Love Sex & Other Games: Part 3

by Cheryl McIntyre

  Oh, awesome.

  ~*~

  Cooper

  Three days. I haven’t seen or heard from Emerson in three goddamn days and this shit is driving me crazy. I can’t get the image of her, soaking wet and eyes full of pain, out of my head. I know what she thinks she saw. I know it hurt her badly. And I know I can clear everything up in five seconds if she would. Just. Pick. Up. Her. Phone.

  I even tried camping out on her doorstep. She never came home and I can’t stop worrying. If it weren’t for her occasional bland Facebook statuses—that give no hint as to where she is—I’d have reported her missing to the police two days ago.

  Apparently she isn’t calling Rosie back either.

  Or listening to voicemails.

  Or reading any messages, tweets, or texts. Okay, I didn’t really tweet her. But I did direct message her on Twitter. And Facebook. I’ve also driven through the parking lot of her school, searching for her car. Emailed her. Tagged her in a picture on Instagram. A picture of me, looking miserable but still, of course, ruggedly handsome, holding a sign begging for her to pick up the phone.

  Short of a smoke signal, I’m out of ideas. She’d probably just ignore them anyway.

  Damn stubborn, obstinate, sexy woman.

  In a moment of panic, I even texted Miles to see if she was with him, worried she might have used the situation to her advantage to claim what she’s always wanted. Or with the way she (mostly) misread the situation, I was terrified she would have thought Rosie left Miles and went to comfort him. And who knows what would have happened then. It occurred to me quickly that Em isn’t like that, and the alarm passed.

  Miles didn’t think much of the text since Em is Rosie’s sister and all. Apparently Rosie hasn’t talked to Miles about her late-night visit to my house. It’s not my business, and I’m staying far, far away from that mess.

  I go through the motion of cyber-stalking Emerson, my newest pastime, making my rounds through her social media. She’s tagged on Facebook. By Evan-Fucking-Mowery. Really, Ems? The douche-canoe? He checked in at a club not far from her campus. Twenty minutes ago. Perfect.

  “Hey, man,” Dante says, answering his phone. “What’s up?”

  “Change of plans for tonight. Meet me at Envy as soon as possible.”

  “Envy?” he verifies. “Why the hell do you want to go to a college bar for?”

  “To get my girl.”

  ~*~

  Emerson

  I’m three, maybe four sheets to the wind when Evan tips his double shot of Jack into my Coke. I’m not sure how many this is now. I’ve lost count. I’ve also lost my hair tie. “When did I take my ponytail down?”

  Evan laughs, running a hand over my hair. “About two drinks ago. You said it was strangling your brain, remember?”

  Vaguely. It sounds like something I’d say, at least.

  Ev shrugs. “I like it this way. You rock the whole sexy-messy-do thing. It’s hot.”

  “Thanks,” I say around my straw before taking a deep pull.

  “Not that I don’t like the ponytail,” he continues, leaning in so I can hear him over the music—something made for dancing and not much else. “It shows off your neck.” He drags a finger down my throat, pushing a little too firmly and triggering my gag reflex.

  I pull back, making sure I’m cool and not actually going to blow chunks all over our table. I wobble a little on my stool and Evan grasps my forearm, steadying me.

  “You okay?”

  I swallow down more Jack and Coke, nodding. “I’m good,” I assure him, blowing at a loose strand of hair that’s fallen in my face. “Just lamenting my hair tie.”

  Without missing a beat, his hand is back, tucking that unruly chunk behind my ear. His fingers linger and if I weren’t five, maybe six sheets to the wind, my reflexes would be quicker to sidestep all these little gestures. I don’t like him touching me. Because…

  He’s not Cooper.

  The thought makes my heart ache, so I tongue the straw into my mouth and suck down more of my drink until I’m slurping air.

  “Sounds like you need another,” he announces, attempting to signal a waitress making her rounds and I don’t argue. I do need another—I can still feel.

  His hand drifts to my shoulder, giving it a light squeeze and I cringe. I don’t mean to, it’s reflexive, but Evan doesn’t seem to notice. He’s had a lot to drink tonight too. We’ll definitely need to take a cab home.

