Kissing Booth

by River Laurent

  “Impossible.”

  “Not impossible. Believe me, I have way less comfortable ones than these.”

  “Now it sounds like you’re bragging.” He crossed one ankle over the other knee, looking completely relaxed yet panty-meltingly hot at the same time. If the bottle of water in one hand had been a martini, he could’ve passed for James Bond. He was just so overwhelmingly marvelous.

  “I’m not bragging. I’m just saying.” I sank gratefully into the buttery soft leather. “Oh, my. This is very, very comfortable,” I gushed.

  His eyes crinkled. “Yeah, it’s comfortable.”

  I pointed to the massive flat screen that took up most of the opposite wall. “How much does something like that cost?”

  “Do you always ask the price of things when you visit somebody’s apartment for the first time?”

  “No, but I do babble incessantly.”

  “Gotcha.” He looked at the TV. “It was a gift, actually.”

  “A gift?” I blinked. “Who the hell gives gifts like that?”

  “A client of mine.”

  I looked at the TV, where we were both reflected. “Is your client a King? An Arab Prince? A Mexican drug lord?”

  He threw his wonderful head back and laughed. He had a great laugh, deep and resonant. “No. He’s even wealthier than that, actually.”

  “Not to brag or anything,” I shot back but messed it up with a stupid giggle. I had to stop myself, but it was as if my mouth had a mind of its own.

  He looked at me seriously. “No, not at all. It’s a fact. He is.”

  I tilted my head to the side, seeing him through new eyes. “What do you do?”

  “I work with rich people.” He raised the water bottle to his lips. The end of that part of our conversation, obviously. Just as well, since I couldn’t think straight while I was sitting so close to him. He had this intense masculinity that I just couldn’t resist. I crossed my legs in his direction.

  “So, Max. What should we do to pass the time until the Super gets here?”

  He looked over at me out of the corner of his eye, and I wasn’t sure whether I saw a knowing smirk play along the corners of his mouth. “Gee, I don’t know. What do you think we should do?”

  Shoot. I didn’t expect him to lob the ball back in my direction like that. I had no follow-up line. Boy, was I rusty with flirting. I tried to remember how Josh and I originally started out together.

  Josh. It all came rushing back at once. My chin trembled before I could stop it.

  “Um… Are you okay?” Max looked alarmed.

  “Sure, I’m fine.” Only the word “fine” came out in a loud, bleating sob. The dam broke, and all the pent-up pain and disappointment of the day came pouring out of me.

  “Jesus,” I heard him say. “What happened?” He handed me a box of tissues. I tried to thank him, but I was crying too hard.

  “My…boyfriend…my…ex-boyfriend,” I said bitterly.

  “Ohhhh. Is that why you went out and got ripped up?”

  I nodded, then blew my nose. It sounded like a cross between a tugboat and a trumpet. So hot. Who wouldn’t want a piece of me just then? “He…we were dating for over a month. I thought he was going to take it to the next level,” I sniffed pitifully.

  “That sucks.”

  “You don’t even know the half of it.” I let out a wail. I didn’t even care anymore that I sounded like an idiot. I’d gotten started, and there was no stopping me.

  “What’s the rest of it?” he asked. I felt his hand on my back. He didn’t rub, he didn’t pat. He just placed his large warm hand on my back. Somehow, that was enough. It was quite lovely, actually.

  “He has a girlfriend!”

  “Oh, the bastard.”

  “And she’s pregnant.”

  “Whoa.”

  I nodded empathically. “She emailed me at work, called me out, and sent me a picture of the ultrasound of her baby. I still can’t believe I never once suspected that I was the other woman,” I wailed inconsolably and leaned my forehead on his shoulder

  “It’s not your fault, Mimi,” he soothed.

  I wasn’t looking up, and even if I was I wouldn’t be able to see through the tears in my eyes, but it was so great being so close to him I could have stayed there forever.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I didn’t tell you the worst part,” I hiccupped.

  “Don’t tell me you’re pregnant too.”

  I gasped. “Oh, God, no!”

  “Then it’s not that bad.”

