by Monroe, Lila
“If you do that, then I won’t be able to do this,” he says, pulsing his fingers deeper. “Or this . . .” He curls them, just right. “Or this.”
Seth sets his mouth on me again, licking and swirling over my clit as his fingers thrust in perfect rhythm until I can’t take it anymore. I explode in a climax that sweeps through my body, leaving me panting on the other side.
Holy shit!
I lie there boneless, catching my breath and questioning everything I thought I knew about great sex. Which apparently was nothing.
When I remember my name again, I look up at his smug grin. The one he totally just earned. “So.” My voice is gravelly, and I clear my throat. “That was pretty nice.”
His eyebrows go way up. “Pretty nice?”
“Well, yeah,” I agree, smiling. “But we’re not done, are we?”
His grin widens. “No, we are not.”
“Condom?” I ask, and then I nearly panic because I know I don’t have any. And it’s not like he was planning this.
We look at each other for a long moment and then say in unison: “James.”
“I never, ever want to hear or say that name again while you are naked,” he says. “But I bet he was hopeful.”
“Ugh,” I say. “I’m so with you there. But yeah, he better be a boy scout.”
“Don’t move,” Seth says, which is hilarious—because seriously?—and then hurries toward the bathroom.
He returns with a sardonic smirk, holding up a giant, Costco-sized box of condoms.
I laugh. “Seriously? That guy was hopeful with a capital wishful thinking.”
“No kidding,” Seth chuckles. “I understand all that Gatorade in the fridge, now.”
I snort. “Let’s see if we can put a dent in both.”
“As you wish,” he says, tossing the box on the bed.
I lift an eyebrow. “Did you seriously just make a Princess Bride reference?”
“Inconceivable!”
I laugh, but I need to look away. I’m so very charmed by him right now that I’m worried my heart is on my sleeve. Figuratively, of course, because I’m totally naked.
Speaking of naked, one of us isn’t. I get up off the bed, step toward him, and pull up his shirt. “You’re wearing way too much.”
And there it is. His manly, sculpted chest that I want to press my face into. So, what the hell, I do. “Golf is working for you,” I say, licking across his abs. He rumbles in laughter under my tongue, but as I reach for his belt, the laughter turns to a tummy-quivering gasp.
We climb onto the bed and he opens the box, tearing one of the condoms off the strip. He smiles down at me, his expression intense and playful.
My breath catches.
It’s never been like this. I’m not just talking the sparks and the mind-blowing orgasms—though those things sure don’t hurt—but he’s fun and charming, and even though we don’t know each other that well, it’s comfortable between us. Easy. Like I’m having sex with a really good friend.
Who is also a god in bed.
Seth rolls the condom on and then kisses me again, pulling me back into a lustful tangle of hands and tongues and limbs until both of us are gasping, and I ache to feel him again.
He moves into position and slowly thrusts into me.
Goddamn . . .
I moan into his shoulder, because God, he feels so good. Thick and deep, the friction already driving me wild as he starts to move. We find just the right rhythm, giving the luxury mattress a run for its money. Higher and higher, and I can’t believe it, but I feel the tension rise again, and when Seth rolls us, bringing me down on top of him, I have to moan out loud.
“Don’t stop,” I gasp, riding him hard. “Don’t. You. Dare. Stop.”
Seth groans, gripping my hips so tightly I bet he’ll leave marks, but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything except the feel of him, thrusting deep inside of me, and the rock of friction where our hips meets, and—fuck—the explosion of pleasure that rips through me.
Again.
Seth groans, shuddering into me as his own climax takes him over. I roll off him, breathing hard. “Holy shit,” he says.
“Uh huh . . .” I manage, my heart pounding. Finally, I come back down to earth.
“So . . . Exactly how many condoms were in that box?”
The answer? Plenty. And we make good use of them, alright. I wake up tangled in the sheets next to Seth. I have enough time to notice his soft expression and his impossibly long eyelashes before they flutter and he opens his eyes.
“Hey,” he grins.
