her chest. “No, M. Let’s. See. Them.”

  Shit. She grinned. Okay, so he had a bit of luck there.

  Nathan leaned back on one hand, giving in to the heady arousal swirling through his body. Having her greedily eat him up with her eyes had been good. Really good, and he was ready to return the hunger. But instead of taking off her shirt, his vixen stood—slowly—and turned her back on him.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she winked before swaying her hips, drawing his attention to that super-fine ass of hers. Those snug jeans looked even better slipping down her hips. Underneath, she wore black cotton boy shorts, but he didn’t feel ripped off at all, because her legs… Holy hell.

  “Come here,” he growled, not caring about the game any longer. She turned slowly, and he changed his mind. “No, turn around again. Jesus, look at you.”

  Her legs were long for her body, with slim and toned calves and thighs that flared in a sexy curve to meet her hips. Pale skin and sculpted muscle, sweet softness and freckles, a light smattering running north from her knees. And then she turned again and the round cheeks of her ass peeking from the bottom of her shorts shredded the last of his self-control.

  In one fluid push he was off the bed and against her body. Like she could read his mind, she splayed her hands across his chest. He flexed under her touch because she turned him into a crowing rooster. Most of the time, his body was a machine that performed some of the worst tasks in the world. Swim in freezing cold depths. Scramble down mountainsides. Silently disable an enemy opponent. Carry a teammate for miles.

  But tonight, he had a different challenge. Simpler and infinitely more difficult at the same time, because this didn’t feel like any one-night stand he’d ever had before.

  And all of a sudden, he regretted the others, except without being that guy, who’d hit on a pretty woman with a lost scarf, he wouldn’t be here.

  “Want to keep playing?” she whispered, stroking her fingers featherlight across the tattoo that covered half his chest.

  “Sure.” He could play games all night long. It felt like they were immersed in a thick, erotic syrup that slowed everything down and made this foreplay dance smooth. Like all of a sudden, nothing was going to derail the attraction between them. The cards weren’t tentative flirting, they were prolonged foreplay.

  Aching from the need to taste her again, Nathan cupped her face and brought their lips together, open-mouthed from the start. He circled his tongue around hers, a rolling tease. They were going to do this for a while. No hurry.

  He could pretend this wasn’t just one night. That they weren’t on a six-hour countdown to a goodbye neither would want to make.

  No hurry.

  Mind over matter. Mind over time.

  Deeper, harder he kissed her, sucking and licking and matching his breath to hers. He tumbled them backwards, then climbed over her on the bed next to the cards.

  Blindly pulling two from the scattered pile, he held one to his forehead and pressed the other to hers.

  She giggled. God, he could get drunk on that sound. “What are we playing for?”

  “Your shirt.”

  “If you win, I take it off?”

  “And if you win, I tak
e it off. With my teeth.”

  She glanced at the card on his head. “I’ll see you the shirt and raise you my panties.”

  Wicked woman. He probably had a deuce. If there was a God, he definitely did, because she had a five. “I fold.”

  Peals of gorgeous laughter. “You can’t fold in Indian poker.”

  “I fold, you win. Out of my way, woman.”

  She unwound her legs from around his waist and he shot down her body.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Emme’s legs shook as her sailor pressed his impressive shoulders between them. He paused at her belly button, circling her piercing with his finger for a moment as he stared up at her, his gaze hot and hooded. So much for getting back on the sex trolley with a mortal. They were really doing this.

  He rucked her shirt a little higher, baring more of her stomach. He pressed a kiss to her side, then her hip. Sweet, hot, wet markings that blazed a trail to the waistband of her underwear, where he hooked his teeth into the fabric and tugged.

  Sweet baby Jesus. Emme closed her eyes and rolled her face toward the headboard, overcome by just how hot that was. His hands were everywhere, too, helping bare her to his gaze, and she couldn’t watch.

  She wanted this, more than anything, but if there was anything he didn’t like—if he expected her to be waxed or look different somehow, she couldn’t bear it.

  She’d had enough of not being enough for a lifetime.

  Against her naked thigh, he groaned, and she pressed her eyes shut even tighter. That’s a good noise, she told herself. His mouth was just above her knee now, softly sucking the skin there as his fingers spread her legs wider still.

  Then nothing. And in the silence, her heart broke. Just like that. Crack. So fragile. Too fragile for this. Her breath, frozen in her chest, started to hurt. Breathe. But she couldn’t.

  “M,” he said, and the warmth in his voice thawed her fear. She cracked an eyelid. He’d moved away to work on his belt. Taking it off. Good.

  She pulled in a low, slow tug of air.

  “You with me?” He shoved his pants to the ground, taking his boxer briefs with them. His hand wrapped around his erection, heavy and thick for her. “Just getting comfortable here. Look at what you do to me.”