My hand rides down over her searing flesh and takes in the sting from her skin, like touching down on a hot iron skillet. My fingers create small circles over her stomach before dipping down to her panty line and slipping my fingers inside. I’d map her out with my mouth, but she protested the last time I tried. I know some girls have a hang-up about that. We’ll get her there, just not tonight. Tonight we’re traveling in the slow lane to ensure Ally Monroe gets an intoxicating rise out of the evening while using me as the fuel she needs.
“Come here.” She tries to pull me down by the neck, but I don’t budge.
“No thanks.” I press out a smile. “I like the view.”
“Morgan.” She averts her gaze a moment, and I take the opportunity to glide my fingers over her skin, tracing the shape of an S. I touch down over the coarse hair that lines the tender part of her body and my finger glides into the hot slick. Ally is well lubed for the night, and my ego would like to think I had more than a little something to do with it.
Her eyes close involuntarily as she catches her breath.
“Morgan.” She says it again as if pleading with me. Ally’s chest rises and falls with the rhythm of my fingers. Her breathing becomes erratic, her shoulders flex in time as she writhes in the sand, her neck arches as if this is agonizing on some level. “Morgan, wait.” She reaches down and secures her grip over my wrist.
“I’m good,” I whisper. “I want to do this. I like watching you. You’re beautiful, you know that?”
“Come here.” She pulls me with the strength of a wrestler and dislodges my hand in the process.
“I want to finish. I want to do this for you,” I say, running my hand back down to the heated slick I was enjoying before she stopped me. I open my mouth and trace her jawline with my lips.
“I don’t want to disappoint you.” She heaves the words in my ear as if she is a breath away from enjoying the hell out of herself.
“How—”
A wall of water collapses over our bodies and baptizes us with its icy brine.
Ally screams and laughs as the wave rolls back with ten times the ferocity it did coming in.
“Shit.” I pluck at my T-shirt that’s adhered to my flesh. I roll back over her and warm her lips with mine. I let my lips hover over her, waiting for her to want me, invite me in. Ally holds me down by the shoulders and dives her salty little tongue into my mouth. I gently catch it with my teeth, and my chest rumbles with a laugh. I swipe my tongue over hers, exploring slowly and methodically, as if I were setting up shop. Kissing Ally has quickly become my favorite pastime, kicking the old ball and stick out of the prime position they’ve held in my life since the day I was born. We kiss for what feels like hours, months. I soak in all of her moans, the sweet way her body writhes beneath me. I’m not ready to head back to the house, and for sure I’m not ready to ask her why the hell she thinks she could ever disappoint me. If anything, she’s deprived me of witnessing one hell of an awesome sight. I think I’ve memorized her face, the way her body looks twisted in the sand, right down to the last molecule.
Nope, Ally Monroe doesn’t disappoint on any level—never could, never will.
Once we arrive home, the rest of the night is uneventful. Ally takes a shower and crashes on the couch, falling asleep before I can beg her to help me out with the perpetual hard-on I’ve been nurturing since I arrived in Carrington.
Cruise’s voice booms through the papier-mâché walls, barking out orders in his bedroom, and for the first time in my life I wish to God I were deaf. Between his sergeant-like commands and Kendall’s high-pitched moans my hard-on has deteriorated all on its own.
It’s becoming painfully clear that I’ve got to get the hell out of here. I’m pretty damn sure the seventh circle of hell has a lot to do with hearing your sister in the throes of passion, night after night. But it’s not Kendall’s pleasure threshold that has me worried, it’s Ally’s.
In the morning, Ally’s taken off for Starbucks before I can get out of the shower. Kendall is nowhere to be found. I’ll probably hit the batting cages in a few minutes. Stalk Ally on the way over—a man needs his coffee. God knows the brewed piss Cruise offers isn’t going to help shape the day.
