I pretty much chugged the whole bottle of water I had stored in my small garage fridge. I hadn’t planned on drinking as much as I had, but one beer led to six. Which led to ten, and there I was: kind of drunk.
I didn’t know what I was thinking having her come over after I’d had so much, but impulsively I’d invited her. She’d been on my mind all fucking day.
When I got to the gym earlier, Nolan told me I’d just missed her. Little did he know.
Of course, he drilled me with questions about the night before, but I kept my mouth shut telling him I ended up going to Waffle House, and that seemed to placate him.
I’d wanted to bring her home with me so fucking bad the night before. She’d been sending me serious signals the whole time we were together.
It was fucking hard to resist that woman. Her hair. Her skin. Need I remind you of my fascination with her lips, which, by the way, felt even better than they looked?
Going back to her place was a risky move since I was hell bent on not sleeping with her, but I wasn’t very good at telling her no. It had only been by the grace of God that I didn’t take things farther than they’d went.
The burden I’d have to bear was knowing what she looked like when she came.
Jesus. H. Orgasm.
As I waited for Jared’s yellow cab to pull into my driveway, I wondered if—like her lips—feeling her orgasm would be so much better than just observing it.
I knew the answer.
It was undeniable; we had serious chemistry.
I screwed the lid on the empty plastic bottle and tossed it into the trash can across the room, making it in without it even touching the rim. That only happens when you’re alone. Figures.
I hoped that luck would aid me with my newest problem. Now that she was coming over, and my desire for her was only stronger, how was I going to keep my hands off her this time?
I’d fooled myself into thinking I could, but knew better. Especially, if she was as flirtatious as she was the night before.
I might have my work cut out for me, but something told me it was going to be fun either way. She had this magnetic spark about her.
I was done changing the oil in the bike like I’d been shown. Trust me, I’d love to say I was some macho man who instinctually knew about bikes, but I wasn’t. I was a dude who grew up with a single mom and knew more about baking than grease and tools.
Sure, I was a guy’s guy, but I still had to use YouTube to make sure I didn’t fuck up the oil change.
Good thing I was a better rider than mechanic, I thought, as I saw lights coming down the street.
I’d asked Jared not to let Dana pay when he dropped her off, and he knew I would make it up to him the next time. When they pulled into my drive, I walked to the open door of my garage to greet her.
“Are you serious?” she scolded as she got out. “At least let me tip you.”
I couldn’t hear what he was saying or see him because of his headlights, but it sounded like he was making good on his word to me.
“Fine. Whatever, but now I have your card, and I’m not afraid to use it.” She laughed and shut the door.
From what I could tell, Dana hadn’t changed out of what she’d been wearing in the picture she’d sent, only adding a zip-up sweatshirt to her ensemble. It had been a warm day, but since it was dark, the temperature had dropped.
She noticed me standing there and gave me a wave as she walked away from Jared’s retreating taxi. Over her shoulder crossways was a cloth bag that hung loosely draped across her body. Glasses. Messy bun thing. Baggy sweats that somehow made her top half look even more petite. Adorably crooked smile.
Yes, inviting her over had been a very dangerous move. We hadn’t even spoken yet, and already I knew I’d take this version of her any time. Then again, I was hard pressed to think of a time that the sight of her hadn’t created a visceral, but totally positive reaction with me.
“That’s your hog?” she jested as she walked toward me, her flip-flops slapping her feet with each swaying step.
My attempt to keep the laugh out of my voice failed when I answered, “That’s the hog, all right.”
She covered her mouth as she giggled, and her eyes left mine to check out the machine as she approached it. “It’s really pretty.” She reached out to run her finger over the matte black fender but looked my way for permission first before she touched it.
I nodded that it was okay and stood beside her. By chance, I happened to see down into her bag. It didn’t have a zipper on it, and it wasn’t like I was trying to snoop, but it was open, resting against her hip.
Trojan. I couldn’t help it, but I looked away. It was probably a normal thing for a single woman in her twenties to have in her bag, and just because a woman has a condom with her doesn’t mean anything. Not a damn thing, other than she’s smart.
What should have been more alarming was the whole bottle of wine she’d easily fit in there.
Wine and condoms and Dana.
I needed another bottle of water.
If, by some fatal flaw in my self-control we were to have sex, I didn’t want to disappoint her because I’d drank too much. Especially, not our first time.
