CHAPTER SIX

 

RONNIE

Oh God, this is awkward. Almost as bad as that time when I was fifteen and Dad walked into the kitchen to find me in a similar position with Bobby Kimmel. No, this is worse. Because my bright-eyed niece is both intuitive and too little to understand how to keep a secret. Which means in about five minutes, my entire family will hear about how she caught Danny with his hand under my skirt. Garrett’s going to kill either me or Danny. No, definitely me. Because up until now he probably believed I had some common sense.

“Well, um...” Danny peels his hand from between my thighs and shoves it into the pocket of his shorts. “I was trying to help Auntie Ronnie find...” He glances at me for help.

“A spider.” My pulse is still racing, and I can’t get my breathing under control. It’s not all because Abby’s staring at me. It’s not all because I just orgasmed around Danny’s fingers. Which, by the way, wasn’t what I anticipated when he suggested we talk. Was it what he expected? No, I started this. I haven’t been able to put that kiss out of my head since it happened. I couldn’t keep my hands to myself. His shirt is still bunched tightly in my fist. I let it go, but the material is creased so I try to pat it flat.

“Right.” His eyes crinkle. “There was a spider.”

I shrug. It was the first thing I thought of. “It crawled up my leg and under my skirt and Uncle Danny was just trying to help me catch it.”

“Was it big?” Abby runs up to me and grabs the hem of my dress, lifting it. “Can I see? Erin doesn’t like spidees. They make her scream. But I like the way they wiggle. They’re so funny.”

I clap my hands down on the skirt of my dress before she can hike it over her head. My panties are still askew. “Um, no. It’s not there anymore.”

She turns her attention to Danny. “Did you catch it? Can I see?”

“I caught it.” He grins and winks at me.

“Show me. Show me.” Abby squeals and claps her hands while she bounces on the balls of her feet. “I want to see the spidee.”

“Sorry, Abby girl, it escaped me.” Danny glances around as though searching for it. “It’s probably around here somewhere.”

“Wait until I tell Erin about the spidee.” Abby spins around, Spot on her heels, and races around the corner as fast as her little legs will carry her.

“Dead.” I cover my face with my hands. “I am so dead. Garrett’s going to revoke my auntie privileges. I can’t believe—”

“That you did that with me?”

I drop my hands from my face to find him staring at me, his forehead between his brows bunched tight. I started it, so it makes no sense that he would assume I regret it. Although I have been avoiding him, which isn’t easy to hide when we work together, so I guess I can see the logic. Hell, up until the moment I saw him tonight I had every intention of ignoring the attraction blossoming between us. Even if I haven’t been able to get my mind off it since the kiss. I told myself I was only going to act like we were together enough to keep my mother off my back, but my reactions to him are all real. “No. That we did that here. That we got caught.”

“He did what?” Garrett’s voice booms through the open door.

“Caught a spidee up Auntie Ronnie’s skirt,” Abby sings.

“I think that’s my cue,” Danny says. “Unless you need me to stick around.”

I could go with you. We could continue where we left off. Make a night of it. Perhaps that’s all we need. Because we’re not actually dating. Then we can get back to the pleasant business of hawking him out to other women without the complication of me gritting my teeth every time I set up a new date for him. I’ve never been this involved in a guy’s life before. It’s disconcerting.

“Danny?” Garrett hollers as he moves closer. “You and I are about to have some serious words about what is not appropriate in front of my daughter.”

“Go.” I push at Danny’s shoulders. Garrett’s focused on Danny, so the rest of them will be too. It isn’t fair when I’m as much—no, more responsible. “I’ll talk him down.”

“You sure? Because I have no problem with pointing out why telling us off would be hypocritical.”

“Yes.” I push at him again. “You’ll only make things worse.”

“Kiss me first,” he says.

“We’re not dating,” I whisper, before I glide my lips over his. “You know that, right?”

“Oh, I know.” He grins, striding over to the door and opening it. “But I’m still going to use this situation to my full advantage while I can.”

He disappears, the door closing behind him. Danny’s the kind of guy who makes the best of any situation, and I don’t know if that’s good or bad. On the one hand, he has no expectations, and on the other...

“Should I assume he ducked out?” Garrett huffs as he joins me.

