RIAN
I’m floating on a cloud. A warm cloud. A very cozy, warm cloud that smells deliciously of aftershave.
I open my eyes and remember that I’m not in my own bedroom. But then I realize I’m also not in the bedroom of the beach house rental either. It takes about three seconds for all the pieces to fit together. And then memories of last night slam into me; sex on the beach, the sand fleas, the bath, talking, his bed, a rubdown that did not include sex, and then sleep, blissful, blissful sleep.
I’m using Pierce’s arm as a pillow. Slowly I turn my head to the right. The sheets hang low on his hips, his hand is under the covers, possibly cradling his junk.
I can’t believe I stayed the night. I can’t believe he was actually serious about the post-sex cuddling. Or that it appears it lasted through the entire night.
I check the clock on the nightstand. It’s already eleven thirty. I haven’t slept this late since I was a teenager.
“Morning.” Pierce’s deep, raspy sleep voice draws my gaze back to him. His one visible eye is barely a slit.
“Hi.” My stomach twists a little, uncertain as to how this is going to go.
He smirks, tongue peeking out as he wets his lips. “I cuddled the fuck out of you all night.”
I laugh. “That you did.”
“You know what that means, don’t you?” He wraps his arm around me and pulls me closer. “It means we’re dating.”
I tip my chin up so I can see his face. His hair is a mess and he has pillow lines on his cheek. “How do you figure?”
“We had a sleepover and we spooned pretty much the entire night. Plus, we had a bath together, and I’ve taken care of you and all your bug bites, so that totally qualifies as dating behavior.”
I settle a palm on his chest and feel the steady thump of his heart. I’m surprisingly not freaked out by this thought. “I suppose that makes logical sense.”
His sleep-heavy eyes crinkle at the corners. “So you agree that we’re dating?”
“You didn’t really give me much of an opportunity to disagree, did you?”
“Since when does that stop you?” His lips meet my temple. “You know what we should do to celebrate this milestone in our relationship?”
“What’s that?” I throw my leg over his, fully expecting him to say morning sex.
“We should have Naked Sunday.”
“Naked Sunday?”
“Yeah. You know, where we spend the day hanging out naked.”
“Is this something you do often?” I imagine spending an entire twenty-four hours sans clothing with Pierce. I can’t imagine getting anything accomplished, apart from wearing out my vagina with whatever parts of his body he felt like sticking in there.
“No. I’ve never actually done it before, but I figured it could be our thing.”
“Our thing?”
“Yeah, you know, like the thing we do together, just us. On Sundays. We can make it a weekly standing date from here on.” He nods, maybe to himself, like this is the best idea he’s ever had.
He’s adorably persistent. “Except you don’t live alone and as much as I don’t mind looking at you naked, I’m not so sure I’m all that comfortable wandering around like this in front of your brother. Also, I have a lot of work to do today since my sister and I sold a house yesterday.”
“Hmm. You make a good point about my brother. We’ll postpone Naked Sunday, or we can pick an alternate day of the week. Why don’t I make you breakfast instead?”
“Oooh, I like breakfast.” My stomach growls.
“Awesome.” He pats my tummy. “It’s settled. I need coffee, how about you?”
“Um, sure?”
Pierce finds some of his sister’s clothes in the spare bedroom. Nothing says walk of shame like eating breakfast in last night’s dress.
I’m relieved that Lawson doesn’t appear to be awake yet. Or if he is, he’s not hanging around the kitchen to witness the morning after my beach romp with Pierce. I take a seat at the island, while Pierce makes coffee and then checks the contents of the fridge. “I can make pancakes, waffles, or French toast. Oh, wait. I have cinnamon rolls. I can make cinnamon roll French toast.”
“That sounds ridiculously unhealthy.”
“We probably burned a thousand calories apiece competing for orgasms on the beach last night. I’m pretty sure unhealthy is acceptable.”
“Cinnamon roll French toast it is, then.” Pierce has just started cracking eggs when the doorbell rings.
“Who stops by this early on a Sunday morning?” he grumbles.
“It’s already noon.” I point out.
“Oh. Still. This is our time, and someone is rudely interfering. I’ll go tell them to shove off, shall I?”
I can’t tell if he’s serious or not as he tosses a dishtowel on the island and heads for the door.
“Took you long enough!” The female voice makes me bristle, until I realize it’s familiar.
“Uh, not that it isn’t nice to see you guys, but what are you doing here?” Pierce runs a hand through his hair and gives me an I have no idea what’s going on look.
“Law invited us. He said you got the house you were after and that we should come by for lunch.” Amalie waltzes into the kitchen, looking fabulously flawless in contrast to my appearance. Her blond hair falls in perfect waves over her shoulders. She’s wearing a butter-yellow sundress and has a huge orange beach bag slung over her shoulder. Her nails boast a French manicure. She exudes polish and poise. And I exude last night’s sex on the beach.
I’m sure my expression is electroshock-like. I can feel exactly how wide my eyes are and I’m gripping the counter in order to keep me from doing something rash—like bolting.
I glance frantically over her shoulder at Pierce, giving him a what in the actual heck look. Because I’m covered in bug bites, wearing her borrowed clothes, after having been screwed six ways from Sunday by her brother.
A wide grin breaks across Amalie’s face and she does jazz hands. “Oh my God!” She turns to her brother. “I was so right!” Then she turns to another man. One I hadn’t noticed until now, although I’m not exactly sure how I missed him, considering he looks like a cross between a model, a mobster, and a superhero. “Remember how I told you about that woman who gave Pierce shit at the restaurant? This is her! This is Rian!”
The man in question has dark hair, almost black, and eyes so blue they look like they can’t possibly be that color naturally. What is it with these guys and their eyes?
He’s as tall as Pierce, and just as broad. Maybe even a little broader. Built like a linebacker. He’s wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a T-shirt that shows off a very intricate, colorful full-sleeve tattoo.
His eerily perfect blue eyes dart questioningly to Pierce and settle on me as his eyebrow quirks up. A small smirk pops a dimple in his left cheek, and he lifts a hand in greeting. “Hi, Rian.”
“This is my fiancé, Lex.” Amalie rests her cheek on his bicep and pats his chest then flits around the island and pulls me into a hug. “I had no idea you were going to be here today! I’m so excited to see you! I told Pierce he should ask you out and here you are.” She cocks her head to the side as she takes in my outfit, her teeth catching her bottom lip. “I think I have a shirt exactly like this.”
I close my eyes and will myself to sink into the floor, but when I open them, I’m still sitting on the stool and she’s put two and two together. “Oh my God!” She claps her hands. “Oh my God! Did you two”—she looks back and forth between us—“Oh! Look at how red your face is! You so did! Are you two dating now? Can we do double dates?” She’s back to clapping. “This means you might actually have a plus-one by the time we set a date for the wedding!”
“Amie, baby, you’re scaring her,” Lex says, but he looks highly entertained. He turns that panty-incinerating smile on me. “You probably shouldn’t give my fiancée your phone number. She’s a little obsessed with you, if you couldn’t already tell.”
“She’s not alone,” Pierce says from the other side of the kitchen, a warm smile locked firmly in place.
I’m not sure what exactly I’ve gotten myself into, but I think I might like it.