by Laura Lee
“This whole setup thing may be my fault,” I admit. “I haven’t been the easiest person to be around lately. They’re probably sick of dealing with me.”
Her red lips turn up in the corners. “I’ve been a bit difficult lately, too. And when I say difficult, I mean bitchy.”
I laugh. Rainey’s never one to mince words.
She smiles. “I missed this.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Missed what?”
“Talking to you. Looking at you. Laughing with you. Hell, I’ve missed everything about you, Brody.”
I don’t say anything...I just gaze into those chestnut eyes of hers. Funny thing is that neither one of us seems bothered by the silence. It’s comfortable. That’s a good thing, right?
After a minute or so, I finally speak. “I’ve missed you, too, sweetheart.”
She swallows hard. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” I nod.
“Are you seeing anyone?” Rainey chews on her bottom lip, waiting for my response.
“Not unless you count my right hand. That’s been seeing a lot of action. So much so, that sometimes Lefty needs to pinch-hit.”
Her laughter is musical. “Oh, my God, Brody, only you would bring up masturbation at a time like this.”
I shrug, not ashamed in the least. “I’m just being truthful.”
Her expression sobers. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said. Like, it’s all I seem to think about.”
I wince. “About that...I’ve been wanting to apologize for some of the things I said that morning. I was really angry...and frustrated, so I said some pretty dickish things that I didn’t mean.”
“It was completely warranted, Brody. And it forced me to face the ugly truth head on. I should be the one apologizing.”
“What truth?”
She gulps. “That I was being a coward. You see, I’m in love with this big, goofy man-child and I didn’t have the balls to tell him, so he walked away from me—rightfully so. He thought I didn’t love him or trust him enough and that’s so far from the truth, it’s scary. I let my bitterness from my past affect the present. I unfairly made assumptions about this guy, when in fact, he was nothing like those assholes who treated me poorly.
“I don’t know when it happened, but at some point, I realized that he made me happier than I’ve ever been in my life. That became even more apparent when suddenly, he was no longer in my world. I’ve been a fucking wreck without him, Brody. I thought ending things before my heart became too invested would save me from this pain. What I didn’t know, was that my heart was already too invested.”
I exhale in relief. Fuck, that feels good to hear.
“That’s funny you say that, because there’s a certain ginger that I haven’t been able to get out of my head. Both heads, actually. She’s kind of ruined me for any other woman. I think about her no less than fifty-five thousand times a day. Her tits twice that.”
She laughs with tears in her eyes. “I love you, Brody Harris. I’m so fucking in love with you and I’m so sorry I couldn’t admit that two months ago.”
I can’t torture myself—or her—anymore, so I round the table and cage her in against it. “Say it again.”
“I love you. I can’t promise that it’ll be smooth sailing all the time; there’s a lot of shit that I need to work though in my head. One thing I’m certain of though, is how I feel about you. I want to be with you, Brody, for the long haul. I want everything you mentioned in that voicemail, and then some. If you can manage to forgive me, I want to start right now.” She gives me a shy smile. “So...what do you think?”
“Well, for starters, I think you should kiss me,” I say with a smirk. “Then, I think we should go somewhere a little more private so you can show me what you have under this fuckhot dress.”
She has the cutest little giggle. “You’re an idiot.”
“True. But you love it.”
“I do.” She wraps her arms around my neck and plays with the short hairs at the base of my skull. “Now shut up and kiss me.”
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re hot when you’re bossy? It’s—”
Rainey doesn’t let me finish my sentence which is perfectly fine by me because my mouth is otherwise occupied.
“It’s about time you two got your heads out of your asses!” a deep, familiar voice shouts.
We break apart from the kiss to find Drew and Devyn approaching our table. Jesus, these two are really good at being sneaky.
I flip him off. “Just wait until it happens to you, asshole.”
Drew laughs. “Never gonna happen, dude. But I’m glad to see that we no longer have to deal with Grouch Ass One and Grouch Ass Two. That’s what we’ve been calling you, you know.”
“Lovely,” Rainey says as she rolls her eyes.
Devyn chuckles. “When I told Drew how much Rainey was fighting the idea of going out tonight, we put together this little plan to make you two talk. Since you were both being such stubborn asses, we had to do it on the sly.”
“Well, thank you,” I tell them honestly. “Really. I owe you guys big time.”
“I second that,” Rainey says. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have some makeup sex to get to.” She looks up at me and smiles. “You wanna get out of here, Brody?”
I pull her into me so she can feel how anxious Thor is to get out of here and get into her.
“Honey, I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter Fifty
RAINEY
Well, it’s official. I’m taking a chance on love, although it really isn’t much of a gamble. More and more every day, Brody shows me that he’s all in and then some. As odd as our pairing is on the surface, Brody and I click so seamlessly it’s almost nauseating. And let’s not forget about the sex. The sex is still mind-blowing.
Every. Damn. Time.
You kind of hate me a little right now, don’t you? That’s okay; I would too.
I sigh when Brody’s strong arms wrap around me. “You almost ready to go?”
