Cocky: A Reverse Harem Romance

by Ashlee Price

  I look at him. Now that’s something I haven’t read.

  Come to think of it. I’ve never really read anything about his childhood.

  “Why show them to me?” I ask him.

  Kaleb shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe I feel like I took something away from you earlier so I’m trying to give something back.”

  I pull out a hardbound copy of Les Misérables. “And do you actually enjoy reading these?”

  He stands up. “Is that so hard to believe?”

  I flip through the pages. “Yes. After all, reading isn’t as thrilling as parasailing, bungee jumping or skydiving. Or were those stunt doubles too?”

  Kaleb grins. “Nope. I did all that. It doesn’t mean that’s all I like doing.”

  He leans on the shelf and turns his attention to the books. “And you’re wrong. Reading can be as thrilling, if not more.”

  As he stares at the books, I can see a change in his expression, something I’ve never seen before in any of his movies or all his TV appearances. It’s the wonder of a boy on Christmas morning and the peace of an old man sitting on his front porch and watching the sunset, knowing how far he’s come.

  It’s fascinating.

  And hot. The sight of his face is making me almost weak in the knees.

  Instead, it’s my hands that weaken, and the book between them falls. I hastily kneel down to pick it up and so does Kaleb, both of us reaching the book at the same time. As I lift my head, I look into his eyes, those ebony pools like a moonless night.

  Now, though, there seem to be stars in them.

  My heart stops and I swallow.

  It’s strange. Earlier, I slapped him for kissing me, but now, I want him to.

  Kaleb doesn’t, though. Instead, he just picks up the book and puts it back in place.

  “Sorry,” I mumble as I stand up.

  He shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

  “You really do have a fine collection,” I tell him. “Thank you for showing it to me.”

  He nods.

  I let out a deep breath. “I better go, but it was nice doing yoga with you… Kaleb.”

  It feels weird calling him by name, but nice.

  I offer him my hand and he takes it. “Same here, Dani.”

  I turn around and leave the room.

  “I’ll see you again soon?” he calls after me.

  I glance back. “Sure.”

  I grab my things and leave the apartment. This time, Jerry doesn’t stop me. As I walk to the elevator, I find myself smiling, and I run my fingers over my lips.

  I can’t believe Kaleb Wilson, the Kaleb Wilson, is my newest client. I can’t believe he kissed me. And I can’t believe I slapped him because of it. But most of all, I can’t believe he’s a wonderful guy.

  The papers don’t do him justice at all.

  Unless, of course, it was all just an act to win me over and get me into his bed—in which case he’s a better actor than everyone gives him credit for.

  Either way, I look forward to seeing more of him. Just the thought of it is enough to make my heart beat faster. A flurry of butterflies erupts in my chest, sending a warm breeze under my skin.

  The elevator doors open and I step inside, wrapping my arms around myself.

  So much has happened today already, and yet the day isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

  I still have dinner with Reed.

  Chapter Six

  Reilly

  The bistro I’ve chosen for my dinner with Dani is a Greek one with the inside painted blue and white just like the isle of Santorini. Even the rattan chairs have blue cushions, while the wooden tables are covered in pristine white linen. A small Grecian urn serves as the olive oil canister right next to the brass pepper mill in the middle of each. Torches resembling the ones used for the Olympics hang from the walls, and pendant lights that look like pearly marbles from the coffered ceiling.

  I opt for a table in the backyard, though, right at the very back next to the greenhouse containing all the bistro’s potted herbs. Here, the light comes from strings of illuminated shells woven like a web over the place, as well as a few well-placed lamps. It’s more romantic and more private, which last I appreciate more than anything.

  Indeed, most of the people are inside—a medium-sized crowd of people who are either too busy to cook, discussing business over pita bread, or enjoying a mid-week respite from work. Out here, only one other table is occupied, and it’s nearer the front. At first, I think its male and female occupants are a couple, but as they chatter, I begin to think they’re just friends. Maybe the man is even gay; he seems to be touchy and his gestures are exaggerated, plus he has a designer backpack.