No. Cord, you’re not going to let that happen.
I cracked my neck to release the tension that was starting to pull at my muscles. “I was just about to close up the garage and go in.”
Her head moved from side to side as she examined the space around her.
“This reminds me of my dad’s garage. He has a motorcycle too. He didn’t ride much when I was growing up, but he and his girlfriend take trips on the bike all the time now.” Her glassy blue eyes wrinkled in the corners when her gaze stopped at a spot on the wall.
Fuck. My dirty girl calendar.
It was only a coincidence, but the woman who graced the month of May, which I’d only that evening turned it to, just happened to be a beautifully busty redhead on all fours perched on top of the hood of a silver 1970 Chevelle. Of course, she would notice that.
We shared a look, but she didn’t give me any shit other than whispering the word busted before she winked. What she didn’t know was I’d already replaced that poor man’s Dana with the real thing in my head, but another awkward boner wasn’t in my best interest.
“Let’s go in,” I said and reached for her.
With her small hand in mine, she let me walk her to the door at the side of the garage. I flipped off the lights and pressed the button for the overhead door to lower. Holding the side door for her with my free hand, I followed her through it onto the paved walkway.
“I’m surprised you’re home tonight. Nolan kind of made it sound like you go out a lot.” Her tone wasn’t accusatory, but I wanted to strangle Nolan.
What the fuck had he said to her? If I asked him about it, he’d only want to know why and how I knew. The situation was bullshit.
Honesty was the best policy, but I wasn’t about to tell her that I’d had her on my mind all day and that I wasn’t going to find anyone I wanted to spend time with more than her at the bars.
This I knew was fact because Nolan, the motherfucker, was right—I went out a lot.
“Just felt like staying home, I guess.” I opened the storm door and stepped back so she could walk into the kitchen first. “Why aren’t you out?”
“I don’t know. Didn’t sound very good. You know?” I liked when she spoke candidly like that. Aside from the provocative things she usually said—which I appreciated for completely different reasons—I liked when she was just relaxed better. When she wasn’t putting on a facade.
The can lights were on, and she tugged the bag over her head as she strolled around the large island the kitchen surrounded. After her quick inspection, she returned her focus to me and pulled the bottle of wine from her bag by the neck.
“Do you have a glass I can use? I’m not above drinking from the bottle, but I should probably only have another small glass or so. When I drink from the bottle, I tend to drink the bottle.” She swayed again, and her head fell to one side making her look delectable. “Stemless if you have it, I don’t want to make a mess.”
I didn’t have stemless wine glasses—yet, but I’d be looking into them if those were what she liked. In the meantime, I had a juice glass that would probably do just the same, and I pulled one from a cabinet near the sink.
“Will this work?”
“Oh yeah, that’s perfect.” She laughed and reached for it. Gingerly sitting it down in front of her, she carefully opened her bottle and poured a conservative glass.
I watched like I’d never seen anyone do that before. She was fascinating.
I hopped up on the counter narrowly missing the pendant light above my head. Those suckers hurt; I’d banged my head on them before. My kitchen had five barstools and was located right next to my dining room, which had eight more chairs. Yet, I usually found myself taking a seat on the marble island.
She leaned against the counter opposite me and sipped her wine. Meanwhile, I mentally willed the zipper on her light jacket to magically lower.
“Aren’t you going to drink?” she asked.
If she was too drunk, there was no way in hell I’d ever make a move on her. Furthermore, if I was too drunk, I’d never make a move on her either. So drinking more might have been my best option. The safest option.
“Yeah,” I answered.
As I started to hop off the counter, she stopped me from getting down with a quick pat of her hand on my knee. “I can get it for you.”
When I yielded to her touch, she walked over to the refrigerator and opened it, quickly finding the beer inside.
In that moment, I found a brand-new fetish. Dana Rogers’ ass in those purple pants. Perky and round, it filled out the back of her sweats perfectly like they were made for only her.
God, thank you for purple.
Setting her glass on the counter, she tried to twist the cap off the KC Pils, a hometown brew I liked.
“They switched to pop off,” I informed her. “A few years ago, actually.”
I heard her go, “Huh,” as she opened the drawer right next to the fridge and pulled out my opener like she’d been there before. “Nailed it,” she confirmed, holding it in the air.
