EPILOGUE
Grant paced across his living room one more time, his boots creating a monotonous beat in the empty cabin. How could she not be answering her phone? Maybe the thing had died. Or, maybe she wanted to tell him the news in person. Or, maybe it hadn’t worked out, and she was sobbing in her car and too upset to call him.
“Dammit.” He checked his phone one more time to make sure it had a signal, then shoved it back in his pocket. “Come on, baby, toss me a crumb—a text, something.”
He laced his fingers behind his neck, trying to massage some of the tension away. He’d offered to go with Charli this morning, but she’d given him that back-off-cowboy look that he’d learned to heed. She had no idea how that feistiness made him hard every time she directed it his way. If she thought she was getting away with being a bossy thing, so be it. She didn’t need to know that all it did was add to the list of things he’d do to her later when he had her tied up and begging.
The sound of an engine had him hustling toward the front door. He stepped outside, his blood pressure immediately lowering. She was home. Safe. However the audition went, she was here and they could deal with it. Charli climbed out of the car, and Grant scanned her expression trying to read the answer before she told him.
Her lips were tipped down as she headed up the driveway. “Hey there.”
Her sad puppy tone and hang of her shoulders had his hopes tumbling. She hadn’t gotten it. He pulled her up onto the porch as soon as she was within arm’s reach and dragged her against him. “I’m sorry, freckles.”
She circled her arms around his waist. “They said I was too quirky for an anchor position.”
He pulled back, holding her at arm’s length. “Quirky? What the fuck is wrong with them? It’s called having a goddamned personality. I thought the new executives they hired couldn’t be as idiotic as the others, but clearly I overestimated them.”
She looked down, shaking her head. “It’s my fault. I stumbled in my heels on the way to the desk, then tried to make a joke out of it by taking off my shoes and telling them I was the barefoot reporter. Then when they gave me a story about Tom Brady sustaining an injury, I mentioned in the report that I’d named my cat after him because they both had good hair.”
Grant couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped.
She hit him with a look equivalent to a kick to the balls. “You think this is funny? My dream just went to hell and you’re laughing?”
She shrugged out of his grip and stomped into the house past him.
Well, shit. “Baby, I’m not laughing at you or your dream, I just…” He followed her into the house. “If those assholes can’t appreciate your humor, the girl you are, then who the fuck needs them? There are other TV stations out there who’ll appreciate you. We’ll look…”
But as he babbled on like an imbecile, she spun around on her her heel and with her hands on her hips, her how dare you glare morphed into a broad gotcha grin.
His words halted and he narrowed his gaze, her shift in demeanor smacking him upside the head. “You little shit. You got the job, didn’t you?”
She tipped her head to the side, her eyes all sunshine and mischief. “Not exactly.”
“Spill it, freckles.”
“So…all that stuff I told you was true. I did trip and talk about my cat. And they offered someone else the anchor job. But…” She rocked forward on her toes with every word, like she was barely restraining herself from bouncing up and down. “They offered me my own show.”
“What?”
She made a sound he’d never heard come from her before—the oh, my God squeal that teenage girls seemed to have the patent on. Then her words poured out of her at a speed that could break the sound barrier. “They’ve been wanting to do a daytime show that features the kind of stories I research, feel-good stories about athletes and local organizations. Dig into the beyond-the-playing-field things. And they wanted someone the viewers could relate to—someone who would make them laugh but also who knew her sports. And they think that’s me. They want it to be me!”
She did hop this time and then launched herself at him. If she’d known how very girly she looked in that moment, she’d never worry about being too tomboy again. He wrapped his arms around her and spun her off her feet, her elation contagious. “I’m so proud of you, baby. I knew someone would have to see how perfect you are for this.”
He set her down on her feet and she grinned up at him. “I had you going there, didn’t I? Mr. Dom who can read everybody got punked by my superior acting skills.”
