We settle in to enjoy the rest of lazy Saturday, and about thirty minutes into the movie Josette takes off her hoodie around the same time Justin tells Mila he wants to play tennis with her. Now my mind’s in the gutter as I try to distract myself from glancing at the thin tank top Josette’s wearing and wondering what she’d look like without it. The only thing making me better than Colt is I’m not voicing the question.
“Want a soda?” I ask, already walking into the kitchen. Bracing my palms on the edge of the counter, I bend and take a few deep breaths, so I don’t hear her join me.
“What’s wrong? You okay?” she asks, placing her hand on my back and trying to get a read on my face. Trying to shrug her off without coming off douchey, I open the fridge, putting the door between us.
“Just got dizzy for a second. I’m good,” I lie. “Soda?” I hold up a can, which she accepts.
“You sure?” she asks again, her voice laced with both concern and skepticism.
“Yeah. Positive.”
For the rest of the movie, I make sure to stay as far away from her as possible while I gather my thoughts. A slight crush on a friend is totally normal. I remember that much from before. But the things I’m thinking and feeling right now are far from friendly.
The credits start to roll, so I switch back to cable and flip the channel to watch something funny and not romantic at all. Impractical Jokers might be the least sexy show on television and, to be honest, I need the damn reprieve. Josette leans forward—cleavage on full display—to grab her soda, and I have to turn my head quickly to not go back to thinking about her without that fucking tank top. Then, of course, since the gods are all against me, the woman drops her can and it spills all over her and the sofa.
“Shit, I’m sorry, Cutter,” she says as she runs into the kitchen for a towel.
“Don’t worry about it.” Okay. This is good. She’s soaking wet with sticky pop. She’s going to want to go home and get fresh clothes. I’ll be able to digest all of this shit in my head and figure out what the hell to do with it. Maybe the gods favor me more than I thought.
“You got clean towels in the closet?” she asks, and I do a double take.
“Yes?”
“Okay, I’ll be right back. Can I steal a T-shirt or something?”
“Sure.” Looking to the ceiling after the bathroom door closes and the shower starts, I shake my head. “You like to torture people, don’t you?”
Pacing the living room, I try to figure a way out of this mess. We’ve only hung out twice and she’s mentioned to me at least three times she’s happy to have a good guy friend. That most guys just want to get in her pants. I can see why. She’s fucking gorgeous. And perfect. And so damn tiny you could just pick her up and do all kinds of awesome things. And her tits are just right there and so tempting. And her ass is more than a generous handful.
“And knock it off. She’s. Your. Friend,” I whisper to myself, but it doesn’t do much to detour my thoughts.
The water in the shower turns off and I can hear her wet feet padding on the tile floor. Naked feet. Naked body. Wrapped in a towel, probably. She opens the door and steps out exactly how I imagined her.
“Shirt?” she asks, holding out her hand.
“Sorry. I forgot.” I grab the only other clean T-shirt in the closet and hand it to her while standing a few feet back.
“Thanks,” she responds sweetly, and steps back into the bathroom. The only thing I can do now is pray her sweatpants weren’t damaged in the soda incident. I take my seat on the sofa and keep my eyes fixed on the TV when the bathroom door opens. She places the towel she dried her perfect, naked body with on the wet couch cushion and sits on the cushion right next to me. When her bare legs come into view, I swallow hard and try not to think about it, but she notices my discomfort.
“I’m wearing underwear, you can breathe,” she jokes.
“It’s cool,” I say stiffly.
“Cutter, look at me.” I turn my head and train my eyes on hers, begging them not to drift lower. “I can put my pants on, if you’d like. They’re a little wet, but I will if you want me to.”
Well, if that’s not a loaded question. If I say yes, I’m an asshole who would rather her sit in soiled clothes than let them dry. If I say no, I’m the typical dude that would never in his right mind ask a girl to put clothes on when they’re already off; half the battle is won.