Proud of herself, she turned around and handed me the bottle, then opened the pantry on the other side of the fridge and tossed the cap in the trash.
How in the fuck did she know my kitchen so well?
“How’d you know that was there?”
She laughed and admitted. “I didn’t. Lucky guess.”
“I’ll say.” I looked around. “Do you have cameras up in here or something?”
“No. That’s just where I’d put them, too.” She chuckled and brought her glass to the island where she tried to hop up. After three failed attempts, and a louder, even sweeter laugh at her misfortune, I got down to help her.
Simultaneously, her hands lifted her weight as I embraced her by the hips. Actually, I didn’t lift her at all, and I questioned whether she’d been faking the inability to do it on her own in the first place. The vixen.
“Oh, you’re good,” I accused. Her legs wrapped around my hips, and with her perched high on the counter, we were nearly eye to eye. “You didn’t need any help.”
She looked guilty and laughed again. “I needed a little help.”
It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate her attention. Trust me—and the boner I already had—I did. But why was it when she acted like that did it not feel entirely genuine? It was almost like she was pushing herself, rushing things along.
The beer made me brave. “Do you like me or are you just trying to use me for sex?”
Most of the playfulness drained from her face, and her eyes met mine. “The truth?”
Well, shit. Did I want the truth? I couldn’t unring the bell though.
“Yeah.”
Dana didn’t answer right away, and her big eyes danced from right to left and back, gazing deep into mine. She inhaled, and her chest swelled as a result.
She confessed, “Maybe a little of both.”
I supposed that wasn’t the worst answer, but it sure didn’t feel like the best one either.
“I think you’re a nice guy, and I like you, but I’m not interested in a relationship or anything. But …” Her cheeks turned a little pink, and she licked those fucking gorgeous lips. “You’re really sexy, and I bet you’d be really good in bed.”
She wasn’t interested in a relationship? Not that I was in a position to start one, considering I’d given Reub my word that I wouldn’t.
I wasn’t some manwhore though. Had I given her that impression?
Shit. Had fuckface Nolan?
Admittedly, the second part of her answer was much easier to swallow. She thought I was sexy and had confidence in my sexual ability. What man doesn’t want to hear that?
Sadly, being the man I was, I let myself focus on that part. I couldn’t help it.
I bet she’d be incredible too, and I was dying to find out.
But like that? Drunk?
It felt like such a booty call. I’d made those calls in my younger years, and in return, I’d received a few, but the women I’d had those kinds of relationships with weren’t like her. I neither wanted anything more with them, nor them with me.
The thought of having something like that with Dana, something only physical, sucked.
At the same time, I didn’t want to reject her. Not even a little. I was dying to touch and kiss and wander my way around her body, but I wasn’t in a rush to do it.
Take your time, Cord.
“Why don’t we hangout for a while. Have these drinks and come back to this later?”
Best worst-case scenario in history: I’d get her off again with my hand. God knew I couldn’t tempt myself by doing it with my mouth. It would be too much. It would kill me.
“You don’t want to?” Luckily, she didn’t sound insecure or dejected.
“That’s not it. I do want to, but that’s not all I’m after.”
Her posture sank. “I told you, you don’t have to feed me all this stuff, Cord. We’re adults.”
I’d all but spoiled the mood, but at least we were talking, and that was fine with me. I pulled away, climbed onto the counter next to her, and relaxed back like I did when I watched games on the television above my fridge.
After a long drink, I held my weight on my arms behind me. Curiosity got the best of me. “Dana, don’t take this the wrong way, but why do you say stuff like that? What kind of guys have you dated?”
She scooted back, kicked off her flip flops, and then crossed her legs, facing me. Being so short, she was in no danger of hitting the metal pendant above her.
“Oh, I’ve dated some winners—let me tell you—but it’s not really about them. I’m comfortable with who I am, and I just know what I want.” She stared off somewhere in front of me and slowly took another drink. “I’m getting too old for the bullshit. Why not just call things what they are?”
I liked her honesty, but it seemed jaded. Like she was being honest with me, but I hoped she was somehow lying to herself.
“Why are you still single if you don’t like this lifestyle so much?” she challenged, which was a valid point.
“I don’t know. I guess I haven’t found the right woman for me yet.” I leaned up and took another drink and my shoulder popped loudly.
