by Paige Prince
Chapter Two
I was dreaming of tall, tattooed men with dark hair, kind eyes, and muscles for days when the stupid, stupid sun filtered through my window. I attempted to roll away from the offending light and drift back into dreamland, but strong arms wrapped around me and tightened around my waist, bringing me against a very large, very hard body. My eyes flew open and I caught a glimpse of distinctive tribal markings on a muscular bicep.
I lay there, trying to remain still so I wouldn’t wake him. But when he stirred against me, I knew it was already too late. He pressed a kiss to the back of my shoulder. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” I stared at the Escher print that inspired my favorite scene in Labyrinth on the wall, wondering how the hell to proceed from here. I hadn’t woken up next to a man in over two years. To say I was out of practice was like saying Godzilla was a little lizard.
Evan snuggled closer to me and moved my hair so he could kiss my shoulder. When he moved to my neck, my eyes widened, and I clamped my mouth shut.
Oh God, morning breath! I can’t let him kiss me. Or roll over and talk to him. How do I wiggle out of bed to go brush my teeth without being obvious?
“Now, you don’t want to make me feel self-conscious, do you?” I could hear the teasing smile in his voice.
My stomach jumped into my throat. “Did I say that out loud?”
He nodded against my shoulder before turning me onto my back. Seemingly unconcerned we were both naked, he moved the blankets off us and straddled my waist, leaning on his knees so he wouldn’t crush me. Looking up at him bathed in sunlight, I noticed his brown eyes had little flecks of green.
“Charlie, I’m not worried about your morning breath. Or mine, for that matter. I’d rather focus on kissing the beautiful woman who spent last night in my arms.” Leaning down, he pressed a chaste kiss to my lips. “And under me.” Another kiss to my neck, just below my ear. “On top of me.” He trailed his tongue down my neck and over my chest before kissing between my breasts and moving back up to claim my mouth in a toe-curling kiss.
My hands found their way into his hair as he fucked my mouth with his tongue. I loved the way the short locks felt in my fingers—so silky, so soft. So opposite the big, bad persona he showed on TV every week.
When we finally pulled apart, we were both breathless, and I no longer cared what my breath smelled like, since all I tasted was Evan.
Rolling back to his side of the bed, he knocked his head against my wooden headboard. I couldn’t help but bark out a laugh as he rubbed the back of his tender skull. “Aren’t you supposed to be the big, tough wrestler who gets knocked around every week?”
Evan glared over at me in what I’d seen as his “Beast” expression in my research before meeting him for the interview. “What do you mean who gets knocked around? Don’t you know I’m the one who does the ass kicking in the ring?”
The bed creaked as he sat up and started tickling me, and I temporarily feared for the safety of my bedframe. My arms flailed out trying to knock his hands away, but his strength far outmatched mine, and my giggles shook my body so hard any attempt at gaining purchase on the mattress failed.
“Stop! Please!” I gasped between bouts of laughter.
“Admit I’m king of the ring, and I’ll stop.”
I let out a high-pitched noise I refused to admit sounded anything like a squeal. “Fine, fine. You’re king of the ring!”
Evan grinned as he settled back onto the pillows—the only part of the bed that survived the tickle assault unscathed. The beautiful, and expensive, white down comforter lay on the floor in a crumpled heap. My eight hundred-thread count sheets—a present from my mom when I graduated college—looked like someone had jammed them in a corner and left them for a year, with all the wrinkles now firmly imprinted on them.
Of course, the sheets had probably been my fault with how much I’d kicked and thrashed while Evan tickled me.
Still, having him in my bed, seeing his olive skin against my cream-colored linens, remembering the things he’d done to me—with me—in that very spot…my fingertips tingled with the need to touch.
“What time is it?” Evan asked, looking around the room, probably for a clock.
The alarm behind him on the headboard read 7:14. Entirely too goddamn early to be awake on a Saturday, even if I didn’t mind the reason for being up. I pointed to the clock and told him the time, realizing he’d probably have to get going soon. My research indicated wrestlers were on the road the majority of the year, traveling from show to show around the world and keeping fans happy.