Speaking of the bed-and-breakfast bigwig, I find him hunched over his laptop in the kitchen, and thanks to sad mathematics I can deduce it’s just Elton and me. He looks wrecked, like he partied all night and has a serious hangover to contend with, but in reality we both know it’s because he doesn’t get enough freaking sleep. Gyrating on your mattress all night will do that to a person. I should know. I used to live that way until Paige walked into my life and turned me into a genetic vending machine, a potential one at least.
That’s precisely why I swore off random hookups. At least I did until I hit Carrington and Ally Monroe fell into my lap, literally.
My chest pumps with a failed laugh.
I was going to hold out for “true love,” whatever the hell that might be. I think Ally and I can get to it. I think if she burns her illogical ideals to the ground, she might find something just beyond those ashes, preferably me.
And what’s with denying herself the Big O? She saving that for Rutger or some other well-off douche? Sounds more like a punishment. If she keeps using my social standing as an excuse to cut off her good time, soon her entire body is going to subconsciously hate me.
Cruise springs up from the table and blinks a sarcastic smile.
“What’s on your mind, doll face?” He dumps cereal into a bowl in haste, landing half of his not-so Lucky Charms all over the sink.
“Ally.” My stomach clenches. I don’t like how easily I admitted it. The next thing you know, I’ll be drooling over how cute she is and crying like a schoolgirl over the fact she’s just not that into me. Then, of course, Cruise and I will end the douche-fest with a pillow fight and I’ll have to beat the shit out of him for reducing me to the relevance of a seventh-grade girl. Funny how just about every mental scenario with Cruise ends with me beating the shit out of him. The first time he looks at Kendall crooked, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.
He plops down his bowl and a swig of milk slops onto the table. His eyes are nothing but a network of red wires, and he looks dulled out in general.
“Dude, you gotta get some sleep.”
“Tell me about it,” he gravels out. “At about three-thirty I had a plumbing backup next door that nearly washed away the entire second floor. I had to relocate three couples in the middle of the night, including my sister.”
My gut tightens when he mentions his overly hormonal little sis. I cast a glance around the room, making sure she’s not preparing to jump me from the corner. There’s not a lot I wouldn’t put past her.
“And now,” he continues, “the rooms won’t be available until God knows when. There goes any hope of ever getting into the black.” He jabs his spoon into his food, and a handful of stale marshmallows confetti the table.
I don’t say anything. Pretty much dealing with other people’s shit at any hour of the day sucks, so there’s nothing I can add to make this better.
“So tell me about Ally.” He makes an effort to lift his lids. “You said you were thinking about her.”
“It’s nothing.” I consider this a moment. Elton alluded to knowing something about her a couple of weeks ago, and maybe now, while his synapses are misfiring from a lousy night’s sleep, is a great time to squeeze some info out of him. “So, how well do you know Ally?” Hell, maybe Cruise here did a little tour of duty with Ms. Monroe before Kenny popped on the scene. Not that I think of Ally that way—but for damn sure I think of him that way.
“Well enough.” He pulls his cheek to the side with a sudden look of discontent. “Not like that.”
“Got it.” Thank God for small mercies.
“Why do you ask? Everything okay in that department?” He looks remorsef
ul for even going there.
“I don’t know.” What the hell kind of answer is that? Unfortunately it’s the truth. “She ever say anything about it?”
“You and her?” His eyes bulge a moment, disgusted by the prospect of Ally bringing up our sex life. “I’m not that close to her. Maybe she’s said something to Kenny. Why? Are you into weird shit that freaks her out?”
Nice. He’s suddenly good and pissed at my prospective perversion.
“You mean like those chains you’ve got dangling off the bed like a threat? Or that power motor I hear you running in the bedroom every now and again? What the hell is that, a weed whacker? Second thought, I really don’t want to know.” I sink down in my seat and thread my fingers behind my neck. “With Ally, it has nothing to do with anything extracurricular, just your run-of-the-mill stuff. Things you expect a girl to enjoy.” I give a curt nod because that’s as far as I’m willing to take it.
He shakes his head, stymied by what might pleasure the average girl. Crap. Maybe it’s Kenny who’s the pervert in this equation, but somehow I doubt that.