I lean into the mirror to carefully apply my lipstick. “Yeah, I should be ready in five.”
His hands tease the hem of my sweater dress. “My mom will kill me if we’re late but it might be worth it.”
We’re spending Christmas Eve with his parents about twenty miles south of the city, and then we’ll head over to my parents’ beach house tomorrow morning and stay for a couple of nights.
I meet his eyes through the mirror. “What are you talking about? It’s only a thirty minute drive; we don’t have to be there for an hour.”
He bunches the knitted fabric over my hips and runs a finger under the strap of my thong. “What I have planned for you will take a lot longer than half an hour.”
I drop the eyeliner when that finger dips inside of me to gather my arousal then starts making circles over my clit.
I grip the counter with both hands and moan. “Jesus, Brody.”
He plunges two fingers inside of me and uses the other hand to work my pussy pearl. “You like that, honey?”
I gasp when his fingers quicken and he starts trailing kisses down my neck. “We’re going to be late.”
I can see his smile through the reflection. “Do you really care right now?”
“Nope,” I pant.
I watch as his right arm plays my body like a maestro and his left arm unfastens his pants, pushing them over his hips. What is it about fucking in front of a mirror? It amps the hotness factor up by like, a million.
“Besides, I can be quick.” He removes his fingers, tugs my panties aside, and thrusts inside of me. “I’ll make it up to you later.”
“Fuck!” I shout, as he grabs my hips and slams me down until my ass smacks against his balls.
No matter how many times we’ve done this, my body still hasn’t gotten used to his thickness. Over and over, again and again, Brody doesn’t relent. The chorus of our combined moans and slapping skin echo throughout the room until I can feel him tensin
g, signaling his impending orgasm. He wraps his left arm around my front and begins toying with my clit again.
“C’mon, baby, I need you to get there. I’m not going to last much longer.”
Brody grunts deep in his chest when I spread my thighs wider and bend forward until my breasts are lying against the marble countertop. He winds his arm back with an open palm and smacks my butt cheek so hard, I know that he’s left a hand print.
Why does that always feel so good? I lift up on my toes, presenting my ass to him, and moan.
“Do it again.”
Slap!
“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” Brody rubs the spot he just spanked, soothing the sting. “Fuck, Rainey, I need you to come, baby.”
With one more thrust, he pinches my nub and suddenly, I’m riding this insane crescendo that only he can deliver. I cry out with desperation for more—dying to make this feeling last as long as possible—mindlessly fucking myself against his cock. Brody’s right behind me, tightness evident in his thighs as I clench around him. He groans long and hard as he comes, straining against me. Our bodies fall lax as we float down from the high. Sweaty and sated, we remain there on the bathroom counter until our heartbeats calm.
He places an open-mouthed kiss on my neck. “I love you so fucking much, Rainey.”
I give him a lazy smile as our eyes meet in the mirror. “I love you more.”
He smirks. “Now that’s debatable, because if you add in how much I love your tits,” he grabs said tits, “there’s no room for more. We’re talking infinity here, babe.”
“Always with the tits,” I chuckle. His dick stirs with the motion from my laughter, sending a twitch to my throbbing pussy.
“Only your tits, honey.”
We disconnect and go through the process of cleaning up and righting our clothing so we don’t show up to dinner looking freshly fucked. This is Seattle after all; we could always blame our tardiness on the traffic.
I grab my phone off the vanity and check the time. “Shit, we should’ve left no later than twenty minutes ago.”
“One more thing first,” Brody says as he pulls me in for a kiss. “I wanted to give you something.”
My eyebrows rise. “Isn’t that what you just did?”
He laughs. “Yes, but this is something else.” He retrieves a glossy business card from his wallet and hands it to me.
Willow Chase, Senior Broker
Chase Realty
“Why am I looking at a realtor’s card?”
“I talked to her yesterday about listing,” he explains. “She said Downtown Seattle has a low number of condos on the market right now so it’s a seller’s market. She was pretty confident that we would get top dollar if we decided to sell.”
“Huh?”
Brody links his fingers through mine. “We’re with each other every day. We sleep in the same bed every night unless you’re on shift at the hospital. I don’t see the point in paying two mortgages and I was hoping you’d feel the same.”
“Oh, wow. You want to live together?”
He smiles. “Honey, we’re already living together. We’re just doing it at two different apartments.”
True.
“So how would that work?”
“A few different ways.” He shrugs. “I could sell my place and move in here. You could sell this apartment and move into mine, or we could sell them both and buy something together. I’m open to whichever option you’d prefer.”
“I kind of like the idea of finding a new place together. Something that can be ours from the start.”
“I like that idea, too. Maybe we could even look at houses in the suburbs. Something with more bedrooms to fill with tiny humans down the road.”
“How awfully domesticated of you,” I joke.
Brody and I aren’t formally engaged or anything but it will happen one day—we’re not really in any rush. We talk about the future a lot and there’s no doubt we’ll be together.
He winks. “I’m a reformed man, baby.”
I pull him into a kiss. “Let’s give the realtor a call right after the holidays.”
He smiles. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, Brody. I’m all-in.”