I suddenly wondered if I was one of those fans—despite never having watched an episode in my life—and if all his, “Aw shucks, I’m such a nice guy” stuff was purely to get me in bed—check—and make sure he walked away with a sterling reputation.
If Mel were here, she probably would’ve slapped me in the face. She’d been trying to push me back into the dating pool for well over a year, and I’d resisted—loudly and with several four-letter words—at every turn.
But then, if Mel had been there, it would’ve been a mighty awkward situation, given Evan’s and my severe case of nudity.
An uncomfortable silence settled between us. I lay there next to him, letting my breathing calm down as Evan reached over to play with the ends of my hair that fell across his pillow.
“So…” I imagined if we were standing, I’d shuffle my feet uncomfortably as I fiddled with my cell phone or purse or whatever was handy. “I guess you need to head out soon?”
His lips twitched into a sexy half grin that made me want to climb on and ride him all over again. “Trying to get rid of me?”
My eyes widened, and my jaw dropped. So flattering, especially with my awesome morning breath, but he’d caught me off guard. “Um…huh?” Clearly, I was on my A-game. I really should have a pot of coffee programmed to brew before I wake up. Right next to my bed.
Hard muscles flexed and drew my eyes as he rolled on his side to face me. I wanted to trace every inch of his intricately tattooed skin. With my tongue. Oh wait, I did that already.
“I asked if you’re trying to get rid of me. I don’t usually pull a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am. Even on the road.” Evan shrugged, his cheeks pinking up as much as his olive skin could. “I’m not that kind of guy. Cliché, I know. But I’m not.”
My eyes burned with the urge to roll and the strength it took to resist. Next thing he’ll be telling me he saves puppies on the weekends and feeds the homeless in a soup kitchen he finances and staffs, himself. Sitting up in the bed, I drew my knees to my chest. “I don’t usually do this, either. But look, I get it. You’re famous. You’re on the road a good majority of the year. This was fun, and I’d love to do it again—”
And again, and again, and again. The look on his face said he’d like to, as well.
“—but I know the playbook here. We’ll exchange numbers and might even text a few times, but one of us will start getting busier, and we won’t have time to talk anymore. Then one day…” I put my fingers to my mouth and blew like there was a puff of smoke in my hands. “Poof, no more texts.”
Evan cocked his head to one side and gave me a quizzical look. “It’s like you don’t know me at all, Kevin Spacey.” He winked when I smiled. He’d gotten my Usual Suspects reference. “Oh that’s right—you don’t. So, why don’t you let me take you to breakfast and give me a chance? You might even find you like me just as much out of bed as you do in.”
You’re too good to be true.
A dimple appeared in his right cheek as he smiled wide and shrugged. “Probably, but I’m a hungry guy who’s too good to be true. So, will you go to breakfast with me or do I have to go raid your kitchen?”
“Oh shit, I said that out loud.” The back of my head hit the headboard with a thud. “I don’t have a mental filter without coffee. As for you stepping foot in my kitchen…” My knees popped when I jumped off the too-tall bed. At some point, I’d buy a new one or
have this one lowered, but it’d have to wait until I got a steadier job than freelancing for the newspaper. “Not going to happen. Ever.”
With that, I turned and padded into the bathroom to turn the water on for a shower.
“Care for some company?” he called after me.
“As tempting as that thought is,” I said as I pulled an extra towel from the closet, “I don’t know if I can handle another round yet. It’s a wonder I can walk at all at this point.” I glanced back at him and winked. “Not that I’m complaining.”
“I promise. A shower.” He climbed off the bed held his hand out to me. “Please?”
I linked my fingers with his, “How can I refuse such a request?”
Of course, it wasn’t just a shower, but I couldn’t say I minded. Since all he had were the clothes he wore last night, I loaned him one of my larger T-shirts to wear with his slacks. The fabric stretched across his broad chest, showing off his delicious muscles and making my mouth water. I pulled on a tank top and a short denim skirt, and then I convinced him to let me cook for him so I could show off my culinary skills.