“Yes.”

“I don’t know what you see in him,” he says. “He’s so...”

“Adaptive? Genuine? Goal-orientated?”

Garrett stares down at me like I’m having a stroke and am saying random words like toaster, spank, blackboard. “I was going to say irritating.”

“That, too.” I rub my fingers across my lips. Like an itch that only gets worse the more you scratch it. One I don’t know how to ignore.

***

Shoes dangling from my fingers, I stumble into Garrett and Erin’s backyard. They came home a little while ago to put Abby to bed, while I had a couple of drinks with Paynt and talked website design. I didn’t tell him about Rent-A-Danny though. I’m not ready to get into the fact I’m pimping out Erin’s best friend. Especially now, while we look like we’re dating.

There was a light on in the foyer, but the backyard is dark. I could have asked them to turn a light on, I suppose, or walked through the house, but dinner was awkward enough with Abby telling the spider story over and over to anyone who would listen and Garrett glowering every time she mentioned Danny. The fact that I’m older and theoretically wiser than him somehow went unnoticed.

There are no lights on in the basement. He wasn’t expecting me. I didn’t plan on showing up at his door like I’m mooning over him. He might not even be here.

Drawing in a breath, I raise my fist and knock. I just want to talk about what happened earlier. Unless he wants to do more. Like kiss me again. Touch me. Okay, I’m so freaking horny right now. This is crazy. It’s like one stupid little kiss flipped a switch inside me. I’d managed to ignore this attraction for more than a year. Now I can’t shut it off.

There’s no movement inside. No sound of footsteps or lights turning on. I knock again just in case. He might be a heavy sleeper. He might not be alone. He might be using his free time to meet women who aren’t fake-dating him. I’m an idiot.

I turn around and pick my way through patio furniture toward the stairs. If I were him, that’s what I would be doing. And I’m here knocking on his door like this is real. Like there’s more than just some amazing chemistry between us. I’m forgetting that I don’t let things get complicated with men because I like to be in control of my own life, and giving up an inch to a guy is asking to be screwed over.

I have to cover my mouth to hold in the sarcastic laugh that threatens to bubble up. I’m a little too tipsy to be acting practically. If Danny had been home, I’d probably be getting screwed right now. Hard. Against a wall. Or the floor. And I wouldn’t even be thinking about the long-term ramifications, like what will happen with Rent-A-Danny if we continue down this path and it ends badly. For the first time in my life, my career isn’t at the mercy of a man. Well, it still kind of is because without Danny, I wouldn’t have this opportunity at all, and I have ideas about how to make Rent-A-Danny bigger than just the two of us. If I don’t wreck it first.

Pulling out my phone, I order an Uber and make my way around to the front of the house to wait the ten minutes it will take to arrive.

By the time I reach my apartment, I’m sober and tired. My phone went off three times with women begging for emergency rentals. I turned down two of them on the spot since it was pretty clear they were only after a hook-up. I sent the other one’s details to Danny, told him it was up to him if he wanted to book it. He didn’t respond. Which is fine. I’m not his keeper outside of work hours. He can do whatever he wants with his free time.

I turn down the hallway to my apartment and almost miss a step. Danny’s leaning against the wall by my door, his hands thrust in his pockets, completely nonchalant, like it’s perfectly normal for him to be waiting outside my apartment after midnight. My heart skips a beat, and the tiredness that made me long for my bed disappears. Damn. Seeing him shouldn’t put a smile on my face. It shouldn’t quicken my step.

“Took your time.” He grins. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming home.”

“I went to see you.”

His eyes widen as he stands. “You wanted to check out Danny’s Love Den?”

I roll my gaze as I locate my door key. “Calling it that isn’t reminiscent of a seventies porn film at all. There’s no way you’ll ever get me to step into your love den.”

“That’s fine with me,” he says. “Your place is better.”

I push the key into the lock and turn around. “What are you doing here anyway? You didn’t answer your phone. I sent you a job, and you didn’t respond.”

“My phone died. They really don’t make batteries strong enough to take the hours of games it requires to wait for you.” He brushes his fingers against my hip and then turns the key in the lock. “And I was waiting for you because I figured you’d come home after dinner, not go to my place, and I wanted to pick up where we left off.”

