Not anymore.
She walks over to my desk, her hips sashaying left and right, the dress she’s wearing shifting with her every move.
When she stops a few feet in front of me, I realize she’s talking to me. It takes me a moment to snap my gaze back up to hers. “Sorry. What did you say?”
“I asked if you’re mad.” There’s something in her eyes I haven’t seen a lot of before. Maybe it’s vulnerability? Uncertainty?
“Mad?” What on earth is she talking about? We’re definitely on each other’s radars today, that’s for sure. But in a weird way, misinterpreting the other’s behavior. “Why would I be mad?”
“You still haven’t said a word about the dress, and I can’t tell if you’re happy right now or not.” Her voice cracks slightly at the end, and I look up at her face and her tightly knit eyebrows before taking one of her hands to pull her closer.
My dumbfounded expression must be throwing her off.
“Trust me, Monica. I’m anything but mad. Ironically, I’m a bit at a loss for words. It’s hard to wrap my head around you standing in front of me like this. I mean, how is this even possible?” I don’t give her a chance to actually reply, the urge to see more of her outfit too strong to ignore.
“Turn around. I need to see the whole thing.” My eyes wander over her entire body, taking in every inch of her. “And do it slowly.”
The dress is made from different fabric and leather scraps, the brown and black pieces sewn together in a random crisscross pattern, with little cutouts in between to expose her soft porcelain skin. It barely covers her butt and boobs, and I have a hard time keeping my hands to myself.
She looks out-of-this-world gorgeous and couldn’t resemble the character of my new story any more if she tried. It’s incredible. Absolutely perfect.
Monica brought my new main warrior princess character to life, and she did such a realistic job of it, I’m still having a hard time believing this isn’t an illusion.
“You left your laptop open the other day in the kitchen when you went to take a shower. Your document was still pulled up on the screen when I went to the fridge and, I don’t know, I guess I was curious.” She looks down at her fingers before bringing her gaze back up to mine. “The story sucked me right in, and I was immediately fascinated by your warrior princess. I hope you don’t mind. I wasn’t trying to snoop, I promise.”
“Are you kidding me? I would never be mad at you for this.” I scrub my hand over my face, still trying to process all of this. “I mean, look at you. Hot damn, Monica. You look incredibly sexy, way sexier than I could’ve ever imagined this looking when I wrote it. Now come here already, my little warrior princess.”
Monica chuckles, which finally seems to shake off the last bit of nerves. She closes the distance between us and straddles my lap like she did that first day. Thank goodness for the big office chair.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am that you like it.” She pushes higher up on my legs until our pelvises almost meet.
“I don’t think like even begins to cover how I feel about this outfit. It must’ve taken you hours to put it together. You definitely have a hand for it though. It’s absolutely stunning.” The fabric feels soft under my touch when I slowly move my hands up her hips.
She shrugs her shoulders. “I’ve helped out with the dance costumes a lot over the years. It relaxes me.”
“Well, you can bring my fantasies to life anytime you want, I can tell you that much.” I brush a piece of hair out of her eyes, focusing on her beautiful face. “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me. This costume is actually my little thanks to you for everything you’ve done for me. You’ve been such a big help and influence in my life, not afraid to kick my butt when I needed it either. And I really appreciate that. Things wouldn’t have progressed the way they have if it wasn’t for you.”
Her words hit me hard, causing something to stir in my chest. My body doesn’t seem unaffected by her little speech and her close proximity either, and I’m sure she can feel my hard-on grow between us.
Another time, her words might have been a bad reminder of her upcoming departure, but I’m distracted enough to forget about anything but her on my lap right now.
As if she’s heard my thoughts, she presses closer, the contact making me more than just a little needy.
My arms move up her back on autopilot, pulling her all the way to my chest. “Well, let me show you exactly how much I like your little surprise.” And then I crush my lips to hers, not beneath begging her to let me have my way with her.
My tongue finds hers the second she opens her mouth. Our teeth clash occasionally, and she’s already nibbled on my lips several times, letting me know how much she’s enjoying this. Just this kiss alone is already so much wilder than anything we’ve had before. The urge and need to be with each other seems to have taken over both of our minds and bodies. Consuming our whole beings, ready to combust spontaneously.
Monica circles my pelvis with hers, the motion creating a friction that’s driving both of us crazy, if Monica’s impatient grumbles and wandering hands are anything to go by. My hands have taken on a life of their own too, touching as much of her as possible without breaking the dress.
Even though I have this inexplicable, almost animalistic desire to rip it off her, it’s just too perfect to destroy.
I still can’t believe she actually went through all the trouble of making it. It’s precisely the way I pictured it in my mind when I wrote it.
It takes the last bit of my willpower, but I carefully slide the dress up her hips.
“Should I take it off?” Her voice is breathy, revealing how much all of this is affecting her as well.
A strangled cough escapes my mouth. “Hell no. If you don’t mind keeping it on, I mean.” I can’t hold back a big grin, even though I feel slightly weird asking her this.
I’m usually not one for roleplay or any of that stuff, but this is literally a fantasy come to life.