  I leave them alone, pouring myself a glass of sparkling white wine that’s been shipped straight from the vineyards of Greece. The owner, Estevan, knows it’s my favorite and has a bottle ready for me each time I make a reservation.

  I glance at my clock—still five minutes early—then at my phone to make sure Dani hasn’t sent me a message to say something’s come up.

  Funny. I’ve never been worried about being stood up on a date before. Not that this is really a date.

  Or is it?

  Finally, Dani arrives in a long-sleeved, tea-length royal blue dress, her auburn locks freely cascading and bouncing over her shoulders. Pearl studs adorn her ears, but my attention is drawn down past her bare neck to the ruffled neckline that dips low enough to give a glimpse of the top of her cleavage. Her lips, painted ruby, curve into a smile as soon as she sees me.

  “Good evening,” she greets me as she reaches our table. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

  “No worries.” I pull out a chair for her.

  She sits down, puts her purse on the extra chair and looks around. The lights dance in her wide eyes.

  “This place is beautiful,” she says.

  I take my seat. “And so are you.”

  A slight blush tints her cheeks.

  “Plus, you blend right in.”

  She glances at her dress. “I know. My dress is the same color as the walls inside.”

  “Santorini blue,” I say. “So it’s a good thing we’re sitting out here. No one will mistake you for decor.”

  Dani grins.

  “Wine?” I pick up the bottle. “Or do yoga instructors not drink?”

  “We do.” She gives me her empty glass. “After all, we’re still human.”

  I pour the wine. “Though even gods drink. Greek gods, I mean.”

  Dani nods. “They did, didn’t they?”

  “A lot,” I agree. “How was your day? Any more accidents?”

  She purses her lips slightly, her eyes rolling up. “Let’s just say it’s been a very unexpected day.”

  Just then, the waiter approaches us with the menu.

  “I’ll have the moussaka,” I order without looking at it.

  “Sure.” The waiter jots it down.

  “What’s that?” Dani asks.

  “It’s basically layers of eggplant, spiced meat and potatoes,” I explain.

  “I see.” She taps her fingers on the table as she reads the menu. “Well, I’ll have the classic Greek salad and the baked shrimp.”

  “Excellent choice,” I tell her before turning to the waiter. “We’ll also have some of the pita bread with hummus. And loukoumades for dessert.”

  “Of course.” The waiter scribbles those down as well and then repeats them. “Anything else?”

  I glance at Dani who shakes her head.

  “That will be all.”

  The waiter nods, takes the menu from Dani and takes his leave.

  “So…” Dani reaches for her glass. “Are you one-eighth Greek or something?”

  I tap my own glass. “Wow. You guessed it.”

  “No way.”

  “Yes way. My grandmother was Greek, but she married an American.”

  My mother often says it’s my Greek blood that’s responsible for my good looks and my acting skills.


  “I see.” She takes a sip of the wine. “This is good.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” I take a sip as well.

  “Have you been to Greece, then?”

  “A few times,” I answer. “I like their beaches.”

  “Oh, I love beaches. I love doing yoga on a beach.”

  And I can imagine her doing the tree pose in her swimsuit, one foot firmly planted on the sand and the other on her thigh, her arms stretched above her head towards the blue sky, the sunset in the background.

  I can imagine pushing her down on the sand, gazing down into her brown eyes with her hair fanned out around her head while the salty breeze is blowing through mine. I can imagine taking that swimsuit off her…

  “Well?” Dani’s voice interrupts my reverie.

  I blink. “Sorry. What was that? For a moment there, I was just drifting back to the beach.”

  She sets down her glass. “I said I like the idea of doing yoga in a natural setting, actually, which is why my sister and I want to put up this wellness resort, you know, some kind of island where you can just pursue wellness and rejuvenate yourself…”

  “Wonderful idea. Is your sister a yoga instructor, too?”

