by Jewel E. Ann
“PMSing?”
I laugh because Kai may be a brilliant student and he’ll probably be an equally brilliant doctor someday, but when it comes to reading women who don’t want sex from him, he has the skills of a toddler.
“Yeah, sure, I’m probably just PMSing.”
“Well, take some Advil and eat some chocolate or something. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He smiles, once again oblivious to what’s really happening in my life.
“Bye, Kai Pie.”
“Stop calling me—”
I slam the door and grin at his huffy scowl. He pulls away from the curb allowing my gaze to lift to the set of steps across the street. I glance both ways then walk toward my insanely handsome neighbor.
“You’re a ball of yarn and a set of knitting needles away from looking like a complete dork sitting out here with only a few minutes left of daylight on a Saturday evening.”
Oliver takes his time allowing his eyes to explore me while brushing his index finger over his bottom lip. “I can’t say that I’ve ever been called a dork before.”
“Not to your face anyway.” I giggle.
His eyes find mine and he shakes his head, relinquishing a slight grin. “Come in for some wine.” He holds out his hand.
“Thanks, but no thanks.” I gesture to my clothes. I’m a mess from today, in desperate need of a shower, and it’s a little creepy that you’re so quick to try and get me tipsy.”
“So invite me over and take a shower while I get a little tipsy.”
Gathering my hair in my hands, I pull it off my neck, feeling sweaty on this balmy evening. “You really think that’s a good idea?”
Oliver scrubs his hands over his face. “Probably not, but I’m all out of good ideas tonight.”
Releasing a deep breath, I offer him my hand. “You’re more dangerous than your brother.”
He takes my hand and stands. “Why do you say that?”
“Because it’s easy to say no to him.”
*
I’m in the shower, naked, and Oliver’s downstairs. I’m in the shower naked, and Oliver’s downstairs.
My mind reels. I’m alone in the shower having the most erotic moment of my life. Desire blossoms and just his proximity downstairs heightens all my senses. It’s his hands massaging shampoo into my hair, sliding down my neck and over my breasts, teasing my erect nipples. Closing my eyes I feel his fingers dip between my legs, parting me and teasing me.
“Oh God!” I moan, resting my other hand on the shower wall while my fingers, his fingers, pulse over my most sensitive area.
Knock, knock, knock!
“I’m going to run home and grab my phone, be right back.” Oliver’s voice drenches me in cold water.
“O-okay.” The frog in my throat croaks.
I skip the orgasm—wouldn’t be the first time that opportunity has gone down the drain. After drying off, I pick out a pair of light pink lace panties and a matching bra. Not to look sexy—that would be a lost cause—just to feel sexy. There really is something to be said for feeling sexy. I know it changes my whole persona. One day I wore a long sundress without any underwear and Alex commented on me having an extra bounce in my step.
Lotion, perfume, a little makeup, and a partial drying of my hair expedites my return to Oliver. Turning my back toward the full-length mirror, I glance around to see how much of my ink shows along the straps of my tank top. Not much, just enough to make me look mysterious, sexy, and badass. Okay, that’s Alex’s quote, but I like how she thinks.
“Looking for a better offer?” I tease, skipping down the stairs seeing Oliver messing with his phone.
“Yes, but it appears you’re as good as it’s going to get tonight.”
“Funny guy, huh?”
“Not usually.”
“You tipsy yet?” I grab my purse.
“Not yet. You haven’t exactly been the most gracious hostess.”
“Let’s go then.” I open the door and wait.
“Go where?” He stands and hesitates a moment before walking to the door.
“J.P. Licks for mango sherbet.”
“You want me to come watching you eat ice cream?”
“What did you just—”
He scratches his stubbly jaw. “Shit, I didn’t mean or what I meant was coming … uh, crap! I just meant we’re coming together … dammit!”
It’s quite possible I could wet my pants I’m laughing so hard as he stumbles through his self-induced awkward moment, rubbing his face and tugging at his hair.