She chuckles and shakes her head. “I was hoping for that answer, so I came prepared.” Her hands take mine, pushing them under the skirt and up her hips.
“You little minx, you. I know one thing I won’t ever buy you since you seem to forgo it anyway.” I lean forward and capture her lips for another hungry kiss while my hands keep roaming around, enjoying the pantyless area to the fullest.
A few moments later, Monica goes up onto her knees and starts pulling on my waistband. Her fingers dig into my skin, clumsy in her desperation to bring us together. “Lift up your butt.”
Well, who am I to disobey that command?
I do as she says, and my pants and boxers are down my legs two seconds later.
“Impatient, are we?” I tease, loving the little smirk I get in return.
“With you, always.”
And then, without warning, she sinks down onto me in one swift move while I try to hold on to my control that’s ready to snap.
She pauses for a moment while we both get used to the union, and we just stare at each other. The invisible connection between us tightens, pulling so strongly, it makes my head a little fuzzy.
Brushing her wild hair behind her ear, I lean in to nibble on her chin. “So beautiful, Princess.”
“I’m glad you like it, Charming.”
When I have my control back, at least partially, I slowly move my hips, not wanting this to be over too soon. “Liking it is definitely the understatement of the year. I would ravish you in it on a daily basis if I could.”
“What are you waiting for then? We don’t have forever.” Her face turns into a grimace before going back to normal.
The truth of her words hits me hard, and I make a promise to myself in that very moment.
I will try and make the most of the rest of our time together. I owe both of us that much before we go on with our separate lives soon.
Even if that’s the last thing I want to do.
Twenty-Six
Gabe
I can’t remember the last time I’ve laughed this much. It’s like a brutal ab workout, and I’m sure my stomach is going to hurt tomorrow.
But boy, is it worth it.
“Tommy, get back over here right now.” Monica is racing after the little five-year-old boy who is squealing at the top of his lungs, clearly enjoying this little impromptu game of catch to the fullest. His shaggy, dark hair is flying around his small face, and he’s sporting the biggest grin.
Contrary to what Dahlia made it sound like, this class full of bambini—preschoolers, three to five years old—has been anything but easy. I didn’t think it was possible to make that much of a mess in such a short amount of time. But here we are. Barely half an hour into the hour-long session, and I can’t believe my own two eyes.
On the other hand, what did I really expect from little kids when they’re let loose on paint?
Looks like there’s a lot I have to learn about kids.
“What on earth is going on in here?” Rose closes the door to the classroom behind her and walks over to me. She gives me a once-over before chuckling. “Nice war paint you got there.”
I haven’t looked in the mirror yet, but I’m not the least bit surprised about her comment. Looking all dirty after our morning classes is the one thing I actually did expect. I mean, over ten little kids with paint around me. What are the odds of getting away unscathed?
I shrug in response and turn back to the chaos in front of us, not wanting to miss it.
“Ah, our dearest Tommy. That boy is one hell of a troublemaker, I’m telling you. I don’t envy his parents.” She chuckles as we both track him around the room with our gazes.
After a few seconds, I take a moment to study her. My little sister with the rainbow-colored hair, a big smile on her face at the scene in front of us. That shouldn’t be a surprise though since the whole situation has Rose written all over it. “Does that mean you like him because he’s such a troublemaker? You’ve always had a soft spot for those, being one yourself and all that.”
Her eyes crinkle at the corners when she laughs, not offended in the least. There isn’t a bigger cheerleader of Rose, the troublemaker, than Rose herself.
“You know me so well.” She winks at me before lifting her chin in Monica’s direction. “Looks like she finally caught our little mischief-maker. I’m curious. What did he do this time?”
Just then, Monica turns to face Tommy so she can talk to him. Facing the little boy means turning her back toward us. I point my finger toward Monica and hear Rose gasp beside me. “Do I have to explain more?”
“Oh my goodness, that little rascal.” Her hand goes up to cover her mouth but not before the laughter flows out of it, and I can’t help but laugh about it all over again.
Little Tommy thought it would be a fantastic idea to go beyond the handprints we made with paint on paper and smack Monica’s butt when she unsuspectingly turned away from him to help the child sitting next to him.
“I have to say, it does look very artsy though. Perfectly proportioned too.” Rose’s head is tilted sideways as we both blatantly stare at Monica’s butt that is now adorned with two little handprints in bright red—one on each butt cheek.
She does have a point, even though I might be a bit biased. To me, anything looks good on Monica’s butt, especially my hands.
Monica has halfway tackled the little boy now, tickling his sides as he begs for forgiveness. Their giggles ring through the whole room, making the other kids giggle too.
Both of their faces wear matching smiles, and I realize how much it suits her. It also makes me wish she could see herself the way I see her. As this warm, caring woman with a heart of gold, who deserves to be happy. Who deserves a supportive partner and kids and whatever else she wants.
Why anyone would ever think less of her is beyond me. Not to mention, say it straight to her face, hurting her feelings without a care in the world. Because if there’s one thing Monica excels at, it’s putting up a strong front for everyone, not wanting to show any weakness.