I whipped up eggs, bacon, and biscuits from scratch, humming and dancing around my little kitchen like a pro. Or maybe a lunatic. Okay fine, both. Sitting at the dining table, we ate like we’d both been starved for the past week.
“What are your plans for today? Do you wanna go catch a movie or something?”
“I have no idea what’s playing now, but sure.”
He leaned over and gave me a quick kiss, “Great. Why don’t you check the show times and pick out what you want to see. Text me the information—I don’t know if I’ll be in an interview or not—and I’ll pick you up around…say, two hours before show time? So we can grab something to eat before… I mean, if you want.”
“Sounds perfect,” I stood to take my plate to the sink and rinse it off before sticking it in the dishwasher.
He got up as I ran the other tableware under the water and set his plate on the counter next to the sink, “Why don’t you let me take care of the dishes?”
“It’s okay.”
He gently pushed me aside, “You did the cooking. I should do the cleaning, at least.”
I almost jumped up and down. I don’t have to do the dishes for once? Thank you God! “That’s very nice of you.” Like I’m going to argue.
I did my hair while he loaded the dishwasher and set it to run. He came into my room and sat on the edge of my bed, watching as I ran the flatiron through my tresses and pulled it half back so my bangs weren’t in my eyes. We talked about my aversion to washing dishes and his to laundry. He laughed when I told him I’d rather lick the bottom of someone’s foot than wash dishes.
“Okay, I’ll do the dishes if you do the laundry.”
“Yeah, with all the time you’re going to be in Houston, right?” I set my flatiron down and grabbed my hair spray from the cabinet. My hair tends to poof if I don’t coat it with hairspray and comb through it with a fine-toothed brush.
“Well, I’ll be here quite a bit throughout the next month. The boss has us all doing promotional work, and since I’m such a big draw, I’ll be out here more often than most.”
“Not full of yourself at all, are you?” I smirked and turned out the bathroom light as I walked back into the bedroom.
He shrugged. “That’s what the boss man told me. I’ll fly out for house shows and tapings, maybe a few appearances in other cities, but for the most part, I’m here in Houston until October.”
“Oh. Well, that’ll be nice.”
“I think so. It’ll give me some time to get to know you.”
I looked up from digging around in my sock drawer. “Huh?” God, I’m so eloquent.
“I don’t do one night stands.”
“You don’t have to say that, Evan. This was fun. And while it’d be fun again, we both know it’s not likely we’ll be in the same location long enough to sustain a relationship. We’re both constantly on the road. I’m a freelance journalist; I can be sent anywhere at any time.”
The look on his face stunned me. Was he actually hurt? “I like you, Charlotte. We’ve had a great time together, and despite the distance, I think we could be friends…maybe even more.”
“Look, I’m sorry. I…don’t know how to approach this. I haven’t had anything resembling a relationship—or whatever you want to call it—in a long time. Guess I’m out of practice.”
He pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around my waist and settling me between his legs before nuzzling the side of my neck. “Guess we’ll have to get you back into shape.”
***
Beep boop beep! Beep boop beep! The familiar, if annoying, Skype ringtone sounded from my computer across the room. Grabbing my wine glass, I climbed off my comfy couch and made my way over to answer the call. Clicking the little green phone on screen, I turned and walked back to the coffee table.
“Charlie?” Evan’s voice filtered through my speakers, tinny and a little fuzzy, but still somehow managing to send shivers down my spine.
“I’m here,” I called over my shoulder. “Forgot the bottle.” When I sat down at the kitchen table currently serving as my desk, I could see his eyebrow shoot up.
“Have a bad day?”
If you call shoving a tape recorder into the face of a grieving mother who just lost her child a bad day, sure. “Just the job getting to me.” I leaned my elbow on the table and laid my head in my hand. Wouldn’t be winning any awards for sexiness tonight, but if he liked me with my dragon breath, he’d like me slouched over. Frankly, I was out of fucks to give.
