Nome-o Seeks Juliet (An Odds-Are-Good Standalone Romance, #2)

by Katy Regnery

  “We can be teammates who fuck,” I say. “As long as we’re adults about it.”

  “What does that look like?”

  “It looks like...having sex,” I say. “It looks like...having fun.”

  “But if it gets all tangled up somehow—”

  “You still need me to race the Qimmiq,” I say. “Right.” I clear my throat, still looking up at him. “Okay. How’s this? I promise...no matter what happens between us, I will race the Qimmiq with you.”

  His tongue peeks out to lick his lips again, and I have a quick flashback to being on the plane, imagining his pillowed bottom lip between my teeth. I pull his face down to mine and bite him lightly.

  “Fuck me, Cody,” I whisper.

  He rolls off me and stands up, offering me his hand...but then, like he realizes he just did something terribly wrong, he yanks it back.

  “Fucking give me your hand, Cody,” I tell him as I sit up.

  We’re going to have to overcome this barrier, because it’s not going to be much fun if he thinks he needs to hide his hands from me while we’re screwing.

  He stares at me intently, then offers me a hand, but it’s his left this time—the one with three fingers—not the right that he originally offered. Fine. We’ll take it step by step.

  I take his hand, letting him help me up and lacing my three fingers between his as he leads me back to his bedroom.

  When we get there, he lets go of my hand and opens the door, preceding me into the room. It’s dark but smells like Cody the same way Steinfuck’s office smelled like sex. I close my eyes and breathe deeply: wood fire, dog, the bar of soap from the shower, the spicy deodorant he wears that I’ve come to love. It all mixes together and smells like...him. It makes me smile.

  I hear his coat hit the floor, and I reach for him in the darkness, my hands landing on his shirt. I dispatch the buttons quickly, and he reaches behind his neck to pull off the undershirt beneath.

  For weeks, I’ve wondered about Cody’s chest, imagining it tight and hard, with defined muscles built up over seasons of intense racing.

  I’m not disappointed.

  As I flatten my hands on his chest, over his nipples, I exhale a breath I didn’t know I was holding. His skin is warm and smooth as my hands slide down, over the rippled muscle of his chest. I trace the line of his V and sigh. I’ve been dreaming about what Cody looks like naked, what he’d feel like under my fingers, and I can’t lie: he feels amazing.

  “All of this from training dogs?”

  He chuckles softly. I can feel the rumble of it under my fingertips and it makes me wet again.

  My fingers stop at the waist of his jeans, and I unsnap the button and pull down the fly, flattening my palm over the bulge behind the V of tiny metal teeth. He’s thick and straining under my palm, almost pulsating beneath a thin layer of cotton, and hot against my skin. My heartbeat speeds up. I can hear it in my ears.

  He pushes his pants down, and while he does, I throw my fleece and shirt over my head, unhook my bra and unbutton my jeans. Then I stand there in the darkness, waiting for him to touch me.

  He doesn’t.

  Not at first.

  “Cody,” I say, placing my hands on the warm, smooth skin of his shoulders, “take off my jeans.”

  I can hear him exhale through his nose as I demand this, but I don’t feel his fingers touch down on my waist.

  “Cody,” I say again, stepping forward and reaching for his arms, “take off my jeans.”

  I slide my fingers down his arms to his wrists, pausing for a moment before taking his shaking hands in mine. I realize that he’s probably frozen at the prospect of touching me, of being intimate with a woman when I suspect it’s been a long time for him. But aside from the fact that I’m still a little drunk and horny as hell, I want him to share this with me. I want to be the woman who lets him know that he’s beautiful...that all of him...is beautiful.

  I pull his hands to my waist, skimming them down to my hips. When his hands hit my waistband, I move my hands away, putting them back on his shoulders. My bare nipples brush against his chest and I shiver.

  “Cody,” I whisper, “take off my jeans. Please.”

