Sweet Keeper (Sweet Talkers Book 1)

by Thalia Sanchez

  “Are you going to be fine with him?”

  “Please, Bree. He sure messes around a lot, but look at him, he’s a puppy.” Ash doesn’t realize her mistake until Ryder moves his head, smirking.

  “I do mess around a lot, doll. But I’m intrigued, is puppy going to be your nickname for me?”

  I recognize a trace of flirting on his tone.

  This isn’t going to be good. At all. Not if Ryder plans to tap that, and her heart breaks because he can’t commit to a serious relationship. Ash doesn’t seem like the type of girl that likes to fuck around. Her vibes scream commitment to the entire world, and Ryder has a lot of issues with that.

  We walk away from them, while Bree’s face furrows with concern.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “I want to go out with you on Saturday.” That’s the first thing that Stanley says when we see each other on Wednesday.

  It’s early in the morning, and I’m still sleepy because I stayed up late watching a show with Karma until four. I’m not sure that I heard him right. Tilting my head, I process his words because the drowsy cloud it’s still stuck to my skin, refusing to abandon me. I blink a couple of times, completely lost.

  “What?” I question as I frown.

  I’m not sure that I understood what he said.

  Stanley, like always, looks refreshed as if he didn’t stay awake texting me until two. How can he look so good at eight in the morning? It’s a secret that I won’t find out soon. The only thing that stands out is the light bruise on his jaw, but even with that, he’s absurdly handsome.

  It’s insane.

  For example, I look like I’ve been using heavy drugs for two months straight.

  “You and I going out on Saturday. What do you think?” he says slowly, giving me time to process the words. His green eyes sparkle with hope, making him cuter than he is.

  My stomach twirls. Not because I think this is surreal, but because, strangely, he’s asking me with so much time beforehand. Usually, he texts me before he comes over or if I’m in the mood to visit him, which is all new to me.

  “As in what?” I interrogate, trying out the field because I don’t want to jump into conclusions and seem desperate.

  Is he asking what I think he is, or my brain is creating illusions?

  Stanley rolls his eyes.

  “A date, Bree. I want to take you on a date,” he clarifies a little higher than our usual whispers in class, catching the attention of a few of our classmates.

  He notices that and shrinks on his chair, his face turning red. My heart melts a little with his action.

  I don’t care if people start gossiping because the golden boy of Moss University asked me on a date. Very few people know what’s going on between us, and I only care about those. Our classmates have seen us together, and it’s kind of obvious that something is blooming with us. But somehow it creeps me out that people want to invest time in what we do.

  “Okay,” I reply, offering him a small smile. “My Saturday is yours.”

  A triumphant smile marks his face.

  “Thank you.”

  “Now, I’m curious to know why you’re asking me with so much time beforehand,” I speak, and curiosity sparks in my system.

  “I want you to wear a dress.”

  His response catches me off guard, and I almost choke on my saliva. He’s not laughing, which means this isn’t a joke. There’s no hesitation or doubt in his voice. I lower my gaze to my outfit; yoga pants and a long-sleeved black shirt. I’m not going to mention my hair at all.

  “A dress? Are you kidding me?” Stanley shakes his head casually. “Why? I thought you liked me just the way I am. Dresses and I don’t get along,” I complain.

  My mom always scolded me because I never sat straight with dresses. We’re in the second week of November, the temperature is dropping, and I’m not in the mood to lose my legs thanks to the cold.

  Stanley leans in, his mouth grazing my ear. I stay still, a little concerned with what he’s going to say. This class is already hard enough for me to get distracted by him. I have no doubts that’s what he’s going to do.

  “Bree,” he pronounces in a low, raspy voice that sends goosebumps all over my body. “I know that you think that I’m some kind of gentleman, but I’m going to be honest with you. The only reason why I want you to wear a dress is because of the access it will give me.”

  I have to bite my lip to hold back a frustrated whimper that might embarrass me in front of my classmates. Stanley leans back on his chair, and I turn around to focus on the whiteboard. Hot blood accumulates in my face, my skin on fire. My whole body feels in flames, sudden flashes of warmth running up and down my system.