Of course, she is a strong woman, one of the strongest ones I know besides the women in my family. There’s so much more to her than that facade though, but she barely ever lets anyone see the other softer, and more vulnerable, side to her. Which I think is a shame.
Rose pulls me out of my thoughts by elbowing me in the side, and not gently either, her voice lower than before. “You were right about her, you know.”
“Right about what?” I have about a million different possible things flying through my head she could be talking about, but I won’t give her the satisfaction of blurting out something that might be way off.
I know my sister. She’s the sneakiest one in our family, always trying to pry information out of everyone, always putting her nose into everyone’s business, if they want her to or not.
She lets out a little huff before speaking. “About her being so good with kids. It’s like she was born to work with them. It’s adorable to watch.”
“Agreed.” Of course, I agree because, without a doubt, it’s one of the funniest and cutest things to watch. Monica loves the little ones, and they adore her in return, following her around like little baby ducklings—imprinting on their momma duck the second they lay eyes on her. I’ve witnessed that not only with Mira, but the little kids that practiced at the yoga studio up in Lake Tahoe too. They’re all drawn to her.
“You two have gotten pretty close.” She turns to face me, and her eyes are on my profile, probably trying to magically read my mind. “Especially over the last few weeks. Something has changed, hasn’t it?”
No reason to lie or be vague. I’m sure it’s pretty obvious we’re close friends. We live together, for goodness’ sake. “Yes.”
“How close, exactly?”
I shoot her an annoyed look she fully deserves. Even if I felt like talking to someone about my intimate relationship with Monica, it certainly wouldn’t be with my little sister—not that I’d spill the beans anyway. I’m certain Rose knows that too and is merely playing with me, trying to see how far she can push me.
“She’s my best friend, Rose. That’s how close. Are you happy now?”
The look in her eyes softens, and I avert my gaze, afraid to give something away without even saying a word. “I can tell she means a lot to you. To all of us. She came into our little town, bulldozing her way straight into all of our hearts. We’ll all miss her, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.” A frustrated groan builds in my chest, working its way up my throat, but I swallow it before it can get past my lips. “She’s been working hard on getting back on her feet so she can dance again.”
She nods. “I’m sure she did. I didn’t say she doesn’t deserve it, just that we’ll all miss her. I guess I just wish she could stay here forever. She fits right in with all of us.”
I stay silent, not sure what to say to that. I just told my sister Monica is my best friend, so naturally, I want her to stay too.
Rose continues to stare at me, suddenly putting her hands up to her hips. I’m not sure what caused her change in behavior, but that’s normal with Rose.
The hair at the nape of my neck stands up in nervous anticipation of what’s going to come out of her mouth next.
When she points her finger at me on top of it, I’m pretty sure I won’t like what she has to say.
“You know what, Gabe? I don’t really care what ‘best friend’ crap you’re feeding me because I know you’re full of it. I know, under all those layers of denial and deflection you’ve piled up like they’re winter coats and you’re in Siberia, Monica means a lot more to you than you’ll admit to me, and probably even to yourself. Monica is one of the best people I’ve ever met. She’s kind, super fun, talented, and gorgeous. She’s family by choice and not by blood. Heck, I like her better than some of the people in our family.”
She blows a strand of hair out of her face, and her shoulders sag a little with her next words. “I can’t remember the
last time I’ve seen you this happy, and I think she’s the best thing that has ever happened to you. Yet, here you are, spouting all this BS while watching her from afar. I can only hope you’re smart enough to come to your senses, and do something about it before it’s too late.”
With that, she turns around and marches out of the room, just as Monica walks over to me with a big smile on her face that falls the second she gets a good look at me and my dumbfounded expression.
I force a smile as I join her and we finish up class together. No need for her to catch wind of Rose’s advice I wasn’t asking for in the first place.
Twenty-Seven
Gabe
After a few days, we’re finally settled into a new routine. We start our days with our bambini painting classes—they’re actually a lot more fun than I thought, now that I’ve gotten used to them—before Monica and I part ways. She stays at the academy to dance for a few hours while I go back home to write. Most evenings, we relax together before we fall into each other’s arms in a heap of lust and a need so strong, I’m not sure how I’m ever going to live without it.
I’m pretty sure I’ll be suffering from withdrawal.
I’ve had to adjust my writing time to fit this new schedule, but it’s well worth it. Helping my sister and also spending as much time as possible with Monica before she leaves next week has been pushed to the top of my priority list.
Now, I’m back at the academy after a successful writing session, ready to pick up Monica so we can go grocery shopping together.
Such a domestic task, and apparently, I’m not the only one who’s noticed.
Whenever we’re out, I feel people’s eyes on us. When we stop to talk to someone, their gazes flutter back and forth between us, checking where our hands are. More than once, I’ve witnessed someone’s lips turn into a thin line when they see them resting next to our respective bodies. Despite it all, no one’s said a word.
The Mitchell Brothers Collection: A Feel-Good Romance Box Set Page 51