“I don’t know how to answer that,” I respond honestly. With Josette, truth seems like the best option. I’d like to think that even though we’ve only known each other a short time, she knows I’m not the typical guy who just wants to screw her because she’s hot. Don’t get me wrong, I’d have sex with her, but I also really do like her and wouldn’t want to ruin it because I’m hiding a hard-on underneath a throw pillow.
“Answer with the first thing that comes to mind. Do you want me to put my pants back on?”
“If you don’t, I’ll probably do something stupid,” I blurt. I have to look away; she can see right through me.
“What if it’s not stupid?” she asks, catching me off guard.
“How is it not stupid? You’re my only friend here other than Garrett. I do something stupid, we’re not friends anymore. I don’t want that. I really do like you, Jo. I don’t wanna screw anything up.”
“Cutter.” She demands my attention. Her hypnotizing blue eyes pull me in and I know I’m a goner. This isn’t a crush. I want her. I want her bad, and not just for a night. She says, “It’s not stupid. You think you’re the only one over there freaking out? I just hide it better than you.”
I lean toward her, putting my hand on her outer thigh, the silkiness of her skin scorching my palm, and her breath hitches. Some sort of weird man pride surges through my veins and I run my hand a little higher until I reach the hem of the shirt.
“I’ve never been a fan of tennis, but I hear you’re good at zombies,” I say, hoping she’ll get the reference to the movie we just watched.
“I like zombies,” she says on a breath, tilting her head to the side and licking her red-stained lips. “I bet I’ll win again.” Her husky voice is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. Josette’s hand skims down my stomach and comes to a stop at the waistband of my sweatpants, her fingers running light circles on the sensitive skin below.
“Jo,” I say hoarsely, and take the plunge. Leaning farther, I put my lips on hers and as soon as that innocent contact is made, everything starts to pass in a blur. Greedy hands grope and roam, desperate mouths seek, sexy moans are swallowed between our lips. It’s fucking heaven.
Unable to resist her beautiful body, I pull my shirt over her head, tossing it on the floor next to us. When I rake my eyes up her body, naked except for her underwear, she licks her lips in anticipation. I’m done for. I can’t stand another second without my mouth back on hers. I fist one hand in Josette’s hair and the other finds itself on her generous, more-than-a-handful breast, kneading and massaging the soft flesh, my thumb and forefinger making their way to her nipple and rolling the peak between them. Swallowing her moan, I lay her back on the sofa, finding my perfect spot between her spread legs, the heat from her core grinding against my crotch.
Suddenly, all the chaos stops and both of our heads whip toward the door when someone knocks. Leaping off the couch, Josette barrels toward the door as she puts my shirt back on, exclaiming she’ll answer it. I bury my face in my hands and try to scrub away the tension and the panic that I’ve already ruined things. She couldn’t get off the couch fast enough. Did I come on too strong? Shit.
“What’s going on, guys?” Garrett asks skeptically, stepping into the living room. Great. Fucking great.
Chapter 5
Cutter
“Oh, hi, Mr. Rhodes. I was just…uhhhh…excuse me,” Josette stammers, and then charges through the living room to the bathroom, no doubt to clothe herself.
“Cutter,” Garrett growls, “I just hired her. Is it too much to ask that you don’t screw your co
workers?” he says heatedly in an undertone.
“I didn’t screw her,” I answer, adjusting my pants.
“Answer me this. If I hadn’t come up here, would you have?”
“Yes.” I lower my head to avoid his stare.
Josette reemerges from the bathroom wearing her still-wet sweatpants and my shirt. Grabbing her bag off the floor, she avoids Garrett’s eyes and mutters a goodbye as she flees the apartment.
“You need a workout,” Garrett says to me, his lips splitting into a slight grin. “Looks like you have some energy to burn off. Could do you some good, you know? Blue balls are an excellent motivator.”
Huffing, I slip into my sneakers and follow Garrett down to the gym, surely to endure the workout to end all workouts.
—
“Do you think I can borrow your truck or Rian’s car for a little bit?” I ask Garrett after a five-mile run and an hour sparring match in the cage.