“Hey yourself,” I say, grinning back. I wait for the awkwardness to hit: you know, the morning-after stammering about “not putting a label on it” and “keeping things casual,” but instead, Seth just brushes my hair out of my eyes.
“You good?”
“Let’s see.” I pretend to think. “I had about eight thousand orgasms of the mind-blowing variety, so yeah, I think I’m good. You?”
“Maybe not eight thousand,” he smirks. “But a few, also of the mind-blowing variety.”
“I guess we owe James a thank you,” I muse, looking around. “This couldn’t have been a better setup if we tried.”
“Didn’t we agree that we wouldn’t say that name while we’re naked . . . wait . . .” Seth looks under the covers. “Yep, we’re totally naked.”
I laugh and wiggle my eyebrows. “Good morning to you.”
He grabs me and pulls me on top of him, rolling his hips into me. “Mmm,” I say, leaning down to kiss him. “As nice as this is, I’m desperate for a shower.”
“Same,” he says. “You know, we should probably share. To save water, and all.”
I grin. “Oh, well then. Water conservation is really important.”
We get very clean. Then quite dirty. Until the cabin’s hot water runs out and we stumble out, laughing and soapy. We towel each other off and fall back into bed, doing our best to use up all of James’s condoms, since he was generous enough to provide them for us.
We’re just grabbing a snooze when I get an idea and grab my phone. “Smile and say, ‘Sex god’!”
SNAP.
Seth looks startled. “What are you doing?”
“Oh, you know, just sending a little something to James as a thank you.”
“April!” Seth’s eyes widen. “You can’t!”
“Why not?”
He sits up, grabbing my phone. “Because it’s a serious violation of the Romeo rules!”
“You have rules?”
“Yes. And they involve not hooking up with targets.”
“A target, huh? So romantic,” I say, only half-kidding.
Seth sighs. “You know what I mean. Please, April, James can’t know about us.”
Us . . .
“So, there is an ‘us’?” I ask, feeling bashful.
Seth grins. “There better be. I don’t use these moves on just anyone, you know.” He grabs me and wrestles me to the mattress again.
I shriek with laughter. “OK, OK,” I agree, “I won’t send it to him . . . But I am showing my friends what a stud I pulled,” I add with a grin. Before Seth kisses me into submission again.
As well as proving his skills in the bedroom, Seth also manages to track down a mechanic to come fix my van. We drive out to meet him, and miracle of miracles, it’s an easy fix.
“Thank you, thank you!” I smother him in gratitude—and free flowers—before he drives away. But once he’s gone, I turn back to the van with a sigh.
The very full van, containing thousands of dollars of gorgeous blooms. Most of them are still in pretty good shape, too.
“I hate to see them wasted,” I say.
Seth looks at the flowers. Then back at me. “I have an idea. Follow me in the car.”
So, I do. Seth leads us to a nearby town and then pulls up outside a big, boxy building.
I get out. “The hospital?” I ask, joining him on the sidewalk.
“Maybe w
e can brighten things up for a few patients.”
My heart melts.
“First water conservation, and now this?” I tease, trying to cover for my heart-eyes. “So much for that bad-boy image. You’re a big ol’ softie!”
Seth grabs my hand and tugs me close, crushing his lips to mine in a kiss that’s anything but soft.
But I’m not fooled. Especially when we take in the flowers and I get to watch him interacting with the nurses and patients. He’s a natural, with easy smiles. He even flirts harmlessly with some of the older ladies on the seniors’ ward, leaving smiles and good moods in his wake. He has such a warm, easygoing personality, I have to admit I was wrong, thinking he was just an empty, charming playboy.
This guy has depths, alright.
When we return to the parking lot, I feel good. My heart is as full as my van is empty. What an amazing turn of events after a stupid scheme that could have totally wrecked, well, definitely James’s surgical career, since I would have pretty much ripped his arms off if things had gone to his (creepy, entitled) plan.
Except now Seth and I have to part ways for the drive back.