He attempted a stern look, though he was too thrilled for her to truly pull it off. “You had me worried out of my mind. Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
“And miss out on this fun? Hell, no.”
He gripped her hips and seated her against the growing bulge in his jeans. “You realize how much trouble you’re in now, right, Charlotte? You didn’t think tricking me would have consequences?”
Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips in a nervous tic that had anticipation tightening in his groin. “Maybe I don’t mind consequences.”
He pulled her down onto the couch with him, a soft yelp slipping past her lips. “Well, now I really have no choice. Purposely goading me. Reckless girl.”
“Sorry, sir.” The words were an apology, but he could hear the want in her voice, the ache.
God, he loved how playful she was. It made everything all the more fun. He turned her to the side, then draped her across his spread thighs. She squirmed against him for a moment, then softened, her muscles melting against him. He could already sense her slipping into subspace. She fell under so easily now it took his breath away. Beautiful.
He lifted her skirt and slid her lacy panties down her thighs. He ran a hand along the smooth skin of her ass, loving the quiver her body gave at his slightest touch. Her sexy scent drifted up to him and he had to take a few seconds to settle his own aching drive. Sometimes he wanted her so badly he feared he’d fire off like an inexperienced teenager.
“You think it was nice to make me worry about you, Charlotte?”
Her fingers curled into the couch cushion. “No, sir.”
He rubbed a circular pattern along the globes of her ass with his palm, then drew back in a high arc and delivered a stinging smack on the right side. She arched her back and her breathy moan stoked the embers already burning hot in him. He gave her a matching swat on the other side, her fair skin going pink instantly. He relished seeing his handprint on her, his mark. His fingers traced the shape. Pity those marks faded so quickly.
“You made me pace the floors, love.” He spanked her center, right above the soft, already damp folds of her sex. She let loose a more desperate sound as a shudder worked through her. Whether she realized it or not, her hips tilted higher, silently asking for more. He brushed his fingers along her wetness, dipping inside and feeling the clench of her pussy. “You know, if I was a betting man, I’d say that you tricked me knowing this would be the outcome. Am I not being hard enough on you, freckles? You need more discipline than I’m giving you?”
Since they’d moved into together, he’d been testing her limits, getting a feel for where she needed him to push and where he needed to pull back. But maybe he’d been too soft. Figuring out how to do this with love in the mix had been his own version of edge play—scary and thrilling but uncharted territory.
She turned her head, her cheek pressed to the couch but her hooded gaze on him. “All I need is you, Grant. You don’t have to be careful with me or hold back. What pleases you is going to please me.”
The words wrapped around his chest and squeezed, the gift of her true submission almost too heady to process. She was his. Honestly and without fine print. No contracts or carefully negotiated rules. Just he and Charli finding their way together.
He brushed the back of his hand over the line of her jaw. “Get up, Charlotte. Show me you know how to properly apologize for your inconsiderate behavior.”
Charli pushed herself up and off his lap, her blood pumping and her head buzzing. Today had been one of the happiest she could remember, but nothing had felt complete until she’d walked into this cabin and told Grant about it. And he’d been right. She knew he’d make her pay for teasing him, but she’d needed nothing more at the end of this day then to give herself over to him, to surrender.
She’d never been able to stand the quiet before him, had always sought distraction. But now, this sacred space created between them in these moments was like balm for her psyche—the silence soothing. Contentment bled through her as she stood in front of Grant and slipped out of her clothes, keeping her eyes down and her movements slow. She could feel his gaze on her without looking up, could sense his overwhelming desire for her. If his goal in the beginning had been to make her feel beautiful, he’d succeeded. She never felt more confident than when she was stripped bare before him.
She knelt in front of him, placing her hands on her thighs.
He shifted forward on the couch, his hand drifting over her shoulder. “Darlin’, I have to tell you, I’ve never been happier to have been so damn wrong about someone. You’re more perfect in submission than anyone I’ve ever seen.”