Something crashed in the background and I heard someone apologizing. Evan rolled his eyes and raised his hands in what I assumed was an “it’s fine” gesture, then pointed at the computer. “On Skype with my girl. Do you mind?”
“You got a girl? No fuckin’ way!” The deep male voice shouted before I heard what sounded like a stampeding elephant. “Lemme see her! Is she hot? I bet she’s hot.” The room behind Evan spun as his roommate grabbed the computer. A large tattooed guy with short dark hair filled the screen. He looked at the computer for a second, then glanced over at Evan. “Goddamn, Rodriguez, you hit the fuckin’ jackpot! Is she a model?” Looking back at me, he asked, “Are you?”
It was difficult not to smile at the compliment, even with the interruption of our Skype call. “No, I’m not. But thanks for thinking that. I’m actually a reporter.”
The wrestler’s eyes widened. “A reporter? Evan, bro, you’re sleeping with the enemy!” Just as I was opening my mouth to say something, he cracked up. “Kidding! I think it’s great this dope found someone. Now maybe you’ll distract him enough, the big boss will realize it’s time for me to have the belt.”
The guy toppled over when Evan shoved him out of the way. “Never gonna happen. Now get outta here. I want to spend some quality time with my girlfriend before I have to listen to you snore all night.”
“I do not snore, fucker!”
Evan rolled his eyes. “Sure you don’t, Keith. And you don’t travel with your childhood blankie, either.”
I heard the door open. “It’s my good luck token, you dick!” It slammed as I assumed he stormed out of the room.
My jaw dropped when Evan started laughing. “Didn’t you just get into a fight with your friend?”
“Nah, we always fuck with each other. He’ll probably bring pie when he comes back ’cause he knows I can’t resist. It means extra time at the gym, but fuck it. Apple pie is always worth the extra cardio—even if I loathe running more than anything on this planet.”
I squinted at him, pretending to look hard at something. “Take your shirt off.”
His laughter stopped cold. “Huh?”
“You heard me. Take your shirt off.”
He took no time in whipping it off and tossing it to where I assumed the bed was. “Okay, what do you want me to do now?”
My mouth watered at the mere sight of all that exposed flesh. I’d res
isted watching any of the televised shows because I didn’t want to risk every pair of panties I own getting soaked through at the sight of him in those little wrestling Speedo things. “Stand up. Turn around slowly.”
He did, and I almost fainted. Jeans low slung, I could see the V of his muscles; my fingers itched to trace those lines. To follow them with nails and tongue. As he spun, I could see the jeans hugging his tight, perfectly shaped ass.
This was a bad idea.
“See anything you like?” He asked as he leaned toward the computer, resting a hand on the table where it sat.
I nodded. “No.”
Evan cocked his head to the side and sat back down. “Um. Huh?”
“Kidding.” I grinned, happy to be out of my bad mood. “But seriously, you talk about needing extra time in the gym when you eat pie... Do you even have any body fat?”
The sound of his laughter filled the room. “Of course I do. If you’re real nice to me, I’ll even let you inspect me for my squishy places when I come back to town.”
Holding my breath so I wouldn’t giggle-snort, I pursed my lips. “Well, I could be persuaded to be nice. If you let me inspect you thoroughly.”
Both eyebrows raised in what I assumed was his attempt at mock innocence. But Evan, especially when looking at me, always looked more than a little naughty. “Charlie baby, is there any other kind of inspection?”
***
“The oven’s beeping, Mel.” I nudged her so she’d get off the couch.
She nudged me back, pushing a little harder and almost making me spill my pinot. “So? It’s your kitchen!”
Pausing the show, I turned to glare at her. “They’re your cookies. I don’t eat walnuts, remember? You bake ’em, you pull ’em. Them’s the rules.”
Mel stuck her tongue out and whipped her nearly waist-length blonde hair at me. “Okay, fine. But for your information, I left the walnuts out. I only make those at my place when I know you’re not coming over.”
“Aww, Mel!” I jumped up, knocking the huge green microfiber blanket we’d been using to cuddle to the ground. “You do love me!”