Licked (L.A. Liaisons Book 1)

by Brooke Blaine

  Cameron groaned and rubbed his forehead. “I’m so sorry about this.”

  I tried not to focus on the fact that our first kiss had been interrupted by a vomiting villainess. I supposed the bright side was that she didn’t get sick on us, which would’ve taken the night to a whole different level.

  Shrugging, I said, “It’s not your fault. But are you sure you don’t want to go with her? I mean, she does look pretty tempting.”

  “Hah, extremely. Too bad she’s married.”

  My eyes went wide. “What?”

  “Oh yeah. To the same guy she cheated on me with that knocked her up her first year of college.” He looked me over, a curious expression on his face. “Didn’t you stay in touch with anyone from here?”

  Looking away, I struggled not to fidget under his gaze. How could I explain my lack of friends without sounding like a total loser? “Not really. A couple of girls, but they live on the East Coast now. I just…moved on.”

  “Moved on,” he murmured, glancing back at Lauren, who was still heaving onto a poor succulent. “That’s a good thing. You’re better than this place.”

  I had no response for that. Not a “thank you,” not a “but you don’t know me,” not a “damn right I am, thanks for noticing.” Nada. It was all I could do to keep my jaw from dropping to the dirt.

  The door to the gym pushed open, the muted sound of the music blasting like earplugs being yanked out.

  “Lauren?” a high-pitched voice called out. One of the glam squad members searching for their queen. As the lithe figure stepped out onto the sidewalk, she called out her friend’s name again but then stopped when she saw us. Her eyes narrowed as she looked me up and down before turning up her nose and focusing her attention on Cameron.

  “The party’s inside, you know,” she told him.

  “I know.”

  “Doesn’t look like it.”

  “If you’re looking for your friend”—he moved aside, revealing Lauren in the bushes just as she coughed—“maybe you could take her home?”

  “Oh shit—Lauren?” Running over on wobbly heels, she reached for her friend’s hair and held it off her face with one hand while pulling out her phone to text in the other. “Why didn’t someone come get me? Why is she puking in the bushes and not in the bathroom? Where are your fucking manners, Mathis?”

  She continued to babble as the rest of the squad began to file outside, her text obviously having sent a message to the masses. They flocked around Lauren in a protective circle while sending death glares our way.

  Cameron sighed, loosening his tie as he moved toward me. “So.”

  “So.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Wanna get out of here?”

  I’D FOLLOWED CAMERON back to his place, which turned out to be a half-hour drive, traffic notwithstanding, from my apartment. How the holy hell did Cameron Mathis live within breathing distance (okay, slight exaggeration), and I didn’t know it? I should’ve been able to feel him on some intrinsic level, surely.

  Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. Get a grip, Ryleigh. But I planned on getting a very good grip soon, spank you very much.

  But first I needed some liquid courage. And wouldn’t you know it, there just so happened to be a bar a couple blocks down from his place.

  He held my hand as we walked to The Tavern. Sat across from me at a high-top table and actually paid attention to what I said for the who knows how many hours we sat there. He laughed at my jokes. Paid for our drinks and left a generous tip. Stood up when I went to the restroom—and never ever checked out another girl or even his cell phone.

  That’s it. We’re getting married. No ifs, ands, or buts. The guy was perfect.

  When we were ready to leave, he took my hand to help me down from the chair, and I caught his gaze drifting over my bare thighs, where my skirt had risen up to an indecent level. I let him continue looking before slowly smoothing it down. His eyes came up to mine, full of devilry, and he laced our fingers before walking us back to his place.

  Cameron’s house was nothing like what I expected. For a guy in his late twenties, he seemed to have his shit together. A rarity in L.A., where everyone pretended they were in their early twenties while pushing forty and still had the four roommates and movie-poster walls to prove it.

  But Cameron had…green plants…like, living ones. And leather couches, a stainless steel kitchen, gorgeous lighting fixtures, and a… What the hell?

