Sex God

by Katie McCoy

  I didn’t hear him at first because I was momentarily distracted by the incredibly sexy sight of my incredibly sexy boyfriend making dinner.

  “A guest?” I asked when I had regained my senses.

  “Luke is in town,” he reminded me.

  “And he brought wine,” Luke announced, coming into the kitchen, holding up a bottle of wine. The good stuff.

  “Haven’t you heard of knocking?” I asked, giving him a hug.

  He had been taking small, local trips for work, but hadn’t yet booked another overseas project. I was starting to get the sense that he wasn’t interested in traveling as much anymore, and might even be thinking of settling down. The thought thrilled me, as I loved having Luke around. As long as he didn’t show up unexpectedly.

  “I have a key,” Luke held it up.

  “About that,” Austin came over and snagged it from him.

  “Hey!” Luke argued. “That’s not fair.”

  “It’s for your own benefit,” Austin told him. “I’m pretty sure none of us want a repeat of what happened after my concert where someone stormed in without knocking.”

  Both Luke and I shuddered at the memory.

  “True,” Luke said. “I definitely don’t want to experience that again. Gross.”

  I socked him in the arm.

  “What?” He rubbed at the spot. “I’m pretty sure you have no interest in walking in on me with any of your best friends.”

  “Ugh, no!” I told him. “You stay away from my best friends.”

  But he just grinned at me.

  “I’ll stay away from them,” he said. “But I can’t promise they’ll stay away from me.”

  I pretended to gag.

  “OK,” Austin put his arms around both of us. “We get it, you both think each other’s love lives are disgusting. Now, can we eat?”

  We all sat down at the table together, with Austin piling spaghetti and meatballs onto our plates. The food was delicious, the company amazing. Every few minutes, I would catch Austin’s gaze across the meal, and he give me that smile—the one that was just for me—all while holding my hand underneath the table.

  Yeah. Life was pretty damn perfect.

  THE END

  Thanks so much for reading! If you’d like a sneak peek of my new book, RASCALS, keep scrolling. It’s a hot series about five guys, one bar, and a whole heap of trouble.

  RASCAL is available to order now!

  The Rascals Series: Coming in 2018…

  Five guys. One bar.

  And a whole heap of sexy trouble…

  He’s keeping me up all night long…

  Emerson Hayes is sexy, arrogant, and has abs that would put a Hemsworth to shame. He’s also opening a bar with his buddies right below my apartment. Goodbye, peace and quiet, hello sleepless nights fantasizing about my hot new landlord…

  But when my stuffy workplace makes it clear I need a plus-one for our events, I have the perfect way to even the score. Emerson is A+ arm-candy… as long as I can resist taking a bite. Our arrangement is supposed to be just for show, but Emerson is like that fifth shot of tequila: tempting, intoxicating, and liable to leave me flat on my back with my panties around my ankles, begging for more.

  Maybe I should stay for just one more round…

  Click here to order Book 1: Rascal

  Chapter One

  There aren’t many things in this world worse than getting your period. Unless, of course, it’s 9:00pm on a heavy flow day and you’ve run out of tampons. And chocolate.

  The silver lining to that particular tragedy, however, was the twenty-four-hour drug store around the corner from my new apartment. Which is why I was there, loading up my bag with all the necessary “time of the month” essentials: pads, tampons, Chunky Monkey ice cream by the pint and tons of other snack foods that were terrible for me and my waistline. I was grabbing Advil from the medicine aisle when my phone rang.

  “We’re going out,” Kelsey said as a greeting.

  I put my basket down, and rolled my eyes, even though my best friend was unable to see either gesture. From the heavy bass I could hear in the background, and the way she had practically shouted into the phone, I could tell that Kelsey was already out. Then again, her PR job all but demanded she spend her weeknights partying with fashion people. My job, on the other hand, had very different demands. Though I wouldn’t switch with her for all the open bars in Chicago.

  “No can do,” I told her. “I’ve got a stack of case files waiting for me at home.”