Her skin heated as if her blood had been turned to simmer, a slow rolling warmth starting at her chest and radiating outward. “Thank you, sir.”
“Now, how do you think I should have you apologize?”
She dropped her focus to the floorboards, listening to the steady beat of her heart. The tips of his boots came into view. “I’ll do whatever you’d like me to.”
“Present your back to me, arms behind you.”
She sat back on her legs and then hinged forward, chest to thighs. Her face ended up hovering inches above his boot. She’d joked with him early on that she’d never kiss a man’s shoe—had scoffed at the idea. But as she stared at it in front of her now, she was suddenly mesmerized by the symbol of all that represented this man—tough, unpretentious, and scuffed in a way that made it more beautiful. And as if the desire had always been there, waiting until she was ready to accept it, she knew the perfect way to apologize. She lowered her head and pressed her lips to the warm leather.
For once, the sharp intake of breath wasn’t her own. She closed her eyes, his approval falling over her like soft rain. She’d pleased him. And even if she still didn’t fully understand why that affected her so deeply, she felt the stir inside her, the rightness. They both stayed there in a moment that seemed to stretch as wide as the land surrounding the cabin.
Finally, he shifted and she raised her head. His gaze hit her like a branding iron, a permanent sear to her system. He captured her face in his hands. “I’m going to take such good care of you, sweet Charlotte. I won’t let a day pass where I don’t show you how much you mean to me or how much I value the gift of your trust.”
His words moved over her like soft strokes, his stripped-to-the-studs declaration smoothing any sharp places left inside her. She smiled, blinking through the hazy shield of unshed tears. “Just love me, Grant.”
“I already do.” He claimed her mouth, a slow languid dance, and she could feel everything in that kiss. The years of loss he’d been through, the ache for her in the moment, and the promise of all that was to come.
When he broke away from the kiss, there was fire in his eyes, a predatory flash. A ripple of delicious fear skated over her nerve endings. She loved his sweetness, the tender way he could make her melt. But that darkness that lay in wait for times like these fed something deep and primal inside her. She craved his control, his marks, the pain she knew would push her up and over the edge to pleasure.
She’d sensed him holding back with her since she’d moved in, as if he was afraid to really let her see the extent of that side of him. But the way he was looking at her now was anything but tentative.
“On your feet, Charlotte.”
She climbed to a stand, and he grabbed her by the back of the neck, nudging her forward. “Kissing my boot is very much appreciated, but it’s not going to get you out of what I have planned for you. Walk.”
He led her into the bedroom and released his grip. “Strip the bed of all but the bottom sheet, then lie on your stomach.”
“Yes, sir.” She did as she was told, hurrying to yank the duvet and blankets from the bed and dumping them into a corner. Then she climbed onto the bed and lay down.
His hands were on her in an instant, wrapping rope around her wrists and ankles, stretching her into a facedown X position on the bed and knotting the rope at the far corners of the headboard and footboard. She tried to wriggle, testing the slack, but she was pressed tight to the bed with no give. A little wave of panic shimmered over her. He’d never bound her to where she couldn’t move at all.
“Boy, you look pretty like this,” Grant said, stalking around the bed and stepping out of her line of sight. She strained her ears, trying to determine exactly where he was but still flinched when he finally touched her. His palm cupped her sex from behind, spreading her and painting her with her own juices. “All spread and slick for me. Very nice.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, the ache for him overtaking any lingering anxiety over her helpless position. She knew if he’d taken the time to tie her, he wasn’t going to rush things. The thought was simultaneously enticing and maddening. He dipped his fingers inside her and grazed his thumb over her clit. Yes. She pressed her hips downward, seeking more pressure, but he moved his hand away.
“I’m thinking fair punishment is that you wait for me as long as I had to wait for you today. Which by my estimation was…an hour and ten minutes.”
Oh, shit.
An hour of teasing? She wouldn’t make it. She’d dissolve into desperation if he made her hold off that long. “Please. I’m so sorry, sir.”