“Never mind, let’s just go,” he mumbles, walking ahead of me.
I wipe the tears from the corners of my eyes. Hurrying to catch up with him, I grab his hand and interlace our fingers. He looks down at our hands and then at me.
“Thought you could use a hand.”
“Hilarious,” he says, focusing on the sidewalk in front of us.
“I think so.”
*
“First kiss?” I ask.
“Jenna Reed, second grade. You?”
“Milfred Mumford third grade. First heartbreak?”
“Wait just a minute … your first kiss was with a girl?”
“No, Milfred is definitely not a girl. He ended up being the biggest jock in our graduating class and a total stud on the rugby field.”
“Milfred?”
“His mom thought for sure he was a girl and she wanted to name him after his grandmother, Mildred, even after he came out with a surprise penis. His dad liked the name Fred, so after much dispute and a week of him being called Baby Boy Mumford they settled on the name Milfred.”
“Well, good God! Didn’t he have a middle name to go by instead?”
“Hazel.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I shake my head and giggle, sucking the sherbet off my spoon. Oliver willingly plays my game of firsts as we enjoy our cold treats. I know his first trip to the hospital was for a broken leg from soccer. His first time on an airplane was to Michigan to visit his grandparents when he was six months. First car was a red Camaro. His first time breaking the law was in his Camaro when he had his license revoked for driving over one hundred miles per hour on the interstate just outside of Boston at 2:00 a.m. when he was seventeen.
“First Ivy League college you pretended to attend?” Oliver taps his spoon on his teeth.
“Ah, I’ve got you on this one. It’s driving you crazy not being able to figure out why I’m not in school.”
He doesn’t respond, just keeps tapping away like a ticking clock.
“Fine.” I stab my spoon into the melting scoops. “Shortly after I got accepted my dad lost his job and then we had some unexpected medical expenses that were paid with the money they had managed to save for my college education. My guidance counselor was confident that I would receive a fair amount of scholarship money, but when that fell through I didn’t have the heart to tell my parents that I could no longer afford to go to Harvard. It’s not that my parents are dumb or anything like that. They just trusted their 4.0 GPA-child, who was planning on getting a degree in business, would have all the financial details figured out and arranged. They also made such a big deal about their baby going to Harvard, to say they were proud is a monumental understatement. So when my best friend Kai got accepted too, we both thought it might be in everyone’s best interest for me to appear like I was going to Harvard until I saved up enough money to actually go to Harvard … which has to be this fall.”
“You’re starting school in the fall?”
“Yep, they gave me a two year deferment which is nearly impossible to get unless you’re in the Peace Corp or something like that. However, given the job loss, medical, and financial issues my family encountered, I managed to get two years instead of one.”
He purses his lips to the side and the cogs in his head are so loud I’m certain the people across the street can hear them. “Has it ever occurred to you that there might be a special place in hell reserved for you and Ale
x for the great deception you both have going on with your parents?” Oliver raises a single brow.
“Without a doubt.” I laugh. “But if you feel like you’ve already been to hell and back, then for some reason a return trip in the afterlife doesn’t seem like such a big deal. You know what I mean?”
Oliver’s face falls somber. “Yes, I think I know what you mean. How long did it take you to get back?” His words are soaked in anguish; they’re heavy, sucking the air from the room.
I shrug, leaning back in the chair, still feeling ghostly remnants of my trip to hell. “A little less than two years.”
“How’d you know you were back?
I peek up at his tensed face and smile. “One morning I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror.”
Oliver nods, maybe pondering my statement as a metaphorical one, but it’s not. I mean it in the most literal sense.
“So have you always lived in Cambridge?”
He smiles. “Yes. Born and raised. I was the overachiever, steadfast in my determination to follow in our parents’ footsteps to graduate from Harvard and conquer the world. Chance, suffered from ADHD and while his grades were okay, he had no desire to sit in another classroom after he graduated high school. Our parents were disappointed, but they have always been loving and supportive of our decisions and they didn’t hesitate to help Chance get up and going with his own business.”