  As a lowly associate, my job meant long hours at the office and then even longer hours at home, catching up with work and trying everything I could to get ahead. The law firm I worked for was one of the best in Chicago and I intended to do everything in my power to make my mark there.

  I knew Kelsey was sympathetic to my plight, but that didn’t mean she was going to stop pressuring me to join her out on the town. Especially since I knew she hated going out by herself.

  “Come on! You need to lighten up!” she shouted to be heard above the music. “It’s Friday night!”

  I winced and held my phone away from my ear. She was right. It was Friday night and most twenty-five year old single women in Chicago would kill for an invitation like this. No doubt Kelsey was out at one of the hottest clubs in town, surrounded by gorgeous men. Of course, since she worked in fashion, most of them were probably gay, but eye candy was eye candy.

  Unfortunately, my schedule did not allow for ogling handsome men tonight – gay or not.

  “I have to work,” I said.

  “You’ve been so boring ever since you landed this job,” she told me.

  “You mean since I landed my dream job?” I reminded her, even though I knew she understood. Kelsey might look like a party girl, but she was a party girl with ambition. That’s why we were friends. She had big dreams too.

  “Yeah, yeah,” she said with a laugh. “Your dream job is seriously cramping our dream social life.” Her light tone made it clear that she was teasing.

  “Right now, my dream social life involves a bath and a bottle of wine,” I countered.

  “Like I said,” Kelsey argued. “Boring.”

  “Depends on the bottle of wine,” I told her.

  “Just remind me how much longer I’m going to be without my wing woman,” Kelsey inquired over the sound of the club. “When does this silly competition end?”

  “It’s not silly,” I said. “Three people vying for one position is the complete opposite of silly.”

  “They should just make you all fight it out to the death,” Kelsey suggested. “Might be more fun.”

  “More fun for you,” I laughed. “Though, I bet Bryce and Lucinda would be down for hand-to-hand combat.”

  Bryce and Lucinda were the two other junior associates at the firm. And all three of us knew that only one of us would be asked to stay. We all wanted that slot. We all wanted it bad. Maybe a Hunger Games style death match wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. I might have been slighter than frat boy Bryce, and less graceful than elegant, posh Lucinda, but I was scrappy. And scrappy usually won battles like that. Because they had to. Because there wasn’t an option for failure.

  “Come on,” Kelsey begged. “Just come out for an hour. Or two. Three, tops.”

  “I can’t,” I told her. “Besides, even if I didn’t have work, Auntie Flo just came to town.”

  “Your aunt is in town? Why didn’t you tell me?” Kelsey demanded.

  “You’re having a blonde moment,” I teased her, even though we were both blonde. Even though I was a natural blonde and she was bottle blonde all the way, we both knew what it was like to have people assume that we were dumb because of our hair color. So I did my best to call Kelsey on moments where she fell into dumb blonde territory.

  “You know I don’t have an Auntie named Flo because Auntie Flo means…” I gave her a moment to catch up.

  “Oh right!” she laughed. “Well, fine. That’s a legitimate excuse to
stay in. Next time, though, you and me are going out.”

  “Good night, Kelsey,” I told her.

  “Good night, Alex,” she mimicked playfully and hung up.

  I smiled, and picked up my basket of precious supplies and headed to the beauty supply aisle to grab a bag of bath salts. My new studio might have been lacking things like space or windows, but it did have a bath tub. And my case files could wait a half hour or so while I tried to soak my cramps away.

  But thoughts of cramps and baths and literally everything else flew out of my head as a guy walked into the store. A hot guy. A really, really hot guy. A forget-your-cramps kind of hot guy. He was tall and gorgeous, with dark brown hair that fell boyishly across his forehead. He was wearing a plaid shirt that fit him perfectly, emphasizing a narrow waist and a broad chest, and a pair of well-worn jeans that clung to his thighs. He walked past, and I quickly averted my eyes, knowing that I had been full on staring. Gawking. But I couldn’t resist taking a peek at him as he walked away. Damn. The back of him was just as hot as the front, with those faded jeans cupping a perfect ass.