“Hunting for spiders?” My breath catches as I search out the door handle. My skin buzzes at our close proximity, and I should probably be using my head, but my brain is traipsing off to Tahiti with both suitcases packed full of images of his lips.

“Clearing the air,” he says. “Didn’t want you to stop talking to me again. Figured if you did, it would be for a hell of a lot longer this time, so I thought I’d make sure you had to talk to me.”

“That’s smart,” I say, taking his hand and dragging him across the threshold before pushing the door shut. “So thoughtful.”

“Well, we do have a business to run. It works better if we can communicate.” He wraps a big hand around my hip, and I wind my arms around his neck.

“We should definitely talk about that.” I glance from his eyes to his mouth to his chest and back again.

“Set some ground rules,” he says.

“The same for my family. I don’t want to scar my niece anymore than we managed this evening.”

Maybe we don’t need to talk about us. Not now. Not when this isn’t anything.

He crooks a finger under my chin and tilts my head back as he lowers his. My pulse is racing; my lips tingle. My hands scope out his shoulders, run down his pecs as he sweeps inside my mouth with his tongue while his hands explore the outside of my thighs and under my dress to my ass.

We move backward into the room, glued together at the lips and waist. The hard bulge of his erection bumps against my belly. I pluck the last button on his shirt undone and shove it off his shoulders. He lets me go long enough to rip it over his wrists and toss it. His gaze stays locked on me while I hike my dress over my head and let it drop to the floor.

He rubs a hand over his face and pinches his bicep. “Ouch.”

“What is it?”

“I knew I was good, but not that good.” He runs his gaze over my body and the red panties and matching bra I’m wearing. “This is like every one of my fantasies. Except you’re still wearing a bra.” He closes the distance and slides a hand around to the hooks that hold it together. “But I can rectify that.”

“One-handed. Nice,” I say while he drags the straps down my arms and runs his lips along the side of my neck. It makes me shiver and reach for the belt threaded through the loops of his khaki shorts. The buckle gives with a yank, and I pop the button and drag down the zipper.

He shoves them off his hips and they pool around his ankles, leaving us both naked except for our underwear and shoes. He kicks his off, and I bend to undo the straps on my heeled sandals.

“Leave them on,” he orders.

“Okay.” I stand up as his gaze sweeps me again. I swallow hard at the desire in his eyes. “How many times have you imagined you and I getting naked?”

“Couldn’t say.” He reaches out and grips my waist, drawing me closer. “A lot. No. What’s more than a lot?”

“Um.” I trail my fingers along the line that divides his chest, down the ridges of his abdomen. The fine trail of hair that starts at his navel is downy soft and tickles my fingers until the elastic of his boxer briefs cuts me off. “I’m not sure.”

“It doesn’t matter. This is far better.” He picks me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist. “Which way to the bedroom?”

“That way.” I point into the darkness past the living room. “Maybe I should turn on a light.”

“I’ve got this.” He kisses me as he walks farther into the apartment. “Got you.”

“Yeah, you do.” Can’t believe how many times he’s surprised me these past few weeks. He’s not as juvenile as he pretends he is. There’s more to him.

Lowering me onto the bed, he shoves clothes and decorative pillows, European and sham, out of the way. “Are you sure you have enough of these?”

Leaning on my elbows, I watch him. “Pretty sure.”

Settling on the bed, he brushes his lips against the pulse point on my wrist, works his way to my elbow, my shoulder, before doing the same to my other arm. Everywhere he touches me heat spreads, interlocks with the next point of contact, an intricate web of sensation that slowly builds on itself. I inhale sharply as he wraps his lips around my breast and gently bites my nipple. My hands hover off the bed before he covers them with his own. He pays the same attention to my other breast. Then he moves between them, nipping and sucking, before trailing down to my navel.

My body is on fire. My hips move of their own accord, begging for his touch. He ignores that area completely. Kneeling between my legs, he lifts one heeled foot onto his shoulder. Strokes a knuckle down the inside of my ankle. Plants a kiss in that same spot. Our conversation about foreplay and how he would make it last and last and last replays in my head as he kisses his way along my calf and up the inside of my knee.