  “Well imagine seeing you here, Emmie.” My entire body stiffens at the sound of Cooper’s voice. I know it’s him directly behind me without even looking. I pinch my eyes closed as if that will somehow hide me or transport me—in time or space, I don’t care which—but it doesn’t work.

  When I force my lids open, he’s pulling a stool over to our table, pushing it right up against mine.

  “You don’t mind if we join you, do you?”

  We?

  My head snaps to the other side, expecting to see Rosie and ready to protest, but my gaze lands on Dante’s chipper smile. He mirrors Cooper’s movements, sliding an empty stool over, crowding Evan’s personal space and squishing his way in between us.

  “Well, actually—” Evan begins.

  Cooper points at him, a murderous glint in his gaze. “Wasn’t asking you, Mowery.”

  Evan glances at me, searching for assistance.

  I narrow my eyes and swing back to glare at Coop. It might be slightly overly dramatic in my drunkenness, but I rock that shit anyway. “What are you doing here?”

  “Last Friday of the month,” he clarifies. “Guys night out.”

  “Well, don’t let us keep you from it.” My smile is tepid at best. It hurts to look at him. In all honesty, it’s almost torturous. My body wants to close those last couple of inches and wrap my arms around him. I want to breathe him in and pretend everything is okay.

  But it’s not.

  “I’m good here,” Dante chimes in. “Makes it a little party.” He shifts his attention to Evan, offering his hand. “I’m Dante, by the way. Who are you again?”

  “This is Evan,” Cooper answers for him. “And if he tries to touch Em again, I’m going to break his fucking fingers.”

  Dante nods. “I’m closer, I can do it.” His hand visibly crushes Evan’s, forcing him to jerk his arm back.

  “Are you threatening me?” Evan seethes.

  Cooper leans into the table, both arms nearly taking up the entire area as he invades Evan’s space, just as Dante is doing, only Cooper is more intimidating with the feral expression on his face as he stares Evan down. “Yes, I am threatening you. I want to be crystal clear, Ev. If you ever ply Emerson with alcohol and—or—put your hands anywhere in the vicinity of possibly grazing any part of her body again, I will beat the living shit out of you. This is the only warning you get.”

  What. The hell.

  That is either the most egotistical, misogynistic, arrogant bullshit I have ever seen…

  Or the hottest.

  I’m drunk, so my judgment is a little skewed at the moment. Should I smack him? Or climb on his lap and kiss him?

  I honestly can’t decide.

  ~*~

  Cooper

  “I don’t think you get a say about that.” Evan spits. “You guys broke up.”

  The hell we did. I tilt my head, meeting Em’s glassy gaze. “You told him we broke up?”

  “We did.”

  “No, we didn’t.”

  “Yes,” she hisses, “we did.”

  “Who says?” I ask. It’s difficult to keep sitting here, with the douche-bucket right there watching, unable to just grab Em and kiss her until she’s ready to listen to me.

  “I do. I say.”

  “Okay, and I say we’re not.” I raise my brows. “You have to have a conversation in order to break up with someone.”

  She squints, her mouth opening and closing multiple times. “You know,” I murmur close to her ear, “if you can’t figure out what to do with your mouth, I can o
ffer you an idea.”

  She shifts and we’re nose to nose. Fuck. Just an inch, maybe less, and I could bite down on her lip, draw it into my mouth, and suck on it. I’m not sure I’ve wanted anything this badly since the first time I kissed her.

  “Cooper, please don’t,” she croaks.

  My eyes flick back up to hers, wide and somber. “Ems, come outside and talk to me.”

  She shakes her head gently. “I don’t want to talk. I can’t.”

  “Then listen, damn it. Thirty seconds. That’s all I’m asking. You are making us both fucking miserable for no reason.”

  “You’re miserable?” The astonishment in her voice pisses me off.

  “Of course I’m miserable. You’ve been MIA for three fucking days, Emerson. You won’t give me the opportunity to explain anything.”