  His trembling fingers dip into the waistband of my underwear, and my breath catches, because there’s something intensely erotic about being the first woman he’s touched in such a long time. He pauses, as though expecting me to suddenly come to my senses and push him away, so I reach for his face with my hands and pull him down to kiss me. As my tongue slides across the tight seam of his lips, they loosen, opening for me, at the exact same time, he shoves my jeans and panties over my hips.

  They pool at my ankles as our kiss deepens, and I step out of them, so that I’m completely naked. Then I wind my arms around his neck, feeling his palms skim over my ass, then up to my waist. He caresses my back, his touches more confident as he wraps his arms around me and pulls me over to the bed. He falls back and I fall on top of him, straddling him, annoyed that he’s still wearing boxers, because I want to feel the hot hardness of his cock between my thighs.

  Flattening one hand on his chest, I scoot to his side, kneeling beside him. Then I reach for his boxers, pulling them up and over his straining erection. He leans up, so they slip over his ass, then wiggles them down his legs as I straddle him again.

  We are naked with each other, skin to skin in each other’s arms. His cock slides into the wet folds of my sex, already lubricated by my hunger for what’s coming. He is silk pulled tight over muscle and massages the bud of my clit by thrusting gently against it. I moan softly, sitting up, moving my hips in tandem with his.

  “God, that feels good.” My voice is breathy, and I sigh, leaning forward to kiss him again.

  He’s strong and quick, though, and flips me onto my back before my lips connect with his, and suddenly I feel the wet heat of his mouth on my nipple, sucking it between his lips and laving it with his tongue, the bristles of his beard a welcome friction against my soft skin. I clench the comforter in my hands as the sensations intensify, letting my head push back into his pillow as he slides his lips to my other breast.

  It’s been weeks since my body was loved like this, and I arch my back, whimpering softly as he plays with my taut nipples, one covered by his palm, the other by his mouth. His cock slides between my legs, moving slowly over my clit, and my pussy starts clenching because I want him there too.

  It’s still dark, but my eyes have adjusted enough to see him lean up on his elbows, looking down at me. His eyes are shiny in the moonlight, and they claim mine, holding them for a long moment while his pelvis slides neatly over my slit, his cock rubbing me with smooth, deep strokes.

  “I want you,” I whisper. “So much.”

  “I don’t have...”

  “Condoms?” I pant. “It’s okay. I’m on the pill...and recently tested clean.”

  “Juliet,” he says, my name sweet on his lips, “I didn’t think...I never thought...”

  “You’re a good man, Cody.” I reach for his face, cupping his cheeks gently. “Don’t you know how much I like you?”

  He leans down to kiss me, moving his hips so that the tip of his sex is lined up with the entrance of mine. His breathing near my ear is ragged, and his body is trembling, and I wonder if he’s waiting for permission from me, or just savoring the moment.

  I thread my hands through his thick hair, running my fingers over the muscles in his back, and resting them on his ass. Then grasping at his flesh, I push him forward.

  With a deep groan, he slides into my body without stopping, until he is full and pulsating, deep within me, and I cry out at the invasion, welcome though it is. He’s big—much longer and thicker than Steinfuck—and I have to catch my breath for a second, letting the walls of my pussy relax, then expand as they glove him like a second skin.

  “Jesus!” he bellows, his breathing jagged and raw as he pulls out of me, then plunges forward again.

  I can feel the strength of his body over
mine—the way his arms on either side of my head are planted, not shaking, as he holds his body up, not just resting all of his weight on me. I don’t think I’ve ever been with anyone as physically fit as Cody, and it makes something inside of me surge with primal attraction. My feet slide up the backs of his legs, opening my sex to him completely as he pistons into me.

  “Faster,” I pant. “More, Cody!”

  His hips move faster, his breathing more and more erratic as he rests his sweaty forehead against mine.

  “I’m gonna come,” he says, his voice breaking over the words as every muscle in a body made of muscle tightens so beautifully, I feel like I’m being fucked by a Greek god.

  “Come inside of me,” I say, tightening my legs around him as that surge within me becomes deafening. My body tenses with his, then shatters, rippling into an orgasm the size and intensity of which I’ve never experienced. I feel him empty his balls into my pussy in hot, wet streams of cum, and I close my eyes, panting through the extraordinary cocktail of sensations.