He scoffed. “I’m sure you are…now. Which, by the way, is an hour and eleven minutes too late.”
“I’m—”
“Hush.”
The ominous sound of him unzipping his “goody” bag had her breath quickening and her pulse hopping into her throat. Of course, he’d placed his stuff far out of her view so she had no idea what his evil plan may be. She turned her head, the one movement she could manage, but all she could see was his back reflected in the mirror over the dresser as he hunched over his bag.
He turned around, meeting her gaze in the mirror. “Worried, love?”
“Maybe.”
His grin bordered on sinister. “Smart girl.”
The bed dipped as he climbed behind her, making the sheet brush against her already sensitized skin. He placed a hand on her hip first and then slid it down her thigh. “Hold still.”
“Yes, sir.” As if she had a choice.
Cool silicon nudged her sex, then slid between her and the bed, pressing against her clit. He flipped on the switch, and the powerful hum of the vibrator filled the space.
“Oh, God, yes,” she murmured, sensation spreading from her center outward. Blessed relief.
But he wasn’t done with her. Without giving her a chance to adjust to the vibrator he slid something thick and flexible inside her channel—a dildo. Whoa. She arched but had nowhere to go, no escape from the rush of pleasure. Her body automatically tensed, trying to stave off the orgasm dancing at her nerve endings. She’d been revved up since she’d pulled into the driveway, and her body wasn’t in the mood for patience.
Grant traced the crack of her ass with his fingertip, the simple move sending a thread of need curling up her spine. “Denial can be a fun game, Charlotte. Forcing you to hold back for an hour could prove quite tortuous.”
He smoothed cool gel over her back entrance, tucking a finger inside and sending her control system into near-meltdown stage. She pressed her face into the bed, the mattress absorbing her whimper, her pleas for mercy. Hold on, hold on…
“But the opposite can be fun, too,” Grant said, his voice soft, lulling, and far too wicked to be trusted. He slipped his finger out of her and replaced it with what she knew had to be a plug, nudging it past her entrance and filling her to capacity.
“Oh, God.” She raised her head, her neck arching, and sweat instantly slicked her body as her temperature seemed to increase tenfold. How could he expect her to hold anything back while being stimulated like this? The vibrator pulsed against her clit slow-slow-fast, slow-slow-fast, causing her muscles to clench around the dual invasions inside her. The sensation was overwhelming and relentless. Blissful torture. Even when she tried to shift her hips, there was no escaping the sure stroke of the vibe. Her fists clenched.
“Grant,” she begged. “Please, I can’t…”
“Shh…” He dipped his tongue into the dimples at the base of her spine, circling them with teasing strokes that somehow made her nipples tingle against the sheets. “I don’t expect you to, sweet Charlotte. You can come as many times as you’d like.”
“I can?”
But before she could even process what that meant, his teeth sunk into her ass cheek and it was like pulling the pin in a grenade. Her body rumbled against the mattress and sensation exploded through her, splintering her in all directions. Her muscles contracted around the foreign objects inside her, begging, needy. Her body wanted to writhe, to thrash, but the ropes bit into her, holding her taut.
“That’s right, baby. Fight through it. You make the sexiest fucking noises. I could spend all night listening to you, watching you.”
The slippery sound of lube against skin mixed in with her own moans, and she realized Grant was pleasuring himself behind her. Long, heavy strokes mixed with panted breaths. The image only served to push her orgasm higher, the idea of his big, firm hand sliding along his cock while she lay bound beneath him was one of the most erotic she could imagine.
“Ah, God,” Grant groaned, the slippery sound of his hand getting faster, more urgent. “Give me another one, Charlotte. Come with me.”
The vibrator shifted to the exact right spot and a second wave of bliss knocked the breath from her. A grinding scream left her throat, and Grant’s moan joined hers. She trembled with the sharp intensity of the orgasm, this one almost unbearable in its power. “Grant!”