  “He’s my boss.”

  “Oh, God.”

  Mimi

  I nodded and sniffed. “He’s not my boss, but he’s a manager and I have to see him every day. I just hate it that I got involved with somebody at work because only stupid people do that.” I looked up at Max through a veil of tears. “I’m not a stupid person. I swear, I’m not stupid. You have to believe me. I’m holding my heart in my hands.”

  “I believe you.” His smile was kind, even sweet.

  I wiped my eyes. It felt like the worst was over, which was a relief.

  “Feel a bit better?”

  “No fair,” I muttered to myself.

  “What’s no fair?” he asked.

  “You don’t get to be so gorgeous and be a nice guy, too.”

  “Gorgeous?” He had been leaning in, close to me, but straightened away. “I wouldn’t call myself gorgeous.”

  “Oh, come on,” I cried indignantly. “Is your mirror broken? Or do you have really poor eyesight? Is that it?”

  He chuckled. The sound caused another strange flutter in my stomach. I looked at him. “My stomach is fluttering.”

  “You’re not going to be sick, are you?” he asked anxiously.

  I couldn’t believe he could make me laugh when I felt so completely crushed, but he did. I tried to hold it in, but before I knew it I was laughing like a hyena. Couldn’t stop. He just stared at me.

  “Ugh. I’m the worst.” I held my head in my hands. “I’m so that girl right now.”

  “That girl? What girl?” His hand was on my back again. He rubbed back and forth—not sexily, not like he was coming on to me. Just in a friendly sort of way. It was sort of amazing, though.

  “The one who makes bad decisions. She gets sloppy drunk and does stupid things like go to a stranger’s apartment and cry her eyes out like an idiot and tell him all her embarrassing issues. What a loser.”

  “Hmm. Would it make you feel better if I told you something embarrassing about myself?”

  I looked at him through my spread fingers. “Oh, please. Like you have any embarrassing stories.”

  He grimaced. “I’m a human being. We all have embarrassing stories.”

  “Well, then, yes.” I sat up, pushing my hair back over my shoulders sloppily. “Please. Soothe me with your embarrassment.”

  “Uh, let’s see. When I was a kid, I played indoor soccer for maybe two seasons. I wasn’t totally athletic back then. I was sort of a nerd.”

  “Bull…shit,” I slurred. No way, was this guy ever a nerd. Not even in a past life. I felt quite aggressive about the fact.

  “I was. I could show you some pretty tragic school pictures from those days.”

  “I will hold you to that.”

  “Anyway,” he continued, “I had never scored a goal before, and suddenly the ball came my way. I was so excited because the goal was open, so I kicked it in. I thought I was a living god, you know? I mean cheering, waving my arms around, the whole thing. Only nobody else on my team was cheering.”

  I gasped and covered my mouth with my hands. “Oh, no. It was your goal, wasn’t it?”

  He nodded, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah. I scored on my own goal. It took years to live that one down.”

  I leaned my head back dreamily. “I can imagine. That’s a pretty embarrassing thing to do.”

  “Believe me now that I was a nerd?” He said with a laugh.

  “Yo
u were a nerd,” I agreed slowly, even though secretly, he was even more of a sex god in my mind now that he had turned out to be totally the opposite of what I had expected. There was nothing sexier than a man who could laugh at himself. He put me at ease, he did his best to make me feel better. And he looked good enough to eat, on top of everything else.

  “You should probably move your bed,” I said suddenly.

  “What?’

  “I can hear you having sex,” I stage whispered.

  His eyes grew to twice their size. Up close his eyelashes were longer than a camel’s.

  “The headboard makes an awful racket,” I added.

  He folds his arms over his chest, his eyes alive with amusement. “Is the noise keeping you awake?”

  “Nope. I use ear plugs, but once a picture fell off the wall, and hit me on the head,” I said coolly.

  His lips curved into a slow sexy smile. It was like watching a speeded-up video of a flower blooming. I couldn’t look away.