  I was suddenly reminded exactly how long it had been since I had touched a guy’s butt, or a guy had touched mine. It had been a long, long time. No wonder I was staring at strangers in the drug store. I grabbed some more chocolate – a poor substitute for what I was now craving – and went to check out.

  The line was long, so I entertained myself by checking email and scanning the headlines of the various tabloid magazines that lined the checkout line. All of them were talking about the recent engagement of a rock star to his childhood sweetheart. I might have considered it cute, if I believed that any of those stories had any truth to them.

  I had been a romantic once. But then I turned four and my dad walked out on my mom and me. Left us to start a new family with someone else. I found it hard to believe in true love after experiencing that.

  But that didn’t mean I wasn’t open to romance. Or sex. I was definitely open to sex. Unfortunately, my current life-work balance was leaning heavily on the side of work. Getting this job was the most important thing to me right now, and I wasn’t going to let anything get in the way.

  Someone bumped into me from behind.

  “Sorry about that,” a low voice said.

  Before I could turn around, I knew who was standing there. The hot guy. Because, of course he was. And of course, he had a sexy voice. One that made my entire body tingle.

  I glanced back to confirm what I already knew. Yep. Hot guy was standing there, looking delicious in plaid, his basket full of extremely masculine things like beer and peanuts. Was that beef jerky as well? He couldn’t have been more manly if he tried.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I told him.

  He smiled and I was nearly blinded by a row of perfectly straight, white teeth. He had a dimple in his left cheek. Heat rushed downward, pooling between my legs. It had been a really, really long time since a guy had smiled at me like that.

  Calm down, Alex, I told myself. He’s just some guy. Yes, he’s drop dead gorgeous, but is he any cuter than the rock star that just got engaged to his childhood sweetheart? No. Ok, maybe a little bit, yes. It had something to do with the plaid. How it made him look all touchable and cozy. But in a sexy way. In the sexiest way.

  “You’re up,” he said.

  I didn’t understand until he looked past me, and I realized that the line was gone and the cashier was waiting for me.

  Feeling a little foolish, I hurried to the counter, putting my basket down.

  Hot guy followed me, and even though I now had my back to him, I could totally sense his presence. His sexy, manly presence.

  The cashier was a bored looking teen, who started scanning my items and tossing them haphazardly into a bag. I was painfully aware of hot guy standing behind me, especially as the cashier got closer to the bottom of my basket where the most embarrassing items were. I said a quick prayer that the pads and tampons would get rung up as quickly as the other items – too fast for anyone to really notice – but luck was not on my side that evening.

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  The cashier scanned the huge bag of pads over and over again, getting a harsh beep each time. Grabbing the intercom, he punched a few buttons and his voice came in loud and clear over the store speakers.

  “Price check,” he said. “Price check on ultra-heavy flow pads.”

  I wanted to die.

  No doubt my face was tomato red, but I pulled the collar of my light jacket up in what was likely a failed effort to hide it.

  “Ultra-heavy flow pads,” the cashier said again, while trying to scan the next item.

  Of course, it didn’t go through either.

  “And a price check on super absorbent tampons with applicator. Super absorbent,” he repeated, just in case the entire state of Illinois hadn’t heard him. If a sink hole had opened up right there in front of me, I would have gladly disappeared into it.

  Finally, the cashier got the correct prices on my ultra-heavy and super absorbent items. Of course, when he finally rung everything up, my card refused to work. All I got were those same obnoxious beeps every time I tried.

  “Come on!” a woman said from behind me, clearly annoyed at the delay.

  Grabbing my purse, I pulled out the last two twenties I had, and practically threw them at the cashier. He took his sweet time giving me change, as I hugged my bag to my chest. The minute the receipt was in my hand, I rushed out of the store, keeping my head down. I couldn’t risk a look back at the hot guy, because the last thing I wanted was for him to remember the face of the girl who was buying stuff for her period in front of him. Not exactly the way I wanted to be remembered by anyone, actually. Heavy flow and super absorbent indeed.