Hot spurts of his release landed on her back, marking her, owning her. She panted her way through the death throes of her orgasm as his seed dripped down her sides in a slow, sensual slide.
She sagged into the mattress, the vibrator still dancing against her oversensitive clit.
“So gorgeous, baby. I almost regret not setting up a camera and catching how perfect you look right now on film. But I’m not done with you yet.” The mattress shifted and a wet towel touched her back as Grant cleaned her off.
Then the bed dipped again as Grant got up, and she waited for him to come around and remove the vibrator and dildos, but as seconds slipped, anxiety started to rise in her. “Grant?”
“Yes?” he said, the smile in his voice clear.
“The vibrator. I can’t take…”
Then pain striped her back, slicing off the end of her sentence like a sharp knife. She cried out in surprise.
“We’ve still got a while to go. This will take your mind off the vibrator.” The strips of leather hit the flesh of her backside, the sting raining down on her and crackling outward.
“Ah, Jesus.” She gritted her teeth, the combination of pain coalescing with the continued stimulation and the remnants of her orgasm. She turned her head, catching sight of the cat-o’-nine-tails sailing through the air again. She braced. Smack.
She bit her lip, choking down another yelp. He’d never used that on her before, but son of a bitch, did it have a bite.
“Breathe through it, love,” he said, his voice soothing though not apologetic. “Wait for it…”
He struck her across the back of her thighs, causing her body to shift hard against the vibrator. Oh.
Another lash.
Her skin was tingling, her muscles drawing tight, tighter.
Another.
The pain began to change, morph, drawing those lovely chemicals into her blood system, making her thoughts go fuzzy.
And another.
Wait for it, wait for it… His words drifted like a mantra in her head. So close…
He whipped a final time. Hard.
And there it was. Potent and without mercy, orgasm dragged her under, the agony and ecstasy mixing into that perfect cocktail to send her flying.
Tears stung her eyes as she cried out, shouted, calling Grant’s name like a plea to God. For less, for more, she wasn’t sure. But she no longer had control over the sounds she made or her body’s reaction. As soon as she thought she was slipping from the peak, he’d rev her up again. Touching her, tasting her, knowing just what to do. All the while talking to her, praising her, loving her.
By the end of her hour, her mind had succumbed, the physical overtaking all executive functioning. He’d pulled so much from her, she wasn’t sure she could form words or even move if she wasn’t tied down. She wet her dry lips, her voice barely a whisper. “Grant, please.”
He stepped to the side of the bed, pushing her sweat-slicked hair off her cheek. “What, baby, tell me what you need?”
She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze through her haze of pleasure. “I need you.”
The smile that crossed his face nearly broke her open. He untied her wrists, rubbing the feeling back into her hands, but left her feet tied wide. Then he was behind her, slipping the toys from her and kissing the welts on her back. “You are so beautiful, Charlotte. So goddamned tough and beautiful.”
Each kiss sent a shiver through her, the pain completely replaced with the sweet heat of adrenaline-laced bliss. She could barely lift her head. He draped himself over her back, supporting himself on his forearms, and pressed the head of his cock against her swollen entrance. “I’d turn you over to see that pretty face, but I don’t want to put the pressure on your marks.”
She angled her hips, pressing back against him, unable to bear another moment without him inside her. “Just take me like this. Please.”
“You got it, love.” He pushed forward, his cock hot and heavy inside her, and she let loose a sigh. She would’ve stayed tied up all night as long as she knew this was waiting for her at the end of it. He rocked his pelvis back then eased into her again, his breath spilling onto her neck. “God, you feel good, darlin’. Am I crushing you?”
“No, I like it.” And she did. His body was heavy against hers, her lungs unable to fully inflate, but the feeling of being so completely overpowered by him had her drifting deep under the spell of the moment.
A low growl rumbled from him, and he canted his hips harder, claiming her with more ferocity, more speed. “You know what it does to me when you get like this, when I can actually feel your total surrender?”