“Ouch,” she cried. “Did that hurt?”
“No. It does that all the time.” I stretched and rotated my arm to work out the catch in my joint.
She grimaced, and then said, “My knees do that. I can’t do squats without sounding like a bowl of Rice Krispies. I played volleyball in high school. So I think that’s some of it. Did you play sports?”
“Baseball and basketball.”
“I bet you were awesome since you’re so tall.”
“I was taller than most guys, but I actually grew a lot my senior year. I liked baseball more anyway though. You graduated in Colby? That’s where you said you’d lived last night, right?”
After she took a sip, she answered, “Yeah, my dad still lives there. Mom met Ted online when I was a junior, but she didn’t move here until after I graduated. What about you?”
“Lenox, born and raised. Reuben and Nolan, too. Is Jodi you’re step-sister then?”
“Yeah, my mom and her dad married, but we’ve been close since day one. It was easy because we were about the same age and everything. So when things got serious with our parents—they’d visit us, and we’d drive here to see them. Jodi and I just hit it off. She gets along great with my mom, too. Her dad’s a widower, so there wasn’t that parental competition type thing. If that makes any sense.”
It kind of did. Reuben’s family was always pulling that stuff. His dad hated his step-dad, and that always put Reuben in the middle. “Do you visit your dad in Colby much?” I asked, taking advantage of the way she was being open.
“Not as much as I should, but he has Angela now which makes me happy. Even though they’re divorced, my parents get along great. They’re still really close friends.” She smiled, her elbows rested on her knees. “Here’s something a little weird. Jodi loves my dad too. She calls him Uncle Denny.”
It was a sight to see her talking about her family, and that made me happy. I loved my mom. We were close. It was easy to relate to Dana when we talked about the people we cared about.
“If you’re from Colby—that’s close to Colorado, right?”
“Yep.”
“Then are you a Royals fan or not?” If you lived around Kansas City, it was almost a requirement that you loved the Royals.
“I don’t really care for baseball that much.” She frowned, anticipating my reaction.
“I guess it could be worse,” I replied and sat up, which brought our faces closer. I loved the way she smelled and before I continued I savored the fresh scent that found my nose. “You could like the White Sox or the Cardinals or something, so you’re not hopeless. You just don’t know what you’re missing yet.”
“I don’t?” Her blue eyes sparkled like water, glassy and translucent. She blinked lazily. Her lips, which I never neglected to study, were stained dark by the red wine, but no less irresistible.
“Nope. And it’s my civic duty, as a KC local, to show you the way home.”
“So hospitable.” She smiled. “What’s that tattoo on your shoulder? I saw part of it at the gym.”
I lifted the short sleeve on my left arm, and then decided to lift my whole shirt so she could see the portion on my back too. “Um. It starts on my shoulder and covers a lot of my back.” She studied, carefully leaning in to see the detail on my upper arm. “This is one of the J.C. Nichols fountain horsemen. It pretty much takes up this whole area.” I turned on the counter to show her the lion’s share of where the ink was.
“Whoa,” she whispered. “I had no idea. Don’t move. Let me look.” As she marveled the art, I watched her over my shoulder.
I wasn’t sure she’d notice, not being from the city. “They’re all KC fountains. My mom loves them, so it’s kind of a nod to her.”
“It’s amazing.”
Her finger touched the middle, and I named off the fountains as she toured my skin, point by point. “Neptune and his chariot, one of Bacchus’s nymphs, the lion’s heads, the boy doing a handstand from the Children’s Fountain, the good luck boar.”
I let her take her time, and when she pulled away, I threw the shirt back over my head, pulled it down, and returned to my spot facing her, but we were closer than we were before.
“Do you have any?” I asked, almost hoping she didn’t, but I wasn’t sure why. It was her skin to do with as she liked.
She shook her head, a red plume of hair waving as she did. “No, I’ve always wanted one, but I can never find anything I like.”
“Yeah, it’s best to be sure.”
The lingering sensation of her finger on my back had me itching to touch her, to reciprocate. Fair was fair.
But where? Her leg? Her hands, laced together in front of her? Her blush-colored porcelain cheek? Could I dare run my thumb over her sweet lip?
We were quiet for a while, searching one another’s faces, and I suspected she knew I was planning my move, but she patiently waited, which was seductive all by itself.