My sex clenches as his mouth gets so close. The heat of his breath makes me gasp and shudder. And then he draws back and does the same to my other leg. But, surely, this time, he’ll touch me. Every muscle in my body stretches toward him in anticipation. I start to pant.

When he runs a finger along the outside of my panties, fireworks burst behind my eyelids, and I arch up off the bed with a moan. Oh God, I’m going to combust before we can get past the foreplay. And then he takes his hand away, and I’m overwhelmed with the need for more.

He grabs my thong, and I lift my hips to help him remove it before reaching for his underwear. “These too.”

“In a hurry to see what else I haven’t been joking about?”

“Oh God, yes.” I moisten my lips as I sit up. “No more foreplay.”

“Too much for you?” He climbs off the bed to shed his boxer briefs and snag a condom from the wallet in his shorts. He rips the foil packet open and rolls it over his erection.

What did he say about his dick again? It was better than a motorbike. I’ve never needed this badly to ride a motorbike before. “Not too much. I just want...”

“Got it.” He grins.

“No, I don’t think you do.” I pounce on him before he can climb back onto the bed, and we go down in a pile of limbs and kisses among the pillows. Pushing him onto his back, I straddle him.

“Easy. You can take advantage of me all you want.” He mock growls as he grips my hips with one hand and drags one of my fancy cushions under his head. His cock pulses between my legs, nudges at my entrance, slides home. I revel in the sensation and the groan that drags from his throat, the sudden tenseness in his grip, the roll of his hips.

“Actually, maybe you should...”

“Oh God,” I whisper, throwing my head back and riding him. All that build-up washes through me like a dam broke. Spots dance in front of my eyes.

“Yeah, that.” He tangles his fingers in my hair and grinds into me while I orgasm. “Feels so good.” The sinew in his neck stands out as he arches underneath me one last time. “Fuck, Ronnie.”

I collapse on top of him while the tension slowly leaves his body and his chest deflates. His heart pounds underneath my ear, lulling me half-comatose. “We should go to bed.”

He chuckles as he wraps one arm around me and sits up. “Thought you’d never ask.”

***

Danny’s not in the bedroom when I wake up, though the other half of my bed isn’t cold yet. The scent of bacon makes my mouth water and my belly growl. Not surprising. It feels like I ran a marathon last night.

The man has stamina. By the bucket load. Garrett’s always picking on him for being a slacker. Hell, it’s something Danny is happy to boast about, even when he’s put in weeks of work for each of my siblings’ weddings. And he’s worked a lot of hours since we started Rent-A-Danny too, so I’m not entirely sure where he got the idea that he’s a mooch from.

There is certainly nothing slack about his bedroom skills. I scissor my thighs together. They’re a little sore, like I’ve spent some time at the gym. It’s a nice ache, the type that reminds you that you did something fun. Something that probably won’t happen again. After all, it’s fake, isn’t it? He was doing me a favor that got out of hand. He told me we could fake break up any time I wanted. He’s only in it for the chase anyway, and after last night I won’t hold the same interest for him. And that should be peachy. But I’m not sure it’s what I want.

Climbing out of bed, I pull on a tank top and a pair of leopard-print, cotton shorts and make my way to the kitchen.

Danny’s made himself at home, standing in front of the stove in his boxer briefs, cooking breakfast. Blueberry pancakes and bacon. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

“Sit,” he says, pouring a cup of java and putting it in front of me.

I tuck one knee up on the chair and rest my chin on it while I watch him pile pancakes onto two plates. He sets one down in front of me and then pulls out a chair for himself. “Tuck in.”

“Thanks.” I cut into a pancake and pop a bite into my mouth. I don’t know what to say. About last night. Or if I even should bring it up. Maybe if we ignore it, things will go back to normal. Because that’ll work so well.

“About last night,” he says, putting down his fork and moving closer. He picks up my foot and puts it on his thigh. “Was that...were we getting the attraction out of our system so we can concentrate on being business partners?”

“That’s what it was, wasn’t it?” I chew through the soggy mouthful that’s become quite floury. “You chased me. You caught me. We can concentrate on other things.”

“We can.” He strokes his thumb in small circles on my ankle, making other parts of my anatomy wake up. “But I would rather keep doing this.”

Getting out of my seat, I straddle his lap. “Me too.”