“I guess I’ll see you in the city . . .” I say, reluctant.
“I guess so . . .” Seth reaches for me. We kiss. And kiss. And oh baby, do we kiss. Until it’s starting to border on indecent. I give serious consideration to making good use of the floor of my van. I mean, there are some stray rose petals in there. That makes it romantic, right?
“We should get on the road,” Seth says. Even though he’s not moving. His eyes are trained on my mouth.
“Yeah,” I say.
One more kiss, then we each reluctantly get behind the wheel of our vehicles. But I’m not even out of the parking lot before my cellphone rings.
It’s Seth.
“Hang on,” I say, answering. I quickly connect to my hands-free system and then hit the speakerphone. “Missing me already?” I tease.
The sound of Seth’s laughter comes, warm. “Damn right I am. So, tell me about yourself.”
“What do you want to know?” I ask, smiling.
“Well, we’ve got three hours . . . How about you start at the beginning. Kindergarten,” he says, and I laugh.
“Well, I was freaking adorable, for starters . . .”
We talk the whole ride back, and the journey flies by. Soon, we’re back in the city, pulling up outside my building. It’s already dark out, and I realize we spent half the day in bed back at the cabin.
Not that I’m complaining. In fact . . .
Seth walks me up to my apartment. “So,” I say as I fumble with my keys. “This was fun. It could have been pretty stalkery and awful, but for the gods of burst appendixes.”
He laughs. “Maybe we need to take that guy some flowers.”
I tug his shirt so he steps closer. I go up on tiptoe and kiss him. I’m about to invite him in when the door opens behind me. It’s only Seth’s quick reflexes grabbing me that keeps me from falling inside my apartment.
“Oh, hello, April,” Katie says, amused. “It sounded like you were struggling with the door, so . . .”
I turn and throw her a knowing grin. “Hi, Katie.”
But she’s not looking at me. She’s like the cat that ate the cream as she gives Seth an approving once-over. “And you must be Seth,” she says, perceptive as always.
“In the flesh,” he says.
And oh, what amazing flesh that is. My cheeks heat, part from being caught making out in the hallway and part because my thoughts are so very X-rated right now.
Katie mutters something about having food on the stove and ducks back inside. I have a feeling she’s got her eye glued to the peephole.
“I should go,” he says, looking reluctant. “Change my clothes. Make sure my roommate hasn’t been hosting a mass orgy. But . . . I had a good time. A great time.”
“Me too,” I whisper, reaching up to kiss him again.
But this time, we both know we have company waiting through the (thin) door, so he keeps things PG-rated.
Seth finally pulls away. “See you soon?”
“Yes please.”
He grins and saunters away, and I head inside . . . where my cousin is waiting with an expectant smile on her face.
“Talk. Now!”
14
April
It turns out, I do see Seth soon. The very next night, in fact. And the next. And the next. We basically have become inseparable, but I do manage to tear myself out of his (well-toned) embrace for a girls’ night with Poppy and Natalie, to bring them up to date on all my orgasmic news.
“So wait,” Natalie says, shaking her head. “That creeper James lured you up to a cabin deep in the woods because that would be the ticket to you coming around and falling head over heels for him?”
“Right?” I snort, through a mouthful of burrito.
“Has he never watched a horror movie. Like . . . ever?” Poppy scoffs.
“I know!” I cry. “He’s seriously the worst. So clueless!”
“But it worked out,” Natalie points out. “With Seth, who came to the rescue.”
Poppy and I sigh in unison. I can’t stop smiling about him. About us. I’m orgasm-drunk, but who can complain about that?
“Luckily,” Katie says. “That whole situation had the potential to be really, really horrible.”
Now that I’m living with her, I’m learning that Katie—the breakup artist—can be really cynical about relationships. She’s not wrong in this case, though.
“But crisis was averted,” I remind her. “And we all lived happily ever after. Well, happily ever for now.”
“You’re done with James though, right?” Poppy asks, checking.