I loved what her being forward with her attraction to me did for my ego, but when she was vulnerable, and all the layers of her armor were shed, she was sensational. It was getting harder to remind myself why I couldn’t sweep her up in my arms and take her to my bedroom.
Poor, drunken performance be damned.
Before I made my mind up completely, my mouth moved in on hers then veered off course finding her neck instead. She leaned into it and nearly knocked her wine glass off the counter when she tried to steady herself.
It was brief. A quick taste, then I moved back.
“May I use your bathroom?” Her voice was low and breathy. I enjoyed having that effect on her and adored how she didn’t jump at the opportunity for more. How she was letting me lead.
Problem was, if she kept doing that? Well fuck. I’d be a goner. I wouldn’t be able to resist.
“I’ll show you where it’s at,” I said and hopped off the counter, holding my hand out for her to take.
Dana looked at it and gently swayed. She’d had too much to drink.
After studying my palm, she put her hand in it and let me steady her as she climbed off the top of my island.
“Thanks. I love your kitchen,” she said when we were nearly to the dining area. Then she turned around, like she’d left something. That didn’t last long though, because only a second later she waved at whatever it was and said, “Fuck it.”
Beautiful girls swearing was a real weakness of mine. Hearing the word fuck from her lovely mouth was like the combination of salty and sweet. Sinfully delicious.
I pointed to a few of the other areas the kitchen opened up to. “Straight ahead is the dining room, living room, my office off to the left near the front door.”
She squeezed my hand, and I looked down at her, then pointed over her left shoulder. “There’s a half bath and a spare bedroom down that hall, up those stairs there’s two more bedrooms and a full bath.” She followed my voice and hand in the direction of each place I mentioned.
Dana looked past me to our right, down the hall to my room.
“What’s that way?”
I cleared my throat. “My bedroom.”
“Does it have a bathroom?”
I nodded.
Then she walked that direction, pulling me behind her.
I wanted to sleep with her. For clarity’s sake, I mean I wanted to have sex with her.
But if I did I’d be breaking my word to Reuben, not that I wasn’t already. Plus, she’d had quite a bit to drink, and I didn’t want to take advantage of that. Not to mention my own intoxication. I didn’t want to disappoint her, especially our first time.
All those things motivated me not to. They were all practical reasons for me to show her where the bathroom was, and then turn around and leave my room.
She’d find her way back to me in the kitchen, which in my mind was the least risky room to be—never mind the naughty vision I’d already had of her naked on my island. The living room was a viable option, but considering what had happened the night before in hers, that wasn’t any safer than my bed.
There was only one full-sized door down the hall to the master suite, the other was a narrower door to a linen closet. Although we’d already established she was a good guesser as to where things belonged, I was sure she knew where to go.
She walked into my room and stopped. With only the dim light from the hallway illuminating the space, I walked ahead of her to the bathroom and flipped on the switch.
“There you go.” The site of her in my bedroom was potent. I shifted and fought the urge to adjust myself with her watching.
She unzipped her jacket and threw it on the bed, revealing a tight white tank top.
Make yourself at home.
It wasn’t a fair fight, and I was a weak, weak man.
Her petite frame in that form fitting shirt. Those baggy sweats with the legs drawn up on her calves. Barefoot. Hair swept up off her neck. Glasses. She looked like the most real woman I’d ever seen.
It gave me pause.
She stepped by and ran her hand flat across my stomach as she made her way around me and padded her little feet over the hardwood into my bathroom before shutting the door.
I surrendered. Because, dammit, wanting her was too fucking hard.
On a mission, I marched back to the kitchen to chug the hell out of some water and put something in my stomach. If I was going to do the wrong thing, I was going to be damn sure it was worth it. I ate a piece of fruit and had nearly a whole bottle down my throat in what I imagine was record time.
I plunged the bottle under the tap on the fridge, refilling it, and then grabbed a new one for her. After dumping out the little bit of beer remaining in my last bottle, I poured the drink or two of wine left in her glass into the sink and set the glass in the well. I picked up her tiny flip-flops, set them by the door, turned out the lights, and walked down the hall back to my room with a new frame of mind.
If I was doing this, I had to please her to the best of my ability. She had to come back for more. That was something I wasn’t willing to compromise.