“Anyway, if you think of it, ask Kendall for me, would you? I’m pretty sure Ally wants me, she just doesn’t…want to enjoy herself like you’d imagine she would.” There—picture painted.
He lurches a little before diving into a dry laugh. “You don’t know how to please her? Sounds like the problem is you, my friend.”
“She won’t let me.”
“Again, you’re the common denominator.”
I shoot him a dirty look before changing the subject.
“What’s Cal’s number? I’ve got a business proposition for him.”
Cruise huffs at the thought of me speaking to Cal regarding a business proposition of any kind.
“What?” I shrug as if I’m deeply offended. “It’s legal.” Mostly.
“Here.” He messes with his phone before laying it on the table with Cal’s ugly mug staring up at me, his number just below that.
“Do Ally a favor and watch some porn.” Cruise gets up and starts heading down the hall. “Educate yourself, will you?” He shouts before shutting the door to his room.
Watch some porn.
I shake my head.
I couldn’t log enough hours in front of the tube to answer the mystery to Ally Monroe, nor would I want to. I never want that image of Ally lying in the sand to erase itself from my mind—to pervert it with the image of someone else. I just wish I could have seen the rest of the night unfold the way it was supposed to. And I’m curious as hell as to why it didn’t.
I punch a call into Cal.
It’s time to turn things around financially for Ally and me. Maybe then she’ll lose herself in ecstasy.
I give a little laugh.
It would figure.
6
LOVE BREWING
Ally
Starbucks is jumping, filled to the brim with Garrison defects happy to be free for eleven short weeks. It’s nothing but a brown and green coffee-scented flurry from the moment I arrive. Gretchen, my least favorite shift supervisor, is on, adding to the increased shit factor of this stressed-out morning.
There’s a line a mile long, right out the door, but I keep zoning out, losing myself while staring at the evergreens outside the window.
It’s not really the evergreens clogging up my mind, or nature in general. Instead, last night’s beach scene keeps replaying on a loop, and I feel lighter than air just thinking about it—just thinking about Morgan.
“Wake up!” Gretchen snaps, sharp and obtrusive like a hyena ready to attack. She looks like one too, with that large mouth and those long, hanging gums. Her blonde scraggly mane with a severe case of greying roots is enough to send anyone into hiding. Truthfully she scares the crap out of me. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if she morphs into Bigfoot at night and terrorizes the region for the sheer joy of making people panic. She’s that sadistic and weird.
I bolt to and fro, running myself ragged, trying to make coffee twelve different ways and systematically screwing up. Every. Single. Order.
“What the hell’s the matter with you?” She leans in, and her onion breath accosts my olfactory receptacles.
“I don’t know.” Morgan bounces through my mind with those killer dimples, those glowing eyes, and my insides catch fire. “I must be tired.” It’s true. I kept thinking of Morgan and his magic fingers all night, wondering if I hadn’t stopped him if he could have landed me in that mythical nirvana I’ve only read about in books. I swear he had the power to do it. I just didn’t want to look like a fool when I couldn’t get there and have to fake my way out of another situation. I really do want everything I share with Morgan to be real. I’d hate to lie about something so intimate.
“Tired?” Her face contorts into all kinds of crazy shapes, and I back into the stainless counter in fear she might explode and spew demonic confetti all over the place.
Blair steps up in line, and I make a face. Perfect. She’s the icing on this craptastic morning.
“What’s this?” Gretchen spins to gawk at the customers. “Relieve Penelope at the register.” She presses into me with that salivating scowl. “Smile, Ally. Smile like your job depends on it!” She zips off to the back.
Like my job depends on it. I let out a breath.
I take over at the helm just as Blair steps up to the counter.
“Morning.” I let out an exasperated sigh. “What can I get for you?”
Morgan strides in and bypasses the line.