  I don’t know when he rolls us onto our sides, but we’re facing each other, still intimately connected, when I open my eyes.

  He stares at me, his slick lips tilted up in the most natural smile Cody’s ever offered me, and I reach up to trace it with my fingertip.

  “Thank you,” he says, gently sucking my finger between his lips before letting it go. “Thank you, Juliet. My God. Thank you.”

  The evidence of our lovemaking slides in hot streams from my cunt, slippery and wet on my thigh. I don’t care. I’ll shower when we’re done.

  And we’re not.

  Not yet.

  Not by a long shot.

  After having Cody once, I’m not even close to sated.

  I clench my pussy muscles on purpose, as hard as I can, and he gasps.

  “More,” I whisper, smiling with satisfaction as I feel him start to harden again inside of me.

  ***

  Cody

  When I wake up the next morning, Juliet is gone, and if I wasn’t still naked, I’d almost wonder if what happened last night was a dream.

  But I can still smell the faint scent of vanilla on my pillows, and my body, which hasn’t been inside of a woman in fourteen long, lonely years, practically hums with satisfaction. We had sex three times last night: twice in bed and once in the shower, and after that, she snuggled up warm and naked in my arms and fell asleep.

  I don’t know why she left in the night—maybe she needed more space or maybe it felt too intimate to stay all night. I don’t know, but I wish she’d woken up beside me.

  I hope she doesn’t feel like sleeping with me was a mistake.

  But that thought catches and sticks.

  Does she think she made a mistake? Is that why she left? To put some distance between what happened and this morning?

  My chest, which was proud and full, deflates like a three-day old balloon.

  It’s not that I’m in love with Juliet. I’m not.

  But I like her.

  I like her so much, I feel like if she decides that last night was a mistake, I’ll want to die a little. I can’t remember the last time anything felt so amazing, so right. But more, I wasn’t lonely before Juliet arrived. I had my home and my dogs, an occasional drink with Jonas and Rita. My life may not have been full, but it was good enough for me.

  But now? After having her in my arms last night?

  How can anything else compare?

  How can anything be “good enough” ever again when I’ve touched and tasted heaven?

  I swing my legs over the side of the bed, and stand up, stretching my arms over my head before grabbing some underwear, a pair of jeans, and a flannel shirt. I get dressed quickly, then head into the kitchen where I fill a lobster pot full of water and put it on the stove to boil. I cut the strips of meat from the block last night before we went out, but I have to go out to the grub shack to get them. As I’m pulling on my boots, I hear Juliet’s steps on the stairs, and my neck snaps up so fast, it’s a wonder I don’t get whiplash.

  Her hair is braided neatly, and the makeup she wore last night is gone, but this is the woman that likes me, that I fucked three times last night. I’m certain, beyond any measure of doubt, that she’s the most beautiful creature on the face of the earth, and I can’t help the smile that blooms across my face as I look up at her.

  “Morning,” she says, her cheeks pinkening as she glances at me.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “Water boiling?” she asks.

  I nod. “Yep. Gotta go out to get the pot and strips.”

  “I already have boots on,” she says. “I’ll go.”

  It might be my imagination, but is she acting a little cagey, a little awkward?

  I stand up. “About last night...”

  “I drank a lot,” she says with her back to me. With her hand on the doorknob, she turns to face me. “Sorry I jumped you.”

  “I wasn’t complaining.”

  “It was fun, but I’m not...” She clears her throat. “I’m not looking for anything serious, Cody. I want to be sure you know that. I don’t want to lead you on.”

  “You’re not. You said you were looking for fun.” I shrug. “I’m good with that.” Liar.

  “Oh,” she says, looking relieved. Her smile seems comfortable, not forced. “Good.”

  “Good,” I murmur, nodding at her as she turns back around and heads out the door.