I nod, emphatic. “Ewww, yes. I mean, he’s texted me a few more times, but I’m not even dignifying him with a response. He’ll get the hint soon enough. Anyway . . .” Just then, a text comes in. I hold my breath, but thankfully it’s not from James.
“Look at that ridiculous grin!” Natalie laughs. “Text from your new boyfriend, April?”
“Maybe . . .”
Let me know when you’re done with the girls, and I’ll come over.
Oh, boo.
“What’s wrong?” Natalie asks.
“Seth wants to come over tonight,” I say, even as I start to text him back. Cant 2night. Early morning tomorrow. Flower market.
I’ll come with u, he sends back, making my heart happy. But he has no idea what he’s agreeing to.
At 3am? I ask. There’s a pause. And then three dots.
“Bets on if he’ll go with her?” Poppy says.
“I don’t know . . .” Katie makes a face.
“Are you kidding? He’s all in,” Natalie argues. “He’ll do it, for sure.”
I shrug. “Three a.m. is a valid excuse.” I’d hardly blame him for not wanting to get up in the middle of the night to go buy flowers. I mean, I love it, but that’s me—I’m slightly crazy. And sleep deprived.
I’m in, he sends finally.
Natalie whoops. I mock-frown at her. “Going to the flower market with me is hardly whoop-worthy.”
“Yes, it is,” Poppy says, serious. “Totally whoop-worthy. You’re worth getting up at godawful o’clock. Your man should know that.”
“He’s not my man,” I say. “Yet.”
Katie slides an arm around me and pulls me close into a side hug. “Just a matter of time, Apricot.”
I don’t want to seem overly hopeful, so I return to my phone. I text him where and when to meet me.
His response makes my insides melt, even as I laugh.
As you wish.
Even though I’m used to the early, early flower shopping, I’m not used to doing it with company. Especially hot, sexy company that requires mascara and a cute outfit.
I’m also not exactly a morning (middle-of-the-night?) person, so on the way, I stop for a vat of coffee. I get Seth one, too and drive to the Chelsea wholesale flower market, a little sleepy, b
ut a whole lot excited to see him.
I park the van and make it out onto the street by the front doors. There he is, waiting for me. I have to admit, I’m kind of surprised. It is, after all, dark-thirty. I half-expected him to bail.
“Please tell me one of those is for me,” he says, nodding toward the cups in my hands.
I nod and hand him his. He takes it and leans to kiss me. It feels like a whole lot more than just a “thank you for the caffeination” kind of kiss.
“Hello,” I say when we come up for air. “I should bring you coffee more often.”
He grins. “So, want to show me the ropes?”
I tilt my head. “You’re really interested, huh?”
“I’m a curious guy.” He grins. “Teach me all your flower-buying ways.”
So I do. I lead him inside and take him around to all my favorite vendors, showing him how to test the flowers for freshness, why it’s best to order in season, and why I don’t mind spending a bit more for the very best blooms. As I chat with my vendors, placing orders for my upcoming events, Seth stays out of my way, but I can tell he really is interested. Maybe even a little impressed.
“I can’t take those calla lilies,” I tell Amelia, apologetic. She’s one of my favorite flower importers. “They wouldn’t last in the bouquets.” I sigh, thinking about the small wedding I’m planning for. The bride asked for callas and I told her I’d do my best, but there’s no guarantee with off-season flowers. She put her trust in me and there’s no way I can let her down with browning and wilted flowers for her bouquet that would look less than perfect in her photos. “Do you have any stephanotis?” I ask instead, naming a less popular—but just as beautiful—flower. “They have a different look, but I think for this casual wedding, they’ll make for a beautiful bouquet.”
Amelia nods. “I do. And you’re right about the callas—they’d be fine for today or tomorrow in a vase, but I wouldn’t trust them for a bouquet, either.” She laughs. “Brides can be so hard on their bouquets—they need to be sturdy and fresh. Let me grab some of the stephanotis from the back.”
I take a pile of the beautiful and perfect stephanotis and some other things that will help fill out the bouquets.