  I crouched down next to the coffee table and touched my finger to the side of the glass as a blue fish swam up to meet it. “You have an aquarium for a coffee table,” I said, shaking my head. Okay, so this must be the “bachelor” part of his pad. Even if Cameron hadn’t been a six-foot-four Adonis, I’d bet this one talking piece alone would have women handing over their panties.

  “You like it?” I heard Cameron ask from the kitchen.

  I smiled as I ran my finger back and forth across the glass before going over to grab the much-needed bottle of water he offered. I took a long swallow before nodding.

  “I do. It’s absolutely—” As I turned my head to glance back at the aquarium table, my eyes caught sight of the enormous California king bed in the center of the room to my right, and I whispered, “Massive.”

  I couldn’t seem to tear my gaze away as Cameron rounded the bar and came to stand in front of me. He set my water down and backed me against the counter.

  If it was possible for hearts to beat so hard they flew out of your chest, mine would’ve. I felt the urge to pinch myself again, but Cameron’s arms were on either side of my body, and I didn’t dare move.

  “I’m glad you decided to come,” he said, his voice low and husky.

  I was more than happy to come whenever he wanted. But… Oh shit. This was really happening. In minutes I would be on that bed…with Cameron…the insanely sexy man with his hands now on my—

  “Um, do you mind if I have a minute?” I asked, pushing him back a little so I could look up at him. “Restroom?”

  “I do mind,” he said with a wink before nodding at an open door inside his bedroom. “It’s right through there.”

  My fingers ran down his arms to where his hands rested below my hips, and I gave a gentle squeeze. “Won’t be long.”

  Before I shut the bathroom door behind me, I looked back to see Cameron follow me into the room and take a seat on the edge of the bed, his hands splayed out on either side of him, and his eyes hungrily tracking me.

  And that look had me reaching for my phone and dialing one of the numbers on my short list of favorites. When Paige’s voice came over the line, with what sounded like a party on full blast in the background, I said, “I need your help.”

  “Help? Hang on, let me go outside.” The music faded and then she asked, “Where are you? Does Quinn need to come get you—”

  “No,” I whispered, moving to the far end of the bathroom and sitting on the edge of the tub. Damn, he has a tub and a shower. Maybe I needed to think about relocating. “I’m at Cameron Mathis’s house.”

  “What?” she shrieked, and I could picture her eyes huge and gaping at me. “What the hell do you need help for, then? Go get him.”

  “I’m in his bathroom.”

  “Are you sick?”

  “No.”

  “Are you showering together?”

  “No.”

  “Then hang up the phone, Ryleigh, and get the fuck out of the bathroom.”

  See? When she put it like that, it sounded so easy.

  My knee bounced up and down, both from impatience and also from being nervous as hell. “You have to tell me I should do this.”

  “I have to tell you to sleep with a gorgeous guy you’ve been crushing on since you were prepubescent? Really?” Paige tsked her disapproval. “I thought my promiscuous ways had rubbed off on you by now. You’re breaking my heart.”

  “Well, it’s just been…a while.”

  “Since wankjob Larry, right? Exactly why you should hop back in the saddl
e. I mean that quite literally.”

  “Oh God.” I shook my head as I looked at the petrified reflection in the mirror. She didn’t look anything like the confident woman that was usually there.

  Why the hell was I freaking out? It wasn’t like I was a virgin, and I’d dreamed about being the girl in Cameron Mathis’s bed so many times that I’d gone through vibrator batteries like water.

  So why the hesitation, Ryleigh? I was tempted to slap myself.

  “Ry, do I need to read you the list?”

  “Of course not—”

  “Liar.”

  I sighed. “Okay, I think you might have to.”

  Paige cleared her throat, and in her most professional voice, the one that barked orders behind the scenes of hundreds of weddings while also showing a cool head for the bridal party, said, “Number one: You’re good enough. You’re smart enough. And doggonit, people like you.”

  With a groan, I shook my head. “Please not the Stuart Smalley affirmations, or I’m hanging up.”