  “No. She’s an acupuncturist. She does yoga, but she doesn’t teach it.”

  “Well, why don’t you?” I sit back. “I’m sure a lot of people would love it. I know I would.”

  “We’re still saving up,” she answers. “It takes a lot of money to buy an island, after all.”

  “Yeah.”

  She narrows her eyes at me. “Do you own an island?”

  “No.”

  But my mother wants one.

  “What’s the best beach you’ve ever been to?” Dani asks as she sits back, giving me an even better view of her cleavage.

  I try not to stare at it.

  “Oh, that’s a tough one.” I scratch my chin. “Every beach I’ve been to has been a beauty, but you should definitely see the ones in Greece, especially the ones on Crete and Ios.”

  I suddenly wish I could take her there.

  She nods. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  The waiter returns to serve the pita bread with the hummus.

  I sit up. “In the meantime, you can eat Greek food.”

  “Yeah.” She reaches for a piece of bread. “I’ve been told it’s one of the healthiest cuisines in the world.”

  “It is,” I agree. “So please, eat to your heart’s content.”

  ~

  “I think I ate a bit too much,” Dani says over an hour later as she rubs her tummy. “I shouldn’t have eaten that last loukoumades.”

  I chuckle. “Nonsense. You’ll burn it all off anyway.”

  “I hope so.” She dabs her lips with the table napkin.

  I smile at her.

  Dani creases her eyebrows. “What? Do I have something between my teeth or on my face?”

  I grin as I shake my head. “Nothing. I was just thinking how I really enjoyed your company.”

  She puts the napkin down. “Me too.”

  I’m not lying. Dani’s great. I’m glad I met her. I can’t seem to stop smiling or staring at her.

  “Sorry, but I have to use the restroom,” she says, standing up.

  “Sure.”

  She grabs her purse and walks off. I pick up my glass, my gaze following her until she’s out of sight. Only after that do my eyes wander around the restaurant, which has a bigger crowd now. Families. Couples. Men in suits…

  Shit.

  I sit up, almost choking on my wine as I recognize one of them.

  Pete, the manager of a friend of mine. If he sees me, he’ll bust my cover. And I’m not quite ready for Dani to find out who I am yet, not when this evening has been so perfect.

  Quickly, I leave the table, my head turned to the side as I walk past his in hopes of escaping his notice. I succeed.

  I head to the counter to pick up the bill. As I’m signing the receipt, Dani emerges from the bathroom. I grab her arm.

  “Let’s go somewhere else, shall we?” I ask her.

  “Oh.” She looks surprised. “Where?”

  I shrug, since I don’t know the answer. “How about just walking around? You know, to help our food go down?”

  Dani smiles as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, sure.”

  I offer her my arm and she takes it, allowing me to usher her out of the restaurant.

  For a block, we walk, continuing our conversation while savoring the evening breeze. Then I see another familiar face walking towards us.

  I frown. What is it with tonight and all these people I’m in danger of bumping into?

  Frantically, I look around. The dance studio across the street catches my attention.

  I practiced there a few times before, back when I was still doing theater. It seems like a good hiding place now.

  I pull Dani towards it, ignoring the puzzled look on her face. The receptionist recognizes me, but fortunately she understands the look on my face and doesn’t mention my name. She simply leads us to an empty studio.

  Once inside, I let out a sigh of relief.

  “Um, what are we doing here?” Dani asks.

  I turn to her, ready with the excuse I just made up. “Well, I thought we could dance a little to burn off those calories. And it’s much better dancing here than in a crowded bar with such loud music, right?”

  She walks around. “I guess. I didn’t take you for a dancer, though.”

  “Oh, I can dance a little.” I shrug off my jacket. “And something tells me you can, too.”

  She drops her purse to the floor. “Is that a challenge?”

  I turn on the music. “No. It’s an invitation.”

  I walk towards her, offering her my hand. “May I have this dance?”

  Dani smiles as she takes it.