“Well, look who’s here!” Blair pulls him in by the waist, her thin lips curling at the corners. “Whatever you want, I’ll do it for you—I mean, get it for you.” A lazy smile slides up her cheek. She knew damn well what she was saying the first time.
“No, that’s okay.” He glances down at her arm and tries to step away but Blair’s got him in a death grip. He reverts his attention to me, settling those steel-blue eyes over mine, and my insides pinch. “I just came by to see if you were on tonight.”
I press my lips together in a panic. I’m not sure I’ve ever said anything to him about keeping my dance career under wraps for now. I’m not exactly ready to flaunt the pole in people’s faces, especially not Blair’s.
“No. Not on.” I shake my head in a furtive manner.
“Good.” His dimples go off. “Neither am I.” Morgan’s face softens into a smile, and suddenly it’s just the two of us as the angry mob of caffeine-deprived plebeians starts to drift out of existence.
Blair puts in a double order, and I’m so nervous with the two of them watching me I punch the keys wrong, three times, before officially locking down the register.
“Shit,” I whimper. “Gretchen?” I look back hesitantly.
“What?” she barks. She glances at the seized monitor and her face glazes over. “Now you’ve done it.” She inserts her key, and starts hitting keys at random, which I’m positive will only make matters worse. “We’ll have to call in for tech support, and do the rest of the orders manually.” A fire blazes in her eyes as she grits out the words.
Crap. Functioning manually equals twice as slow.
I look up with heavy eyes, and Morgan gives a remorseful smile.
“I’ll catch you later.” He says it quietly, as if trying to preserve my fragile employment status. “I’ll be at the batting cages the rest of the afternoon.”
“Batting cages?” Blair dips her gaze to his crotch for a moment, quick to glom onto his balls and bat. “I was just heading to the gym, but my car is acting up. I’m supposed to meet up with my friend Erica. Do you think I can hitch a ride?”
“Sure.” His brows narrow in for a moment as if he doubts her car is acting up as much as her hormones.
“We’ll catch you later, Al.” Blair winks over at me. Morgan raises his brows and they head out the door. Just perfect.
“Ally,” Gretchen barks in my face. “Those customers just walked right out on an order. I’ll take the rest of your shift, since you’re feeling a bit sleepy today.” She draws her fists to her hips and squints her impossibly beady eyes over me. “In fact, you can turn in your apron and take that nap you so desperately need. I’m sick of all the excuses. I’m giving you the rest of your life off—you’re fired.”
“What?” I jump in horror at the thought of being canned. Stupid people get fired, thieves and people who are no-shows, not someone like me who’s desperately undeserving of the unemployment line. “I want to work. I want to be here. I love my job.”
“Sorry, sis. You’re the reason for the backlog, and it’s time to cut the weakest link. We need to increase productivity, not gift people replacement drinks all day long in order to rectify an error. Now go in peace or so help me God I will have you removed by security.”
My fingers fly to my lips in horror.
Shit! I take my apron off and plop it onto the counter before making my way numbly into the seating area. My feet carry me over to Lauren and Kendall, even though hanging out with my friends might land me a day pass in the county jail. The way my morning has been going I’ll probably score a life sentence while I’m at it.
“Hey,” Lauren scolds. “Get back there and get that line under control. I’m not ordering until half those people disappear.”
“I can’t.” The words barely eject themselves from my throat.
“Honey.” Lauren picks up on my sudden state of despondency. “What happened?”
“Did you just get held up? Was there just a robbery?” Kendall looks completely freaked out, as though a coffee heist were a viable option.
I shake my head. “I think I just officially lost my job.”
It all happens so fast. Kendall and Lauren shuttling me into the car while Lauren drives like a lunatic over to the gym. She hums on and on about having a spa day, steam rooms, and hot-stone massages, but I can’t wrap my head around any of it. All I can think about is how I’ve managed to fuck up my employment record and now I’ll be forced to wear a modern scarlet letter on my résumé—a big, fat F for fired. All I have left is Pretty Girls, and I can’t even make enough on most nights to pay the damn house fee. Freaking Dell.
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