“I don’t care. You going to see Josette?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s really not a good idea to date a coworker, Cutter. I’m not your dad, so I’m not going to tell you how to live your life, and there’s never been a rule about it here—hell, I married Rian and she was a fighter and I was partial owner—but it can get messy.”
“I get it, but it’s not like that with Josette. We’re not dating and I don’t think that’s in the cards for us.”
“What? Are you guys like fuck buddies or something?”
“I guess you could call it that,” I answer while pulling my shirt over my head and slipping back into my sneakers. “She’s busy with school and work, I’ve got my job here, and now the fight coming up. Neither one of us wants a relationship, but people have needs.”
“If you wanna stay friends with her, I’d highly suggest not jumping into bed. Sex complicates things, makes them messy. At first it’s all fun and games, then the next thing you know, you’re just getting out of the army, promising to marry the girl you’d been screwing because it seems like the right thing to do, and the love of your life walks back into your world guns blazing.”
“I’m not following.”
“Another story for another day, but what I’m saying is people get hurt. They catch feelings they didn’t anticipate, and because sex is so intimate, especially between friends, someone always walks away with a broken heart. You’ve dealt with a lot in such a short time, kid, I’d hate for you to get all miserable.”
“Awww, Garrett. Are you turning into a chick on me? Is this where we have a pillow fight or paint each other’s nails?” I joke, trying to break the awkwardness of the situation. My own father died when I was only a little kid, and Jake wasn’t much other than a drunk. I never got the talk—no birds and bees—or any advice on how to interact with the opposite sex. Hearing Garrett’s obvious concern for me drills down the point that my real family is here now, and it feels nice.
“No, kid. I just know you’re about to make me a shit ton of money if you can think with the right head.”
“I promise I won’t get hurt or do any hurting. We’re just having fun. The second either of us feel uncomfortable with anything, we’ll stop it. Hell, I’ve got to make myself a lot of money so I can get a place away from your prying eyes.”
“Cutter. I’m always around. I’m always there,” he teases, and tosses me the keys to his truck. “I’ll have Rian come get me. Go talk to your girl. And tell her I thought she’d be more of a thong kind of girl, not so much those little short things. Nice touch.” I’m about to stomp across the room until I remember Josette was only wearing a T-shirt when she answered the door.
—
I make it to Josette’s house off of sheer memory. Granted, I had to drive to the bar, then the way we took to her place, but I get there in one piece and am out of the truck before the engine stops churning. I stand on the stoop for a second, unsure of what I’ll say when she opens the door, knowing only that I need to see her, touch her, feel her. Raising my fist, I knock a couple times and take a step back.
“Can I help you?” her roommate Nichelle asks.
“I’m looking for Josette.” I have to bite the inside of my cheek. It’s true. All I can see is Nichelle swinging from the chandelier while getting railed by some farm animal.
“And you are?” There’s attitude in her voice. Not sure if she’s looking out for her friend or ready to shoot me where I stand, so I take another step back.
“Cutter. I met you the other night? Remember? James and Randy’s friend? From the bar?”
“Oh, shit, I remember you. Come on in.” Women. Complete 180 in two-point-three seconds. Gotta love it. “I’ll go grab Joey.”
By “grab Joey,” she really means I’ll scream at the top of my lungs for her to come out of her room and join us in the living room. A few seconds later, Josette’s door cracks and she’s as feisty as ever.
“Niche, seriously? I’ve loaned you my Trig book, given you a notebook, found your rolling papers, and dug through my purse for a lighter. What more could you want? Me to do your homework and smoke your joint for you, too? I mean, Christ, what the hell is it?”
I clear my throat and Josette turns in my direction.
“I was just letting you know you had company,” Nichelle says, “but you know, baby girl, you’re always allowed to share a joint with me. I’d prefer it, actually. You might, too, take some of the edge off. Careful with this one, Cutter—high-strung is an understatement.” Nichelle giggles as she walks back to her room, closing the door.