Her breasts pressed into the bed, the rhythm of his motion scraping her nipples across the sheet and coiling her muscles again. Sparks seemed to light up every abused zone in her nervous system—sizzling and popping. Climax galloped toward her again.
She wasn’t sure she’d survive this one.
Grant pumped into her, his own control slipping as his thighs slapped against the back of hers. “Come with me one more time, Charli.”
That was all it took. She was sailing over again, gentle tremors rolling over her exhausted body, a quiet fall into oblivion. Her tears dampened the sheet, and Grant’s own moan rattled out of him, his hot release jetting into her and his fingers lacing with hers.
Lost. Together. Perfect.
Finally, when she drifted back into the present, became aware of her surroundings again, Grant slipped out of her, untied her ankles, and carried her into the bathroom.
No words were exchanged as he drew her bath and then gently cleaned her—washing her hair and soothing her tender skin, combing out her knots and slipping her into a soft cotton nightgown. His quiet care allowed her mind to slowly pull itself back together, to ease to the surface again.
When they finally climbed into his bed—no, their bed—Grant gathered her against him and pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. “I love you, Charli Beaumonde. Nothing in my life has ever felt as right as you do.”
She smiled, closing her eyes and snuggling against him. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she didn’t have to worry about being second best. She was happy.
She was his.
Keep reading for a special preview of
NOT UNTIL YOU
a serial eBookfrom Roni Loren, available Spring 2013
“Andre, this isn’t a good time. Can I call you back?”
Marcela did her best not to let her cell phone slip from between her ear and shoulder. Just don’t drop the tequila. She adjusted the enormous bottle her fellow classmate had given her as a graduation present from her right hand to beneath her left arm and tried to dig her keys out of her purse so she could open the main door to her apartment building.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to make it,” her older brother said, his guilt obviously trumping her request to call him later. “I got caught at an investigation site. I thought I’d be able to get there in time, but we had a witness wanting to talk and…”
She cursed silently as her keys hit the pavement. She crouched down, doing her best not to flash her underwear to anyone who may be passing by. “Really, it’s fine. They called my name. I walked across the stage and got a piece of paper and a sash for being summa cum laude. Dad yelled my name like he was at a baseball game instead of a ceremony. Not that interesting.”
Her brother’s heavy sigh said everything. She almost felt guilty that he felt so guilty. “Before you move back home next month, we’re getting together to celebrate. My baby sister, the doctor. I’m so proud I could burst.”
Cela smiled. She did like the sound of that. Dr. Marcela Medina, Doctor of Veterinary Medicine. Seven years of exams and studying and clinics, but it was finally done. Now it was time to leave Dallas and head back home to Verde Pass and take up the slack in her dad’s practice.
That last part had her smile faltering a bit. She hooked her key ring with her finger and wobbled back to a stand. “That sounds great. But I really have to get going. I have my hands full and need to get through the door.”
“Cela, you know better than to carry too much. Parking lots at night are one of the most dangerous places for women. Are you holding your mace?” he asked, his voice going into that bossy cop tone she was all too familiar with.
“It’s in my hand,” she lied, trying to remember where she’d stowed the last little canister he’d given her—probably in her junk drawer. “But I don’t have a free hand to pull the door open.”
“All right,” he said, placated. “Congratulations again. I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
The phone call ended but she didn’t have a way to take the phone off her ear, so she just shuffled forward in a sideways hunch, trying to juggle everything she was holding to get her key into the door. After two attempts, she got the lock turned and pressed her back against the glass door to push her way into the lobby.
As soon as she’d cleared the entrance and turned toward the stairs, male voices sounded behind her. Of course someone would show up right after she didn’t need help anymore. She peeked back to see who it was, Andre’s danger warnings still echoing in her head, but found something more distracting than criminals—her neighbors, Ian and Pike.
Ian stepped through the main door first and glanced her way. As usual, everything went melty inside her, his smile like a zap of heat to her system. “Need some help, neighbor?”