  “Boo, you’re no fun. Okay, number one: You can’t die having let jizzface Larry be the last person you ever fucked. Number two: You’re the owner of an enormously successful Ice Creamery & Booziery, which is getting ready to make its prime-time debut and possibly become a chain. This alone means you should be having sex to celebrate. And lots of it. Number three: I’m at a reception that not only is missing its bride and groom, but also ran out of alcohol an hour ago. Since I’m not drunk enough to sleep with any of these butterfaces, you have to take one for the team. Number four: You shaved tonight for a reason. Number five: Hello, you’re fabulous. Gorgeous. And you have legs every woman would kill for and every guy would want wrapped around his waist.”

  “That last one is not on the list.”

  “Well, it’s on the Paige list, and you did call me, so deal with it. Besides, it’s true.”

  “You’re so good for my ego.”

  “You’re welcome. Please hang up the phone now and go tackle that hot piece of ass. I demand it.”

  “Going.”

  I hit the end button and bit my lip. I was about to have sex with Cameron Mathis. My inner seventeen-year-old was squealing and doing backflips across the damn high school gymnasium.

  After triple-checking that I’d worn the sheer bikini panties instead of the spandex underwear I’d been tempted to sport to suck myself into this dress, I gave myself one last approving once-over.

  No pressure, Ryleigh, but you’re about to have the greatest night of your life.

  But when I opened the door, that thought flew right the hell out of my head.

  CAMERON MATHIS WAS passed out.

  Like, fully passed out.

  Like, fully passed out and still completely clothed.

  Tiptoeing over to the bed, I poked him to make sure he wasn’t just fucking with me, and a light snore came out.

  Are you kidding me?

  Crossing my arms, I stood over him and stared. He was flawless even in sleep, his face a kind of marbled beauty, like a prized possession you look at but don’t touch.

  And how true is that right now? There would be no touching tonight.

  As much as part of me wanted his blue eyes to flick open and for him to pull me down on top of him, a strange relief washed over me to replace any disappointment.

  With a sigh, I took his shoes off, careful not to wake him, and then pulled the covers down from the top of the bed. He was lying sideways, so I wrapped the blankets over him burrito style and tucked him in.

  Well, hell. Do I stay, or do I go?

  I’d had waaaay too much to drink tonight. So much so, I was starting to see two of him. If I called Quinn to pick me up, I’d never hear the end of it, plus I’d have to come back to get my car tomorrow. Ugh. That option is out. And if I were honest with myself, I wasn’t ready to leave Cameron and never hear from him again, which would certainly happen if I left now.

  With a yawn, I contemplated my sleeping arrangement options, eyeing the empty space on his bed. There was more than enough room for me, but…that was kind of weird, right? Getting in his bed when I wasn’t technically invited there. Yeah, no.

  I yawned again and went out to the living room. The couch did look comfy, and there was a blanket lying across the top of it. That was enough of a sign for me, and this way Cameron wouldn’t think I’d tried to molest him in his sleep. Though the thought was a little tempting.

  Kicking off my heels, I spread myself out on the soft leather and tossed the cover over my bare legs. Turning on my side, I watched the fish swimming around in the coffee table, looking for the pretty one I’d seen earlier. When a lumpy brown one swam past, all I could think was Damn, that is one ugly fish.

  As if it’d heard me, it faced the glass. It looked like it’d gotten lip fillers or something. Did fish even have lips? Okay, maybe now I was super drunk. It stared at me, and I tried to stare back, but man, the thing was hideous. There was no way I could fall asleep with it watching me, so I flipped to my other side and pulled the covers up.

  This not-sleeping-with-your-high-school-crush thing was for the best. There’d be no walks of shame, no awkward exchanges when we ran into each other at the twenty-year reunion. Yes, there was something to be said for keeping your skirt on.

  But there was also something to be said for fantasies being hotter than real life, and it was with scandalous thoughts of what I would’ve done with Cameron that I drifted off to…

  SOMEONE WAS WATCHING me.

  I could feel their stare, feel a body looming over me. Maybe it was Cameron coming to kiss me awake, my very own prince come to life.