  Apparently I should have stopped at ‘of course.’ Her nostrils flare, but instead of commenting on what just came out of my mouth, she focuses back on my previous statement. “No reason?” she mocks, her voice cutting out on the second word, her face pinking with anger.

  Okay, anger’s good. At least she’s talking.

  “I saw you. Half naked with my sister. What? She decide one brother isn’t enough, she needs both? And you, you just go right along with it? Both Fitzpatrick boys, letting her drag you around by your dicks—just like in high school when you’d both show up to take her to the dances. God, she’s married now, Cooper. How could you do that to Miles? I thought you were better than that. And how does your brother feel about sharing his wife? Which is funny, by the way, because I thought you didn’t share.”

  Dante sucks air through his teeth. “Daaaamn. Round two—fight.” I ignore him, my own anger fueling me. She wants to do this here with an audience, then fine. Let’s do this.

  “What you saw was an I-will-always-care-about-you-and-we-will-always-be-friends-but-nothing-more-because-I-have-deep-emotional-and-extremely-carnal-feelings-for-your-little-sister hug goodbye. I have no idea how my brother feels about that, nor do I give a shit. And the only person who can lead me around by my dick is you.”

  “Your shirt was off,” she utters.

  I throw my hands up in frustration. Did she not hear a word I just said? Like the part that I have feelings for her? “My shirt was soaking wet from the rain. It was off when she knocked my door, which I thought was going to be you or I would have found a new shirt before I let her in. Christ, Em. I turned her down. Because of you.”

  She shivers and it takes everything in me not to pull her against me. We need to straighten this out ASAP and get to the making up part. If I can’t kiss her soon, I might completely lose my mind.

  “Turned her down? She went there to—what? Ask you to be with her?”

  I press my palms into my eyes. Why that question? I don’t want to tell her this part. It’s done and buried. But I’m not going to lie to her. Can’t I just kiss her?

  “I don’t know,” I say. “It never got that far. She told me how she felt and I told her how I felt. About you.”

  “How did she feel?” She closes her eyes and releases a ragged breath.

  “Not the same way I feel about her,” I reply.

  “How do you feel about her?”

  I wait for her to look at me before I answer. “I feel like she’s a nice sister-in-law—maybe not the best wife yet though—but hopefully in time. I’m much more interested in her little sister.”

  Evan makes a disgusted sound and it takes a shit ton of effort not to kick him under the table.

  “Dude, shut up,” Dante admonishes Evan. “They’re having a moment.”

  “Did she kiss you?”

  “What? No. NO. Nothing like that. The hug was the only physical contact we had.”

  “And you turned down whatever she was offering, for me?”

  I release a long breath and give up on not touching her, placing my hands on her face and cupping her jaw. “Not for you. Because of you. Because I want to be with you. Only you. And what I said before still stands. Always will. I don’t fucking share and I will never, ever expect you to either.”

  “Awwwe,” Dante coos. Then, “Finish her,” in his booming Mortal Kombat voice.

  I inch closer to Em, dying to feel her lips on mine. “So you need to ditch the douche-mobile, make it really clear to him we are not broken up, and then come home with me so we can make up for the three terrible days we spent apart.”

  She turns her head, still inside my hands to look at Evan, sulking with arms crossed over his chest. She shrugs apologetically. “Sorry, Ev. Cooper and I are still together.”

  “No,” I say, my voice nearly a growl.

  She swings her attention back to me. “No?”

  “Don’t apologize for having a boyfriend.”

  She grins. “You’re my boyfriend?”

  I return the smile. She’s adorable, and I love the way her brain works. “Yes, remember the part about us being together?”

  She nods, still beaming.

  “And why would you need to apologize to anyone for that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “Evan,” she calls, her eyes focused on mine. “I’m not sorry Cooper and I are together. But I am sorry I have to go.”

  “No you’re not,” I say through a smirk.

  She laughs. “I’m really not.”

  “Really, Emmie? You’re falling for this guy’s BS?” Evan scoffs. “I thought you were smarter than that.”

  “Can I hit him?” I plead.

  She shakes her head. “No. Just take me home, Boyfriend.”