She straightened, but forgot about her phone in the process. Her brand-new iPhone went sliding off her shoulder.
“Crap!” She lurched forward, trying to save it from its imminent demise, dropping her plastic bag of Chinese takeout on the way.
“Whoa, there.” Pike, Ian’s roommate, was at her side in a second. His hand caught her elbow, saving her from losing the ginormous bottle of liquor along with her balance. But her phone clattered to the ground, the harsh sound mixing with the splat of her noodles hitting tile.
She winced, anticipating a broken screen. “Dammit.”
Ian bent down, his tie brushing the ground as he swept her phone off the floor. He peered at the screen, dark brows lowering over pale eyes, then he turned the phone toward her—the happy puppy screen saver staring back at her intact. “All is well. Luckily these things are built to take a licking.”
Her brain got snagged on the work lick, and the back of her neck went hot. Her lips parted, but words failed her.
Pike cleared his throat, easing the tequila from her arms, and then crouched down near the open bag at her feet. He grabbed a noodle from the spilled box of Chinese food, tipped his head back and dropped it into his mouth, his eyes watching hers. “The lo mein’s a loss, though.”
She swallowed hard, his gaze even more bad boy than the tattoos peeking out from his open collar. Look away. She forced her face upward, but then ended up focusing on Ian again. Say something. God, she was standing there like an idiot. This was why she always avoided these two like they were contagious. They made her go stupid.
Ian held out her phone, and she managed to take it, the slight brush of his fingers against her hitting the reset button on her brain. She managed a feeble, “Thank you.”
Ian glanced at the mess on the floor. “I’m really sorry I said anything. I didn’t mean to distract you from your intricate juggling act.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have been trying to carry everything at once. It’s been a long day, and I was hoping to save myself a second trip up the stairs.”
“The joys of a walk-up.” Pike grabbed a few napkins and started cleaning up the noodles at her feet like it was his mess to worry about.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” She lowered herself to her knees. “I’ll take care of it.”
He grinned over at her, the mirror opposite of his roommate. Ian was all suits and dark looks, whereas Pike was a drummer in some local band—jeans, a sex-on-the-rocks smile, and spiked, bleached hair his usual uniform. Not that Cela had studied either of them. Or listened to their escapades through the wall she shared with them. Not at all.
Keep telling yourself that, Cela.
Despite her protest, Pike helped her finish picking up the mess. “So what’s the big-ass bottle of tequila for, doll? No one could’ve had that bad of a day.”
She glanced over at the bottle he’d set on the floor, debated whether she could be trusted to have a normal conversation with these two without sounding like she had a speech impediment. “I, uh, graduated today. It was a gift.”
“Oh, right on.”
“Congratulations, Cela,” Ian said, dragging her attention upward. Just the sound of him saying her name in that smooth Texas drawl had her stomach clenching.
Ay dios mio. Her body clamored to attention like an eager labrador ready to be petted. Down, girl. These guys were way above her pay grade. She’d seen the women who’d passed through their apartment door—women who looked like they’d earned their doctorates in the art of seduction.
Cela hadn’t even reached the kindergarten level in that particular department.
“Thank you.”
“You were going to vet school at Dallas U., right?” Ian had tucked his hands in the pockets of his slacks, and though the question was casual, she had the distinct impression he was tense beneath that suit jacket.
Pike handed her a napkin for her hands and stood to toss the food into a nearby trash can.
She wiped off her hands and pushed herself to her feet, trying to do it as gracefully as possible in her restrictive skirt. “Yes, how’d you know that?”
“The scrubs you wear have the school insignia on them,” Ian said, as if it was totally normal that he’d looked at her that closely.
“Observant.” Especially considering she usually only managed a head-down, mumbled hey-how-are-ya exchange when they passed each other in the hallway. Secretly listening to one of your hot neighbors having sex had a way of making eye contact a bit uncomfortable the next day—particularly if said eavesdropper had used the sound track to fuel her own interlude with her battery-operated boyfriend.