  My eyelids fluttered open, a smile beginning to tip my lips as I looked up into—

  Not Cameron’s face.

  “Oh my God,” I said, yanking the covers up to my shoulders as a pair of eyes I’d never seen before watched me. They were dreamy eyes, like melted milk chocolate, and they would’ve been nice to fall into had they not been accompanied by a twinkle of amusement crinkling the edges.

  “Mornin’, sunshine.” The gorgeous guy had a sexy voice to match, and it was then that I realized I must’ve still been dreaming.

  Closing my eyes, I burrowed under the blanket and tried to fall back asleep, so that when I woke up again, I’d see the one I’d fallen asleep fantasizing about.

  A deep laugh rumbled out above me. “I’m still here. Just thought you might want some coffee before Cameron’s alarm goes off and he drinks it all.”

  I opened one eye. “Coffee?” I croaked.

  He smiled at me then, his lips quirked up higher on one side, and my heart stuttered in my chest.

  Holy hell. Who is he?

  I couldn’t seem to form coherent words, so when he asked, “Cream and sugar okay?” all I could do was nod, my brain not really taking in what he was saying. He could’ve been asking me if he could dump the cream and sugar on me and I would’ve agreed in that moment…as long as he promised to lick it off. Wait, no. Bad Ryleigh.

  When he headed back toward the kitchen, I sat up, still clutching the blanket to my chest, and took the opportunity to get a good look at him.

  The guy was tall, though not nearly as big as Cameron, and he wore a faded pair of jeans that had streaks of what looked like paint smeared in various spots across them. A simple black tee showed off his broad shoulders and tan arms, but before I could finish my perusal, he rounded the kitchen bar and was gone from my sight.

  Then it occurred to me that I was probably hot-mess city. Pulling the compact out of my purse, I looked back to make sure he wasn’t watching, and then took a peek at the damage.

  I looked like the Creature from the Black Lagoon. Rubbing away the flakes of mascara from under my eyes, I cursed that I couldn’t seem to wake up like they did in movies. You know, like an airbrushed model that doesn’t have smeared lipstick, bedhead, and dried drool on the side of her cheek. When I noticed the open bathroom door near the kitchen, I grabbed my purse and heels and made a run for it. />
  What I saw in the mirror almost had me turning around and hightailing it out of the apartment. Holy fuck, that reflection was not gonna do.

  I set about retouching my makeup—so grateful in this moment that I’m the girl who never leaves the house without her lipstick and powder—and reworked my hair into a messy ponytail. Then I brushed my teeth with my finger using the toothpaste sitting on the counter.

  When I emerged, I felt not quite so horrendous. Which wasn’t a remarkable step up from ratchet mess, but it would have to do for the moment.

  Wait, why had I stayed here again? And why hadn’t it occurred to me that Cameron lived with someone? A really hot someone. Damn.

  The stranger making me coffee raised an eyebrow when I came to a stop by the kitchen counter, almost as though he’d heard my thoughts, but more likely because I no longer looked like I’d been hit with an ugly stick.

  “Hope you like it strong,” he said as he pushed the steaming cup toward me.

  Butterflies unleashed in my belly, and I didn’t trust my legs to hold me up if I had to drink my coffee under his gaze, so I sat down on the barstool before picking the mug up and blowing into it.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Winking, he took a sip and swallowed. “Welcome.”

  The room fell into awkward silence, and I couldn’t stop my eyes from taking in every one of his features. His dark brown hair was longer in the front, swept to the side in a casual way that made me think he ran his fingers through it often.

  Speaking of fingers…

  My gaze traveled down to his hands, and a tingle of lust shot through me. He worked with his hands; there was no doubt about that. I bet they’d be rough to the touch…

  I stopped those thoughts dead in their tracks, heat creeping to my face as I looked away. Why the hell was I checking out another guy when Cameron was asleep in the next room?

  Jesus. Just drink your coffee.

  The silence between us was thick, and I took a peek at him, but then regretted it. His gaze lingered on my face, intense and curious. Feeling unnerved at the way he was watching me so intently, I decided to break the tension.