  I’m left alone, wondering what the hell I just agreed to...but the reality is that it doesn’t matter. What she gave me last night was so wildly unexpected, so astonishingly generous, my most creative, improbable dreams couldn’t have imagined such bounty. If someone had asked me yesterday if I thought I’d ever have sex again with a beautiful woman, I would’ve given them an unambiguous and categoric no.

  And now, here I sit, with brand new memories of her warm skin pressed against mine, her sweet voice whispering in my ear, the small whimpers of pleasure she made when I entered her body, the way it felt when she looked into my eyes and—

  “Here we go,” she says, stepping back into my house with the ten-gallon stew pot filled with the frozen meat I cut yesterday. She pauses with her back against the door, her eyes meeting mine. “Cody...I’m so full of shit.”

  “Sorry?”

  “All that stuff I just said,” she says, gulping softly. “The truth is that last night was a lot more than ‘fun,’ and I have no idea what I’m looking for, because I can barely get my mind around what we just did.”

  I can’t tell if this is better or worse than her saying she doesn’t want anything serious, but I think—I’m not sure, but I think—it’s better. My heart hardly dares to beat, waiting to see what she says next.

  “I have feelings for you,” she whispers, her blue eyes wide.

  Infinitely better.

  “I have feelings for you, too,” I answer softly, standing in front the couch, facing her.

  “But that’s all I know,” she says, dropping my eyes.

  I cross the room, taking the stew pot from her hands and placing it on a table by the door.

  “That’s good enough for me,” I tell her.

  She’s only a few inches shorter than I am, but her head is bowed. I lift my left hand, placing my three fingers under her chin and tilting her face up so I can see her eyes.

  “I’m all over the place,” she says, her eyes glassy and confused.

  “I’m not.”

  I’m right here with you, and it’s the only place in the universe I want to be.

  Her lips twitch for a second, then tilt up. “Then you anchor us, Cody, okay?”

  Us.

  It’s such a little word. Such a tiny word. Two small letters shouldn’t have the ability to make my heart swell with so much tenderness for her, but they do. I haven’t been half of an “us” in so long, I’d given up hope of it ever happening again.

  And so, for as long as she’s here, for as long as she’s mine, yes, I’ll anchor us. It
would be my pleasure. My honor.

  “Sure,” I say, opening my arms to her.

  She steps forward to lay her cheek on my shoulder, and I clasp her tightly against me, closing my eyes in thanks that this woman—despite my injuries and clumsiness—wants to give us a chance.

  After a minute, she lifts her head and looks up at me with a happy grin on her lovely face. “Hear that?”

  I nod at her, unable to keep my smile at bay because wherever we’re going, we’re going together, and for now, that’s good enough for me.

  “Dover wants his breakfast,” I say, listening to the howls of my alpha and his pack.

  She leans up on tiptoes, brushing her lips against mine in a gesture so natural, it stuns me. I’m frozen for a second before my muscles relax and I hold her tighter, kiss her deeper. When she finally draws away, her lips slick from mine, she winks at me.

  “Don’t keep a hungry man waiting,” she says, all sassy-like, heading toward the kitchen, but throwing a teasing grin over her shoulder as she starts preparing their stew.

  For a second, I stand still, watching her go, knowing that one day when she walks away, I won’t be able to follow.

  But for now? For today? She’s mine.

  (I’m our anchor, after all.)

  So I do.

  Chapter 8

  Juliet

  Here’s the thing about having sex for the first time after a night of drinking: you skip a lot of steps. You move too fast, when pacing yourself might’ve been a better idea.

  Cody and I never had a tentative first kiss, or a clumsy first make-out. We jumped from teammates to lovers in the space of an evening, and while the sex was mind-blowing, those skipped steps don’t just go away. You still have to figure them out. Because, with every step toward intimacy, new feelings flare up, and each new feeling builds on the last until what you feel becomes what you know, and that truth exists not on the shaky ground of impulsiveness, but on the rock of deliberate election.

  What I’m trying to say is this: having sex too fast can make things awkward.

  And this week, I’m experiencing that awkwardness in ways that aren’t devastating, but are...a little uncomfortable.