Pike sidled up next to Ian—a motley pair if there ever was one. “So, Doc, now that you’ve got no dinner and clearly too much liquor on your hands, why don’t you join us? We already have pizza on the way and we can play a drinking game with the tequila. Do college kids still play Never Have I Ever? I was always good at that one.”
Kid? Is that what they saw her as? She knew neither of them could be that much older than she was. Though in terms of life experience, she had no doubt they trumped her a few times over.
“Oh, no, that’s okay.” The refusal was automatic, long practiced. How many times had she turned down such offers—from guys, from friends? Her parents had been so strict regarding her whereabouts when she was younger that she almost didn’t know how to say yes even after living on her own the last four years. Studies first, fun later. Yet there never seemed to be any time for fun after the first one was finished.
“You sure? I don’t want you going to bed with no dinner because of us,” Ian said, frown lines marring that perfect mouth of his.
Going to bed and us was about all she heard. Her father’s stern voice whispered in her ears. You don’t know these men. You’ll be all alone in their apartment. Medina women have more respect for themselves than that.
“Really, I’m fine,” she said, her smile brief, plastic. “But thanks.”
“Oh, come on,” Pike said, his tone cajoling. “We’ve been neighbors for what, two years? We should at least get to know a little about each other.”
Get to know each other? She knew that Ian was loud when he came—even if he was alone. Knew that Pike liked to laugh during sex. Knew the two men shared women. And the other sounds she’d heard over the last two years…the smacks, the orders, the erotic screams. Her face went as hot as if she’d stuck her head in an oven.
“Y’all just want me for my tequila,” she said, attempting to deflect her derailing thoughts.
The corner of Pike’s mouth lifted. “Of course that’s not all we want you for.”
Oh, hell. Pictures flashed across her brain. Dirty, delicious pictures. She almost dropped her phone again. She had no idea what to do with her hands, her expression.
Ian put a hand on Pike’s shoulder. “The lady said no. I think we should let her go celebrate her graduation however she wants.”
“All right.” Pike’s face turned hangdog, but he handed the tequila bottle to her. “If you change your mind, we’ve got big plans. Supreme pizza and a Star Wars–themed porn marathon. The Empire Sucks C—”
Ian smacked the back of Pike’s head, and Pike ducked and laughed.
“Kidding. I mean a Jane Austen marathon,” Pike corrected, his green-gold eyes solemn. “Pride and Pu—”
Ian was behind Pike, his hand clamping over his friend’s mouth in a flash. “I seriously can’t take him out. He’s like an untrained puppy. Maybe you can lend me a shock collar or something.”
Pike waggled his eyebrows, all playful wickedness.
She laughed, putting her hand to her too-hot forehead, and turning toward the stairs. “Yeah, so, I’m going to go now.”
“Cela,” Ian said as she put her foot onto the first step.
She glanced back. “Yeah?”
His ice-melt eyes flicked downward, his gaze alighting along the length of her before tracing their way upward again. “Promise you won’t go to bed hungry.”
She wet her lips, her skin suddenly feeling too tight to accommodate the blood pumping beneath it, and nodded.
But it was a lie.
She always went to bed hungry.
And it had nothing to do with a spilled dinner.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Roni Loren wrote her first romance novel at age fifteen when she discovered writing about boys was way easier than actually talking to them. Since then, her flirting skills haven’t improved, but she likes to think her storytelling ability has. Though she’ll forever be a New Orleans girl at heart, she now lives in Dallas with her husband and son. If she’s not working on her latest sexy story, you can find her reading, watching reality television, or indulging in her unhealthy addiction to rock stars, er, rock concerts. Yeah, that’s it. Visit her website: www.roniloren.com.
Titles by Roni Loren
CRASH INTO YOU
MELT INTO YOU
FALL INTO YOU
Specials
STILL INTO YOU