  Mimi

  Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was all the emotion—feeling bruised, vulnerable, taken advantage of, or maybe it was just that languorous smile. It made my teeth ache with lust. No matter the reason, I leaned in and kissed him before I could think twice about it.

  “Mmph!” I took him by surprise, clearly, and he tensed at my sudden move, but that only lasted a split second. Suddenly he was kissing me back, and I was holding his stubble-roughened cheeks between my palms. His lips were so soft and strong at the same time.

  His arms slid around my waist and tightened, and I let him pull me in. His tongue darted over my lips. I opened them, groaning as he explored my mouth. He sucked my bottom lip into his mouth and bit it. I gasped, and suddenly the kiss changed. It was no longer exploring but taking. My mouth was crushed possessively. I was stunned. Letting go of his face, my hands roamed over his powerful shoulders and the steely muscles of his arms, my brain exploding in pleasure and awe at his body.

  I had never been kissed like this.

  Something inside me snapped, and I lost control. My breath came out in a hiss, and he thrust his tongue into my mouth. I sucked it mindlessly. This was what I wanted all along. Scrambling into his lap, I straddled him and wrapped my arms around his neck. He went with it, running his hands over my back, my butt. I moaned, thrusting my tongue into his mouth.

  We both panted, grunting, desperate.

  I scooted closer and felt his thick hardness rubbing me between my legs where I throbbed for him. I rocked my hips against him. The lust was incredible. It was a thing that had a mind of its own. It made my head sing and my blood roar in my ears.

  He groaned, gripping the back of my head with one hand, digging his fingers into my hair as he held me still. He drew my bottom lip between his and sucked before biting, gently, making me draw breath in a long hissing sound. The motion of my hips never stopped—if anything, my rocking sped up as the ache between my thighs grew more urgent. His free hand slid under my skirt, cupping my butt. I moaned, throwing my head back, ready to lose myself in him.

  The ring of the doorbell shocked us both out of it.

  I heard a voice on the other side of the door. “Hello?” The bell rang again. “Super!”

  “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Max muttered.

  I scrambled off his lap, suddenly mortified. Whatever happened to three hours? Meanwhile, he stood, making a quick adjustment below the belt before opening the door.

  “Thanks a lot,” I heard him say. “It means a lot that you came out so soon.” I turned my face away so the man in the hall didn’t see how hot and bothered I was.

  “No problem,” he said to Max. “My kid ended up getting stage fright, so we left early. Have a good one.” I heard him walk away as Max closed the door.

  I wanted to die. What the hell was I thinking, humping a total stranger? A nice stranger. A hot stranger. But a stranger I had to share a floor with. Why hadn’t I learned my lessons the first time? Now I would have to avoid Josh at work and Max at home.

  “Your key,” he murmured. I held my hand out, still averting my eyes, and felt the cool metal touch my palm. My whole body was burning up so much I felt like a pork chop on somebody’s barbecue.

  “I should go,” I whispered, gathering up my used tissues and purse and making a quick exit.

  “Hang on,” Max said, but I ignored him and rushed out.

  When I got through my front door, I locked the door behind me. I didn’t think. I just headed straight for the bedroom, threw myself on the bed and promptly passed out.

  Max

  “That was totally unexpected,” I murmured to myself, as I stared at the closed door.

  The heat of her body was gone, but I could still taste the sweetness of her lips on my tongue. Her smell lingered on my shirt, flooding my senses. My cock was rock hard and aching, and my whole body burned with a raw need to slide my hand under her skirt and touch her smooth skin again. The urge to follow her to her place and finish what she started was shocking.

  Wait a second…what the hell was I thinking?

  The last thing in the world I needed was to fuck my neighbor. Dear God, imagine that kind of complication. No, just no. Even the idea should give me the creeps. My style was hit and run.

  My antenna went up from the first moment I saw her a year ago. I knew she was trouble, and that was why I gave her a wide berth. I just didn’t know how much trouble until a few minutes ago. Damn it to hell. Why did she have to lock herself out tonight?

  I exhaled. What I needed was a stiff drink.

  My favorite bottle of Scotch waited on the bar cart. The first sip helped me to herd my primitive thoughts back to reality.