“Do you like working with Chance?”
“I like playing in the dirt. Working with Chance…” he grins “…that’s yet to be determined.”
“Do you miss Portland?”
“No. Shall we go? You still need to get me tipsy then make inappropriate sexual advances at me that we’ll both regret in the morning.” His eyes light up, maybe too much.
I’m. In. Trouble.
He’s sexy, irresistible, and … guarded.
*
Oliver
Clueless. I have no idea what the hell I’m doing wandering around chasing a young woman who does not need the head case that is Oliver Konrad. There’s only one problem: I can’t stop. Vivian is so plain she’s wildly interesting. I’ve never seen her pull out a compact or reapply lipstick. People stare at her because she is truly stunning, but she’s oblivious to every set of admiring eyes. When she clasps her hand with mine it feels as natural as folding my own together.
I deserve nothing, yet I want her every word, every smile, every laugh … and tonight I want her every touch.
“Which car is yours?” I ask as we approach her condo.
“I don’t have a car. I’m the queen of public transportation. It’s better for the environment, sometimes entertaining, but mainly it’s cheap.” She laughs. “Maybe when I’m CEO of the company that pushes Amazon off the map I will at least purchase an old beater so I can buy more than two bags of groceries at a time.”
“Pushing Amazon off the map, huh? That’s a mighty ambitious dream.”
She releases my hand to unlock her door. “Maybe, but I watched an interview of Jeff Bezos and he admitted that eventually another company would come along that would be better than Amazon because that’s just life. Nothing lasts forever and at some point the next best thing will happen.” She tosses her keys and purse down as we enter. “So why not me? Why can’t I be the next best thing?”
I follow her into the kitchen, trying not to stare at her legs that stretch to infinity.
“Beer or wine?”
“Water’s good.”
She gapes at me. “Water? Really? How are you supposed to get tipsy on water? How am I supposed to make inappropriate sexual advances?”
“You’re dangerous. I think I’d better keep my wits about me,” I say with a slow wink.
She laughs. “Yes, because I’m such a sexual predator. If you only knew.” Vivian hands me a glass of water and, as usual, she leaves me hanging with her mysterious comment.
A chime sounds. “Have a seat while I find my phone.”
She tosses a strange assortment of things out of her purse, such as yarn, a tank top, two Snickers, and a bottle of hot sauce before finding her phone at the bottom.
“What is it, Kai?” She rolls her eyes. “No, Alex has her car … well, get a cab. I thought you were going home. How stupid are you to go to the bar by yourself?” She turns her back to me, lowering her voice. “No, I’m busy. No, I have company. Not a date, just company. Well, then take the subway and go get your car in the morning, dipshit.”
She tosses the phone back in her purse and buries it again with her unusual necessities.
“Sorry, my friend’s girlfriend is out of town and I’m pretty sure she took his brain with her.”
“Do you need to borrow my car to go get him?”
“Hell, no! Kai is a bloodsucking leach. He takes and takes and loves to be coddled. He won’t drive home drunk, he just doesn’t want to leave his car overnight, but that’s just too damn bad.”
“You’re a little fiery tonight. Must be all that hot sauce you keep in your purse for whatever reason.”
She grins and her whole body relaxes as she sits next to me on the couch with her feet tucked under her. “I accidentally picked it up at a Mexican restaurant. I’ve been meaning to return it.”
“You can’t be serious.” I chuckle.
“Totally, it’s the difference between borrowing and stealing. I do have morals, you know.”
I’m hearing her, as evidenced by the uncontrollable grin on my face, but I also find myself counting the light freckles that dot the bridge of her nose and high cheek bones. If I connect them in the correct order will they uncover the secret of her addictive personality?
“Are you listening to me? Why are you looking at me like that?” She tilts her head to the side.