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Keep reading for a preview to Deal Makers, Drew and Charlee’s story.
Deal Makers
(Uncorrected draft)
©2018 Lovestruck Publishing
CHARLEE
Why is my bra hanging off the lamp?
I stare at the lacy red garment in disbelief. That is not the lamp from my hotel room, which means I’m in some rando’s bed. A quick peek under the covers confirms that I am, in fact, naked as the day I was born. Also, a freakishly large hand is covering my right breast.
Why is a stranger pawing my boob?
I wiggle away from the offending hand as I try recalling the events from last night. Despite my best efforts, the only thing my brain will produce is a blur of shots lining a bar and...Lady Gaga? Goddamn, how much did I drink? My head feels like all seven dwarfs are tunneling through my skull. And my mouth tastes like ass. Not that I’ve ever tasted ass, but you know what I mean. Nausea rolls through me as I gather the courage to roll over and see what I’m dealing with here.
Oh.
Okay, ignoring the fact that I had sex with a complete stranger, maybe it’s not so bad. The mystery man’s face is buried beneath a fluffy white pillow but the parts that I can see are quite nice. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a guy with so little body fat in real life—his biceps are probably bigger than my freaking head. As I take in the thick tribal tattoo winding around his upper arm, I get a sudden flash of tracing that ink with soft kisses.
Whoa.
Continuing my perusal, little bits and pieces come back to me. This guy’s bronzed chest is ridiculously wide and his abs are chiseled all the way down to a very lickable V. I should know, because my tongue was all over it last night. My lips turn up in the corner when I see the beginnings of a neatly trimmed patch of hair. I’ve always appreciated a man that keeps up with his pube maintenance. Nobody wants to suck on hairy balls. Just sayin’.
In case you’re wondering, mystery man’s balls are smooth as a baby’s bottom.
God, why can’t I remember anything other than getting freaky with a faceless stranger?
Is that a nipple ring? Damn. I can’t say I’ve given it much thought before, but that tiny little barbell is hot. The stark white sheet is resting over his package but there’s a considerable bulge beneath the cotton. Plus, if the thing poking me in the ass when I woke up is any indication, this guy is hung.
One little peek won’t hurt, right?
I mean, it’s not like I haven’t seen it before, right? It’s totally for science—maybe it will trigger another memory. I pinch the sheet between my thumb and forefinger, lifting it just enough to get a look-see-loo.
Wow.
Let’s just say my soreness makes perfect sense now. Also, that memory triggering thing did a bang up job, because now I know that I somehow fit that anaconda in my mouth. Huh. Maybe I’ve recently learned how to unhinge my jaw.
Jesus.
I guess if you’re going to have a drunken one-night-stand, a nice body and big dick isn’t a bad way to do it, right?
I drop the sheet when the giant next to me groans and rolls to his other side. Shit, I need to stop ogling him and get out of here before he wakes up. I carefully slide out of bed and slink across the floor to the crumpled pile of black fabric. With the dress clenched in my hand, I crawl over to the sitting room and crouch behind a chair to pull it over my head. My panties are MIA so it’s going to be a little drafty, but I’m more concerned about getting out of here unnoticed than searching for them. I can’t bear the thought of leaving my favorite bra behind though, so I risk returnin
g to the bedroom before I go. As I carefully untangle the straps from the lampshade, something on the opposite nightstand catches my eye.
What the hell?
No longer giving any fucks about my stealth, I run to the other side of the bed and grab the cheesy cardboard frame. There’s an eight-by-ten picture inside, of me and a beast of a man, smiling like circus clowns, standing in front of a Lady Gaga impersonator.
Well, that explains that.
If this is the same man lying in that bed—which by his sheer size alone, I’m assuming so—then, the faceless stranger isn’t so faceless anymore, nor is he a stranger. I’m not sure if that makes this situation better or worse though. Why can’t I recall anything? And why am I holding a little bouquet of flowers? I flip the frame over and almost vomit on the spot when I see the logo imprinted on the back.
Hunk of Burning Love Wedding Chapel
Las Vegas, Nevada
Taped to the back is a folded piece of paper. I open it with trembling hands, hoping and praying that I did not do what I think I did last night. I squeeze my eyes shut when I catch a glimpse, willing the words on the paper to change. I open my eyes and look again, but no such luck. I’ve officially become a cliché.
“What in the ever-loving-fuck happened last night?!” I shout.
The hulking man groans again from beneath his pillow. I go to rip it off his face, but pause when the sunlight catches the little gold band wrapped around my finger. More specifically, the fourth finger on my left hand. When did that get there? Oh yeah, it must’ve been when I got freaking MARRIED!
I grab the pillow and begin whacking my apparent husband in the face repeatedly.
“Ow! What the fuck?” he screams.
I throw the pillow across the room. “’What the fuck?!’ What the fuck, is right! This has to be your fault, you stupid asshole!”
“Charlee?” He blinks his eyes rapidly, clearing the sleep fog. “Why in the hell are you in my room? And why are you beating the shit out of me?”
“That’s a great question, Drew! Why the fuck am I in your hotel room?”