  There was no room for relationships or commitments in my life right now. I needed to focus on business. A woman like that would be pure distraction. The kind of distraction that could drive a man crazy. I had enough on my plate. The line had to be drawn right now. She was off limits. Absolutely, no more contact with her.

  The second sip helped me remember I was living in a city with an endless supply of willing women. So, she was sexy and maddeningly cute with the goddamn most beautiful blue eyes I’d ever seen, but she was not irreplaceable. No one was. What I needed was more women like the one I had last night. Women who didn’t make me want more than just one night with them.

  I wondered uncomfortably what made me tell her about the soccer game. I’d never told anyone that story. She must be the sort of person who effortlessly tricked you into opening up and spilling cringeworthy memories.

  All I had to do was keep away from her. She wouldn’t be here long. She was fighting a losing battle. I knew how these things worked. The offers were going to get crazier and crazier, and one day her magic number would come up, and she would be gone just like the rest of the people in the building. It was only a matter of time. Once she was gone I’d never see her again.

  My phone buzzed. I pulled it out and frowned when I saw who it was. Rule Number One: Never give your phone number to random hook-ups. Bridget was too foxy for that though. She knew my family so she hunted my mother down and tricked her with the “I left my Grandmother’s earrings at his place” story. My unsuspecting mother gave her my number. Rule Number Two: Do not sleep with people who know your family.

  “Hi, Bridget.”

  “Hi!” she squealed enthusiastically. That took care of my erection. Thanks, Bridget.

  “I’m busy,” I said, looking around my empty apartment. “Do you need something?”

  She didn’t even pause. “You. I need you,” she purred.

  I died a little inside. We’d had fun. Why did there have to be more than that? “I don’t want to be a dick, Bridget, but we’ve had this talk before.”

  “I know, but there’s nothing saying we can’t have fun again, is there?” Her voice was low. She thought she was being seductive. If she knew how many times I’d heard that line, she’d cry herself to sleep.

  “Actually, yes, there is. It won’t be fun for me.”


  “Oh! Stop being so mean, Maximus.” I hate women who call me Maximus. I could imagine her sitting in her apartment on the other side of town, pouting while twirling a lock of her blonde hair around one finger, trying to figure out how to trap me.

  “I don’t want to be an asshole, but you keep putting me in a position where I have to be.”

  “Don’t get mad at me.” Her voice broke on a sob.

  Oh, for fuck’s sake. Women. They were all fucking nuts. I took a deep breath. “I’m not mad,” I said as calmly as I could. “You’re a beautiful girl. You have a lot to offer. There’s gotta be a lot of guys out there who would be thrilled to have you.”

  I poured a second drink. It was just that kind of night.

  “But I want you, Max. You’re the only guy who ever made me come like that.” She gave a girlish giggle.

  I smelled bullshit but kept my thoughts to myself. “That’s a nice compliment.” I walked to the bedroom, drink in hand, sat on the bed and took off my shoes. I was supposed to meet up with friends for dinner, but I missed it while waiting for the Super to get here. I guess I was in for the night—the way my luck was running, I’d end up getting an anvil dropped on me.

  “It’s the truth,” she insisted.

  “I believe you,” I lied, putting my shoes away. I liked order, tidiness. In all areas of my life.

  “So, why do you keep pushing me away?”

  I really didn’t need this hassle. I made a mental note to remind my naïve mother never to give my phone number to any woman again even if they claimed to have left their entire jewelry collection in my bedroom.

  “I’m not pushing you away. I’m just letting you know again how it is. I enjoyed my time with you, but as I told you before, I’m not in the market for anything but casual sex,” I said wearily.

  “I was just hoping you would change your mind, I guess.”

  “I’m sorry, Bridget.”

  “Just give me a chance?” She needn’t have bothered. She didn’t have a chance in hell. The term one-timer was invented for women like her. She was jealous, clingy, needy, and stupid. Now, the sex-bomb next door. She was a whole different story. That’s the kind of women you want to make memories with. Christ, I need to stop thinking about her.