“Yes, borrowing, stealing, morals. Got it.” My hand moves to her face on its own accord. There’s an audible catching of her breath as I brush the back of my hand along her cheek. “Not a date, huh?”
She shakes her head. “We don’t … date. Remember?” Each word comes out as a shaky whisper.
I nod. “That’s unfortunate because if it were a date, I’d kiss you … like this.” I’m being a selfish prick. At some point over the past few days I’ve convinced myself that I need to taste her mouth. Lust-filled eyes fall to my lips as I lean into her. It’s all the permission I need. I brush my lips over hers, moving my other hand up to cradle her face. She melts into me as I tease my tongue over the seam of her lips. She opens for me and all the blood from my brain drains into my dick. I feel the slow throb building at a record pace.
“Mmm …” She vibrates over my mouth as I consume every inch of hers.
I’m dying to move my hands away from her face, down her neck, and over her breasts … breasts that I imagine are heavy with firm nipples. Just the feel of her nipples budding out from my touch would cause me to lose it. It’s been too long since I’ve touched a woman and Vivian is not like any other woman.
It’s the slow rip off of a Band-Aid as I pull away from her. She’s wide-eyed and breathless. I need to get the hell out of here. The entrance to the danger zone has been breached and the warning sirens pierce my ears.
Her tongue peeks out to brush along her lips like she’s savoring the taste of me on her.
“It is unfortunate.” She grins and my dick continues to strain against my jeans with no relief in sight as I see naughty intentions dancing in her eyes. “Because if it were a date and you kissed me like that, I’d want to crawl up on you … like this.” She sits up on her knees and straddles me with a leg on either side.
Oh fuck!
My hands rest on her hips as she lowers herself onto my lap. Those sexy green eyes shut when the apex of her legs meets the bulge in my pants. Her mouth goes slack as her breaths come short and quick with each prominent rise and fall of her chest. “And then I’d run my hands through your hair … like this.”
Her fingers lace through my hair. “And … oh God…” she licks her lips and swallows as her eyes shut f
or a brief moment “…the feel of your hard body against mine would make me want more of this.” She clenches her fingers in my hair, and with a firm tug she pulls my mouth to hers again.
I’m a caged animal ready to break out and attack her. It takes everything I have to not rip off her clothes and bury myself in her.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
Her hungry tongue strokes mine as she rocks her pelvis with the same subtle motion against my dick. I dig my fingers into her hips as she grinds against me. What the fuck is she doing to me? The sensible voice in my head speaks up. It always does, but I don’t call it the voice of reason. I call it the voice of ruin because it’s ruined so many moments that promised such pleasure.
I pull back. “If it were a date, I’d stay longer but … since it’s not I should––”
“Touch me,” she whispers through her labored breathing. “Show me how you’d touch me if this were a date.” Her words aren’t teasing or seductive; they’re a desperate plea. I watch her and through the silence between us I hear her with absolute clarity. My hands move up her sides and slide to her breasts. The thin material of her top does little to hide the equally thin layer of her bra covering erect nipples.
“If this were a date … I’d touch you like this.” My voice breaks on the last word as she rests her hands on my shoulders, eyelids fluttering for control. My untamed needs fade into the background as I knead her breasts, circling my thumbs over her nipples with a slow firm motion.
Mesmerized. That’s all I am right now. As Vivian gives in to my touch, her face tenses and her head falls, hair long and flowing down her back. I don’t know how, but I’m allowing this to be about her, for her. Even as her hips rock into me over and over, I remain still. Only my hands move with the sole purpose of bringing her pleasure.
“Oliver … please don’t stop.” The vulnerability in her voice is raw.
Her eyes blink open just as her nails dig into my shoulders. She presses her hips against me one last time, and her eyes roll back into her head. “Oh … My … God,” she moans in ecstasy.
I swear the image of Vivian coming apart from my touch will forever be etched in my memory.
Her forehead rests against mine and I move my hands to her head as I kiss her just once, long and slow.