  “Sure.” She places her hand on my shoulder. “I’m a little rusty, but I’m warning you, I am a bit good at this.”

  Liar.

  As Dani dances across the room, she seems more like she’s flying, gliding across the wooden floor without effort and with the utmost grace. Her feet, bare now that she’s discarded her two-inch heels, fall into place one step after another, hardly making a sound. Her hair sways across her shoulders. Her skirt drapes and billows around her legs as if it has a life of its own.

  She isn’t just a bit good.

  She is good, so good that I’ve given up trying to keep up with her.

  Now I’m just standing in a corner, transfixed.

  As for her, she doesn’t even seem aware that I’m still here. Her eyes are closed. Her body moves to the beat of the music as if every note were her own heartbeat.

  She’s lost in a world of her own, and I’m lost in her.

  As a sheen of sweat coats her skin, I can feel my own perspiration break out beneath my cotton shirt. As her chest heaves, my own breathing comes in gasps.

  The room is suddenly warm.

  And I feel warm. No, hot.

  The music goes on, and with each beat, with each move Dani makes, my heart pounds. Another part of me throbs.

  She whirls and the hem of her skirt lifts up so high that I catch a glimpse of black lace and I snap.

  A man can only take so much.

  With long strides, I walk over to her and grab her hips. I pull them towards mine so that her back is against my chest, and in front of one of the many mirrors, I grip her chin and kiss her.

  Chapter Seven

  Dani

  Reed is kissing me.

  My lungs are already short on air because of my dancing, and now that his lips are sealing mine, I can hardly breathe. My skin is already feverish to the touch, and yet fresh waves of heat ripple through my veins as his tongue finds mine. My heart goes faster, now dancing to a different beat.

  As if my body has a will of its own, following a routine it has long known, my lips part wider. My tongue pushes back against his. My hand clings to the side of his neck and I lean back. An e
scaping moan signals my surrender.

  Reed’s tongue delves even further inside my mouth, and I taste the glory that was Greece—the vibrant fruitiness of the wine, the sweetness of the cinnamon and honey that were in those bites of heaven, the spices from the hummus and the meat, the saltiness that reminds me of the sapphire ocean.

  His hand leaves my hip to make its ascent over my curves—first the soft curve of my belly and then that smaller mound, now swollen. He cups it with his palm and the flesh tingles. His thumb finds the stiff peak and I shiver. My black lace panties, already damp with sweat, grow wetter.

  His other hand travels down and up my thigh, past the hem of my skirt towards my underwear. I hold my breath in anticipation, and when those fingers brush against the damp lace, I let out a gasp into Reed’s mouth. My fingers go up to his hair and tug at the golden tendrils.

  His hand slips beneath the swooping neckline of my dress and my lace bra to squeeze my breast and I feel my strength scatter. I clutch his side as my knees wobble.

  His other hand strokes me through the lace and my body arches against his. The puddle there grows. The soles of my feet curl and my toes dig into the wooden floor.

  As his fingers work to make me unravel, my head spins. I tear my mouth away so that I can breathe. I suck the air in gasps.

  When I’ve caught my breath, I find myself staring at the glass across from me and my reflection in it.

  Reed is licking my ear now, one hand twisting my nipple and the other moving beneath my skirt.

  “Like what you see?” he asks as his aquamarine eyes meet mine in the mirror.

  I don’t answer. I don’t know what to say.

  I don’t even know what I’m seeing. Is that really me… with the flushed cheeks and glazed-over eyes?

  Reed lifts my skirt so I can see his hand just before it disappears beneath my panties. It’s almost surreal watching him stroke me, but at the same time I feel each brush of his fingertips more intensely.

  He touches me there and my eyes fall shut. I throw my head back against Reed’s shoulder as a cry escapes my lips. I rest my weight on him as my legs turn to mush.

  With his arm holding me up, his fingers strum that engorged nub. Then his fingers slip inside me and my eyes and my mouth fly open.