“What’s up, Cutter?” Josette asks, motioning for me to take a seat as she does the same.
“I just wanted to talk about earlier. I don’t want it to get weird. I know you were uncomfortable when Garrett showed up, but you didn’t have to leave.”
“For real? He’s my boss and I was in underwear. Underwear!”
“I’m sorry. He and Rian have a habit of showing up out of the blue. I’m usually alone, and they like to make sure I have company.”
Her eyes soften, as does her posture. “I like that they take care of you. I bet they really love you.”
“Probably. So, what are you doing that’s got you so strung out?”
“Homework. I’ve only got three semesters of classes until I graduate, then on to grad school. I’ve got finals coming up and if I don’t get at least a ninety-five percent on every test, I can kiss goodbye to my chances of being accepted to U.K. for the master’s program.”
“Accounting, right?”
“Yes, sir. I know, seems super boring, but numbers, they work for me. There’s only ever going to be one right answer. There’s no guessing, no two ways to do it….You see the problem, do every step, and always, always arrive at the right answer. It’s absolute perfection.” The way she talks about her passion has me feeling rather passionate myself. Who would have thought that talk of numbers could turn me on?
“Do you need a stress-relief break? I’m sure I can think of something to take your mind off finals, at least for a few hours.”
“Oh, really, Mr. Greer. You think you can come all the way over here, distract me with your charm, and lure me with promises of no stress? You make a convincing argument. I may have to take you up on this.” Josette’s voice drops to a sultry tone and her eyes blaze with want.
“Lead the way, Ms. Morelli.”
Without hesitation, she stands and walks down the hallway to her bedroom with me quick on her heels. Before she enters the room, she turns back to me and places a hand on my chest. “Friends, right? Nothing else?”
“Scout’s honor.” I put up my fingers to signify the Boy Scouts’ code of honor, even though I was never a Boy Scout. “The second things get too much for either of us, we’re done.”
“Don’t go falling in love with me now, Cutter.”
“You’ve got my word. Now, get in there.” I playfully push Josette over the threshold, walk through myself, and kick the door closed behind me. Grabbing the hem of my shirt that she’s still weari
ng, I rip it over her head and put my lips on her neck. “Where were we?”
Chapter 6
Cutter
As I push Josette back toward her bed, she fumbles with the drawstring on my sweatpants. When the backs of her knees hit the mattress, she casually sits on the corner, effectively breaking our kiss. Just when I think she’s going to go at untangling the string holding my pants up, she turns around and begins gathering and organizing the books and papers spread out across the blanket.
“That can’t wait?” I joke, pulling off my own shirt.
“I’ve been working on this damn project all semester and if I lose track of one single thing, it all goes to shit. Calm down for a second, Rocky,” she teases right back.
Instead of pushing the issue, I look around her room, noticing sticky notes with quotes from various people scattered on the walls.
“What you do today can improve all your tomorrows.” —Ralph Marston
“If you dream it, you can do it.” —Walt Disney
“The secret of getting ahead is getting started.” —Mark Twain
And those are just the ones on the mirror attached to her dresser, although at further glance, I can see all of them have a common theme: inspiration.
“I’m almost done, I swear. God, this has to be the least sexy thing in the world,” she gripes as she dog-ears pages in a book, then uses a stack of papers as bookmarks in another and gathers a half dozen pens, markers, and highlighters.
Taking a seat in the armchair near the window, I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Actually, it’s quite sexy. There’s nothing hotter than a woman with dreams, aspirations, and ambition. You’re kinda turning me on right now, Jo.”
“Hell, if I’d known that homework was like Viagra for you, I’d have invited you over sooner.”
“It’s not the homework, babe. It’s how all these quotes around your room show me who you really are, what you want out of life. It’s watching your tits sway when you move from one place to the next. And, fuck me, it’s how gorgeous your ass looks in those tight little pants, which I’m fairly sure you’re not wearing anything underneath.”
Cutter: A Fight or Flight Novel Page 4