  I wanted to head straight for home, but now I needed to restock on cash. Never be without a twenty, if you can, my mother had always taught me. And though it was easier to access that money now, I still remembered a time when the twenty my mom had in her purse was the only thing that kept us from starving between her paychecks.

  Shifting my bag to my hip, I used my debit card to get into the little vestibule just outside my bank, which was currently closed. I was punching in my pin and thinking about the bath in my near future when I heard someone else enter the vestibule with me.

  “I swear I’m not following you,” the voice said.

  Heat licked up my spine at the sound, though my stomach dropped to my feet. I turned around to find the hot guy from the drug store standing in the tiny room with me. He flashed me a smile and then, without warning, all the lights went out.

  Chapter Two

  “I think we’re trapped,” hot guy said, giving the door a tug.

  I could see his profile in the pale light from the outside streetlamp, but for the most part we were in the dark.

  “We should call someone,” I put my bag down and picked up the phone.

  Anything to distract myself from the reality of the situation. Because the reality of the situation was that I was trapped in a tiny, dark box with the hottest guy I’d ever seen. A guy who had just seen exactly the kind of lady I was. The kind who needed ultra-heavy and super absorbent lady products.

  This time I was grateful for the dark because it hid the blush that was creeping back up my cheeks as embarrassment flooded back over me.

  This would not do.

  Using my phone as a light, I found a number on the ATM to call. When I was connected with someone, the woman on the other end was sympathetic, but told me that I needed to call the power company.

  “But the streetlights are still on,” I told her. “I think it’s just the bank that’s experiencing the power outage.”

  “Sorry,” she told me. “You can try calling the city.”

  I hung up, feeling frustrated, but hot guy had already pulled out his phone and was dialing.

  “I’ve got this,” he said, as if he was calling in a personal favor to the mayor.

  I didn’t say anything.
I was tired and my feet hurt and the rest of my body was bemoaning the lack of a bath at that exact moment. So instead, I leaned up against the wall of the ATM and watched hot guy speak to someone about our situation.

  “I totally understand,” he said, his voice smooth and calm. “But we are trapped in an ATM. It’s late, and my girlfriend is a bit claustrophobic, so I’m sure you can understand how stressful this might be for her.”

  I raised an eyebrow at that. Girlfriend?

  “Thank you,” he finally said and hung up.

  “Claustrophobic?” I asked, crossing my arms.

  I couldn’t tell, but I thought I saw a sheepish look cross his handsome face.

  “It worked,” he told me. “They’re sending someone over now.” He paused. “Though it still might take them a while to get here.”

  I slumped back, longing for my pajamas and the ice cream that was melting in my shopping bag. Hot guy sat on the ground, his long legs stretched out in front of him, and I watched enviously, wishing that I could do the same. Unfortunately, I wasn’t wearing a pair of beat up jeans like he was. I was wearing a crisp light gray suit with a tight pencil skirt, silk blouse and heels. Perfectly acceptable for the work place but terribly inconvenient – and utterly uncomfortable – at that exact moment.

  Still, hot guy patted the ground next to him.

  “Might as well settle in,” he said.

  “I would,” I told him, before gesturing at my outfit. “But I’m not sure that this suit and that ground are a good match.”

  “It is a nice suit,” he observed, and I got all warm.

  Because his observation was slow, his eyes dragging from the tips of my toes all the way to the top of my head, taking his time to examine every inch of my body. It felt like years went by before his gaze returned to my eyes. And when they did, there was a heat in his own eyes. One that made me even warmer.

  “Here,” he said, pulling his gaze away from mine.

  I watched as he dumped his purchases out onto the ground. Unlike me, he had apparently brought his own bag to the store – a nice canvas one that was big enough for me to sit on. Not that it was easing navigating myself into a sitting position in that skirt. I settled onto the ground next to him not entirely sure I hadn’t flashed him a good glimpse of my panties. If I had, he was at least gentleman enough not to say anything.