  “Seriously?” Dante moans. “I didn’t even get to have a drink.”

  THE MAKE UP

  Emerson

  “Mornin’ sunshine,” Cooper sings much too cheerfully next to my ear. I smack at the air, shooing him away and pull the blanket over my head. Miraculously, I don’t have a headache—probably because Coop made me take ibuprofen and drink a bottle of water as soon as we got back to his place last night—but I’m tired. It’s the first time I’ve slept well in days and I’m not done yet.

  “How you feeling?” he whispers, ducking under the covers with me. His arm slides around my waist, pulling me back against his chest. It feels ridiculously nice. I could stay like this all day.

  “Sleepy,” I say. “Shhh.”

  He chuckles and I can feel his smile against my shoulder just before he trails his tongue across it. He kisses his way to my neck as his hand slips under my tank top, making a slow ascent toward my breast, and suddenly I’m feeling rather bushy-tailed.

  “Okay,” he concedes, “I didn’t plan on talking anyway.” This is said against the space just below my ear, causing goose bumps to explode along my skin. What an awesome way to wake up. And to think, I could have been enjoying this days ago if only I wasn’t such a judgmental asshole.

  “I’m really, really sorry,” I murmur.

  His lips pause their seduction. “You’re forgiven.”

  “Don’t let me off the hook that easily,” I protest. “I acted like an idiot. Make me suffer a little.”

  He holds the blanket so it’s still cocooning us, but sits up, rolls me to my back, then lowers himself on top of me, circling my legs around his hips one at a time. I can feel his morning wood throbbing between my legs and, holy shit, I want to rub myself against it. But I’m apologizing, so I reluctantly hold back. Although, that might be a great way to make it up to him.

  “Ems, I understand why and how you reacted the way you did. The only part that sucked was you not trusting me enough to let me explain. But I get that too. I need to earn your trust. And I’m okay with that. I like the idea of demonstrating how much I’m into you—in every way I possibly can. Now, shh. No more talking. Lay there and let me prove myself to you. We need a proper make-up session.”

  Cooper slides my top over my head, his mouth closing around my nipple immediately. We moan in unison and I give in, grinding into his erection. His teeth nip a
t my sensitive skin before he’s pulling back and dragging my pants down my legs. My panties follow next and this is new for us. I’ve never been completely naked in front of him. Not all at once.

  He positions himself between my legs, his lower half hanging off the bed as he kneels on the floor. I gather the blanket, tugging and rolling it until I can toss it aside. The cool air chills my skin, but Cooper lowers his head, placing a single, lingering kiss to my inner thigh, heating me right back up.

  His eyes never leave mine as he grips me behind my knees, drawing me closer to him. And then he lowers his head, his tongue delving between my slick folds, circling the delicate skin. I gasp, sucking in a quick breath and release it on a groan. He smiles against me, repeating the movement, his gaze full of hunger as he openly watches my shameless response.

  He dips two fingers inside me and I press my head into the mattress, biting down on my lip. Unable to bridle my own appetite, I flex my hips, moving them to ride his long fingers.

  Seriously. How could I allow myself to miss out on this for days? So. Damn. Stupid.

  I fist handfuls of his hair, provoking him to growl into my flesh. His tongue, soft and hot, continues to devour me, sampling, savoring. I’m not sure how he does it, but I feel cherished—worshipped. Sexy, beautiful…cared for. My lashes drop, eyes falling shut, and I let the sensations consume me until I’m crying his name through panted breath.

  Cooper lifts his head, mouth glistening. I cup his strong, rough jaw, guiding him up my body, basking in the weight of him against me. When I can finally reach him, I lick myself off his lips and into his mouth in a passionate kiss. When we come up for air, I roll us until Cooper is on his back. I guide his boxer briefs past his hips and down his muscular legs, dropping them to the floor, and then I twist and tuck my hair into a messy bun as quickly as I can.

  Picking up on my intentions—I think knotting the hair was a sure giveaway, because nothing says ‘I’m about to provide you with the best blow job I can’ quite like tying up one’s hair—he scrapes his teeth across his bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth.