Bliss Series Boxed Set: The Whole Damn Harem

by B. J. Harvey

  I shudder. “I’m not even gonna think about how that would go down.”

  “So how did Zander take it?”

  “Huh?” How did who take what where how?

  “Zander . . .” he says, urging me on.

  “Since I’m sitting here enjoying a beer and not breathing through a tube, I’m guessing he still doesn’t know.”

  “You’re fucked.”

  “Yep. He still hasn’t returned my call so I can apologize for the wedding. But that’s not what I need help with.”

  He looks at me and narrows his eyes. “I’m not about to help you do something that will get your ass handed to you on a plate by Zander.”

  “You’re the reluctant woman charmer, and the holder of all the secrets to winning the challenge of the unattainable female. Zoe is a lot like Mac in a way.”

  “That fact is something that hasn’t escaped me. She’s running away from something, and if the gossip train between Mac and Kate is up to date, she seems a bit distracted at the moment. Maybe by a certain ass of a surgical resident she knows?”

  Now this is getting interesting. I never thought there would be benefits to being best friends with the leader of the pack’s husband.

  “And what else, pray tell, have you heard through the grapevine?”

  “I’m sorry, are we suddenly going to start comparing periods and doing each other’s hair? ’Cause I thought we were just having a beer. I left my dress at home.”

  “Shut the fuck up, smartass. I need at least something to tell me that she’s interested, because I thought she was, and then it was one fuck up after another during our date. And before I could talk to her properly, she took off early.”

  “You can’t treat her like she’s another piece of ass.”

  “Dan, you of all people know I’m not an asshole. I don’t go through women like water anymore. I flirt, and I may dabble here and there, but when I’m interested in someone I’m interested in them and only them. We’ve all got to grow up some time. ”

  He scoffs in disbelief. “And you’re interested in Zoe?”

  “She’s someone new, different. She’s fresh air after two years of toxic smoke.”

  “Don’t do it, man. I think both of you should just be friends and be single for a while. God knows you need a break to clear your head. You told me you thought Nikki was serious about you?”

  “I was pussy-whipped, and thinking with the wrong head.”

  He bursts out laughing and holds his beer bottle up to mine to tap. “I could’ve told you that.”

  “Some best friend you are,” I mumble, signaling the bartender for another round.

  “Seriously, Noah. Just steer clear of Zoe. She’s got enough on her plate without having to worry about you.”

  “I’m a catch. Any woman would love to have me.”

  “Keep believing that, Taylor and get me a beer while you’re at it.”

  Chapter 10

  “Light Me Up”

  Zoe

  Needing to clear my head, I wake up early Saturday morning and decide that a long run is in order.

  Noah has been conspicuously absent this week. As embarrassing as it is to admit, I found myself looking out for him, part of me wishing he’d corner me in a consult room again or sweep me into a supply closet. Okay, that last one was definitely wishful thinking—it was good fodder for my sex dreams this week though.

  I’m resolute on my decision to forge a friendship with him. Friends and just friends. That disaster of a date last weekend just reiterated the need to keep my defenses up and my pants on when it comes to Dr. Taylor.

  And that’s the mantra I find myself having to repeat when I see the man jogging toward me in running shorts and a loose tank top that shows everything that I’d want to see and more. He looks as if he’s been at it for a while, judging by the sweat already dripping from his head and the sheen covering his arms. He’s hot and hard in all the right places – well appropriate places for a public party anyway.

  Noah and hard, two words that I should not be thinking about right now. And yep, my eyes drift down to his hips then quickly snap back up again.

  Friends. Just. Friends.

  How does a woman manage to stay just friends with the man who represents the physical embodiment of dirty sex all wrapped up in the perfect package?

  That man does things to me in my head that would be illegal in some states. James Deen eat your heart out, the Noah Taylor in my mind is insatiable. The word voracious comes to mind. Dream Noah is ravenous and creative—so damn creative it makes my subconscious self’s head spin, my heart race, and my lady parts quiver.

  He smiles when he recognizes me and does a quick U-turn maneuver to join my side. We both slow our pace. “You run?”

  “No, I’m practicing my escape from the zoo.”

  He throws his head back and lets out a deep laugh. A spine-tinglingly great laugh, making me want to say funny shit over and over again.

  He matches his pace to mine as he runs beside me. “I didn’t know you liked to run.”

  “It clears my head,” I reply with a shrug. “It also helps maintain my ass, since I eat way too much chocolate in my spare time.”

  “I must say I do appreciate your dedication to your ass-ets.”

  Now it’s my turn to laugh. “That was actually quite good, Dr. Taylor.”

  “I do try,” he muses. “So chocolate, huh? I had wondered what your vices might be.”

  “What are yours?” I blurt out. Seems I just can’t help myself asking questions I might not like the answer to, or might like too much. Still on the fence about that one.

  “We’re swapping personal secrets now?”

  I look beside me to see his head turned toward me, both of us looking at each other while running forward, and all I can think is I bet I fall over first.

  “If you’re game, I am. Quid pro quo.”

  He shoots a wolfish grin my way and I start to think this might not be the best idea I’ve ever had. I repeat my mantra in my head. Friends, just friends. Friends, just friends.

  “Okay. My vices, if I’m being honest, would be beer, football, a good back massage, and hot, sweaty sex, in no particular order.”

  My step falters and I have to concentrate on staying upright the moment I hear the words come out of his mouth. “You totally went there.”

  “Totally did.” He wears a huge knowing smirk on his face. Damn him and his sexy smirk. I swear he’s the king of smirks. He would ace a Smirking While Looking Sexy class, probably double majoring in Dropping Panties 101. “So are you going to tell me your other ones now?”

  “Well as previously mentioned, I do eat more chocolate than my doctor would probably recommend.”

  “If I was your doctor, I’d prescribe ways to work it off. It’s an easy fix and much more fun.” His mouth is close to my ear now. I’m beginning to wonder how he’s still able to succeed in putting one foot in front of the other when I’m struggling not to fall flat on my face. “Besides, I’ve studied your ass on a number of occasions and I’d say you’re doing just fine.”

  Friends. Just friends.

  I’m quiet for a moment, my mind racing at the direction of this conversation. It’s going ‘down under’ and I’m wondering how deep I should go with these confessions. Then I figure, why the fuck not? What have I got to lose, other than my dignity, any respect he might have for me, oh—and the illusion that I’m a good girl? But who cares about that anyway?

  “You really want to know my vices?” I ask, my voice breathy, and not just from the running.

  “Definitely.” His voice is low and guttural, just how you’d imagine him growling in your ear while taking you hard. Or something like that.

  “Okay then. My vices, in no particular order. Fast cars. Whiskey. Porn and sex.” I speed up a bit, distracting myself from the groan I hear from my impromptu running partner.

  “You’re not going to make it easy for me, are you?”

  I shake my head but sa
y nothing, a sly grin on my face saying it all. This conversation is too good to stop now.

  “I told Daniel I’d be good and just be friends with you. Our group is incestuous enough but Jesus, woman, you just told a man like me that you like cars, whiskey, porn and sex, and you don’t expect me to have a mental image of you bent over the hood of a Charger while I lick whiskey off your naked body?”

  “Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, turning away to stop myself from saying—or doing—something I would most probably regret later.

  “My thoughts exactly. So let’s go back to safer topics while my cock gets the message that it’s not getting to play today.”

  Okay so that was funny. So funny I start giggling like an idiot.

  “Glad you find it funny. You should try running with a hard-on,” he grumbles, which just makes me laugh harder. Don’t look down, Zo. Even if you want to.

  Urgent change of topic needed. “Are you invited to the joint bachelor/bachelorette party next weekend?”

  “Amazingly yes. I’d thought for sure Zander would’ve hunted me down by now.”

  “I would’ve kicked his ass before I let him do that. And he knows it.”

  “I get it, you know. You’re his baby sister. He’s been the man of the house for a long time. He’s just looking out for you.”

  “And he thinks you’re bad for me? He couldn’t protect me from Justin, so fuck knows why he thinks he should step in now.”

  “Justin?”

  We approach a park bench and I decide it’s the perfect place to stop, leaning my hands on the back of the seat to stretch my hamstrings. Noah copies me, pulling his leg up to rest on the seat, inadvertently drawing my attention to his calves, his thighs, his . . .”Who’s Justin?” he asks again, that deep voice of his distracting me once again.

  “My ex. He got a bit . . . attached, you could say.”

  “Why did you need protecting from him? Did he hurt you?”

  “No, he just wouldn’t accept it was over. He’s harmless, but he freaked me out enough that I moved here. It was better for everyone to get some space between us.”

  “Has he bothered you since you arrived?”

  I hesitate, wondering whether he’ll go straight to Zander and tell him. “A few texts, calls, the normal stuff. I’ve just decided not to engage with him. He’ll get over it.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  I stand up straight and face him. He’s wearing a deep frown, and his eyes are full of some indescribable emotion.

  “I live with a cop. He won’t try anything again.” There’s a flash of anger in Noah’s eyes when I say that. I just hope he doesn’t probe any further. I don’t want to talk about Justin, ’cause talking about him is akin to acknowledging the inconvenience he’s becoming in my life. I’m happy in my denial bubble because inside of this orb, nothing can touch me. That’s what I keep telling myself anyway.

  He puts his hands on my shoulders, ducking his head down to look at me. “You’ll let me know if you need help, right?”

  “Noah, it’s nothing. I can—”

  “No, if he turns up or it escalates, you tell me and I’ll deal with it.”

  He’s touching me, and right now I’d agree to anything he says so I nod and I blink away that annoying sting in my eyes that tries to take hold.

  “Right then. I’ve finished my warm-up. Are you ready for another five miles now?” He starts running and looks over his shoulder at me. “Come on, slow poke. I’m making you look bad.”

  Oh shit, this man wants to kill me by running me ragged.

  I bite my tongue, stopping myself from blurting out that there are much more enjoyable ways to die. I just focus on the reward I plan on giving myself when I get home. ’Cause God knows I’ll have enough inspiration.

  ∞∞∞

  Noah

  I’m knee-deep in chart hell when a friendly face pops through the doorway. “Fancy finding you here.”

  My whole body seems to relax the moment I see her. Something happened during our run yesterday. I can’t even pinpoint when it happened, all I know is the loose hold I had on my restraint when it comes to her has been well and truly lost now. I also think that any resolution she had to keep me at arm’s length took a beating as well.

  “We really should stop meeting like this. People might start to talk about the friendly MRI staff making house calls,” I tease.

  “You wish,” she replies with a wide smile.

  Zoe Roberts is even better than I could’ve wanted. She’s friendly and funny, gives you all her attention when she’s with you, and she’s fucking gorgeous to boot. Her brown hair shines in the light in such a way it almost glimmers and her blue eyes are so deep, I’ve struggled many a time not to get lost in them. She may be six years younger than me, but she’s so damn smart that she gives me a run for my money every time I try any kind of cocky shit on her. She gives it back to me as good as she gets.

  She’s perfect for me in every way. She just won’t admit it yet. My eyes drop to her sneaker-clad feet and roam up her bare long-as-hell legs. Those are legs every single male imagines having draped over his shoulders or around his waist, or spread wide on every available surface. I’m not fussed either way. She’s wearing a fitted blue knee-length skirt that has me picturing all the ways I could strip her out of it. Quickly skimming over her white polo shirt, as always my eyes get stuck on perfect breasts I’ve admired from afar for far too long.

  I put my pen down and lean back in my chair. “Well I kind of do, but that’s a whole other story. How’s your day going?”

  “Good,” she says as she steps into the room, notably leaving the door still open. “How are your legs after the other day?”

  You’d think she just asked me how last night’s jerk-off session was with the way my body’s acting. Just seeing her has my cock’s attention. “They weren’t too bad. We kind of pushed each other a bit far.”

  She throws her head back and laughs. “You think? I haven’t been worked that hard in years. Talk about a good distraction.”

  She looks at me and starts blushing. Obviously, because I’m the man I am, my mind goes straight there and focuses on all the ways I could work her hard and how much fun it would be doing it . . .

  “So I was thinking about what we talked about the other day concerning She Who Can’t Be Named. Maybe not sleeping with anyone for a while might be exactly what you need. No sex. No random hook-ups.” Her face is dead serious but I can see her cheeks flush again, and I don’t even try to hide a huge grin. Something about hearing the word sex come from a beautiful woman’s lips does things to a man. “I don’t think fucking your life away will make you feel any better. Maybe you just need time to, you know, not fuck.”

  “Say that word again.”

  “What word?” she asks, looking adorably lost.

  “Well, hearing you say sex was hot, but hearing you say fucking was a hell of a lot better. So how about you say ‘sex and fucking’ in the same breath, and really finish me off.”

  “You’re such a dirty perv.” Her lips twitch as she struggles to hold off a grin.

  “Keep talking, Zo. I’m almost there.”

  “Oh stop!”

  “You love it.” I grin back at her.

  She looks at the ground and I can see her trying to keep a straight face but she fails dismally, unable to hold back a smile.

  “See? Told you. You can’t resist my charm.”

  “You’ve got me. It’s just too much for me, Dr. Taylor. I’m starting to feel faint just being in your presence.” She’s totally making fun of my reputation but I soon join her when she starts laughing again. “Anyway, I must get back to it. Keep smiling, Noah. It keeps the panties loose, I hear.” With a wink and a nod, she disappears out of sight and leaves me shaking my head. But at least no one can see the stupid goofy grin I have on my face.

  That woman is one of a kind. She reminds me of Mac in a lot of ways, but to me she’s in a whole league of her own. A challenge, an
enigma, and a treasure to be savored in a five-foot-ten package that makes my mouth water, my heart beat faster, and my dicker harder than it’s been before.

  Fuck resisting the pull of Zoe Roberts.

  Zander may kill me but I’d rather take a chance or die trying—a distinct possibility when trying to win over a protective cop’s younger sister.

  She’s worth it though.

  My phone chirps with a text, and all I see are two words.

  Zoe: Sex and fucking. My two favorite words ;)

  Oh yeah, totally fucking worth it.

  Chapter 11

  “Want to Want Me”

  Zoe

  I’m starting to think I should’ve changed my number. Justin calls at least once a day and the texts, oh my god, the texts are getting out of control. I’ve even started leaving my phone on silent just so I can ignore it. I’ve changed my number twice in two months, the last time being just before I moved here. Somehow he always gets the new one.

  Would be a lot easier if I didn’t keep sneaking looks at it in the hope Noah would send me a text. But it doesn’t happen.

  It doesn’t mean I haven’t replayed the scene in the park over and over again in my head. Him imagining me on the front of a hot car naked while he licks whiskey off me is up there with the hottest fantasy I’ve ever heard of, and was definitely on the highlight reel when I got home, stripped off and dealt with myself with the ol’ one finger bean bang.

  Now I’m wearing what I call my ‘fuck me’ dress. I don’t actually want to get laid tonight; I just want to look like I do. Yes, that sounds weird, and I know it’s probably the last thing I need right now, but tonight I want to look hot. Sue me.

  And just because Noah Taylor, superstar of my spank bank, is going to be there doesn’t mean anything.

  Keep telling yourself that, Zo.

  When Kate and I went shopping this morning, this was the kind of dress I had wanted to find—a black mini dress that comes down to probably a hand-width below my ass with a chiffon overlay over the torso, giving off a peek-a-boo vibe that suits my mood to a tee. This dress is a sex-on-legs dress—it certainly shows a whole lot of leg, and almost shows my lady business. But since I won’t be throwing my legs up in the air or dancing on any tables, I think my dignity—albeit barely—will remain intact.