  His comment turns me on. The frustration from the weekend is driving me insane, and he’s enjoying playing and teasing me. Stanley is treating the wait like some kind of foreplay that has me weak and close to begging already. I’d enjoy this entirely if it didn’t break my concentration for the class. I don’t even notice when the Harpy arrives and starts writing concepts on the board. My mind is on a carousel, thinking about what kind of dress I’m going to wear.

  Two can play this game.

  On Friday, I go shopping with Ash and Karma after admitting that I like him and made out for hours when I stayed at his place. They signed up to help me find a dress for the date and made sure to convince me to buy lingerie in case that things get heated tomorrow. I hope that they do because he has been teasing me for these past days, and I need to play him too.

  For some reason, the girls push me to go to the lingerie store before buying a dress. I consider it an impractical thing to do because I don’t know what kind of dress I’m going to wear and its limitations, but I end up entering the store.

  “I can’t believe this,” I mutter, observing the sets on sale.

  “Wow, Ash. That’s you,” Karma elbows her to catch her attention.

  One of the promotional photos of a collection is of Ash. She’s standing facing directly at the camera with her mouth opened slightly, her blue gaze intensified. A black crop top covers her breasts, leaving space to spot her cleavage and red panties with a black elastic wrap the bottom half of her body. Red and black are her signature colors.

  She looks stunning, as always, but Ash tenses up in front of the photo. I can sense her discomfort when her lips purse together. Her shootings are getting riskier, more reckless than before.

  “Are you okay?” I ask her.

  Turning her head, she forces a smile.

  “I hated those panties. It’s not a tong, but it sure ended up like that by the way, it’s always sticking between your butt cheeks.”

  I don’t press the topic because she’s avoiding it, but I know that there’s something else going on. Something that Ash is trying to hide from me.

  “Bree, what are Stanley’s kinks? Wait, do you think he has a kink?” Karma asks, changing the subject.

  “I dunno. He seems vanilla to me,” Ash follows Karma’s lead.

  I bite the inner side of my cheek. Although it’s not something that he has said explicitly, I can think of a few things he likes based on a couple of comments. Also, with his control, I can think of another thing he’s good at.

  “Your face is all red. Does that mean he has one?” Karma inquires and arches a brow, intrigued. “Let me guess: he likes to role-play. I can picture him doing a teacher-student scene.”

  I’ll be damned if I said that I didn’t think about it. The image unfolds in my head, inspiring scenarios that have been there since we started this new game.

  “I bet that’s it,” Ash agrees with her, and they snicker like a pair of hyenas. “Although, I’m curious about something else. I know that you guys didn’t do much when you stayed with him—”

  “More like nothing,” I correct her with annoyance.

  “—but you had to feel him, right? No one kisses for that long without getting horny. What’s waiting for you?”

  Rolling my eyes, I feel shy about
this conversation. I’ve always been outspoken about my hookups. Lord knows that I gave them a lot of details without hesitation. But things are different with Stanley. I want to keep our relationship protected by a bubble, so that no one can burst it. Maybe it’s because I still haven’t gotten used to the idea of us being together; he’s not a hookup. I want him to stay with me. In some weird psychology, my brain thinks that if I maintain us safely guarded, he can’t disappoint me.

  “Girls, c’mon.”

  Ash shrugs as if it didn’t matter.

  “You know that I’m a supporter of the size don’t matter statement, but it doesn’t hurt to know if he has good equipment.”

  “Ay, por favor, have you seen Bree’s size compared to Stanley’s? Even if he had a small dick, his fingers are long enough to please her,” Karma tells Ash as if I wasn’t listening to them.

  Before they start going crazy, my mouth opens. “It’s not small.”

  They stare at me, speechless.

  I can barely process that I said it, but it was an impulse. I blurted the words without thinking about them. However, I don’t mind at all that they stopped commenting about us. It sure helps me gain the confidence to talk about the topic.

  “I’m sorry, what was that?” Karma insists, a grin forming on her lips.

  I allow a sigh to escape from me.

  “His equipment,” I specify, switching my gaze from Karma to Ash. “It’s not small at all.” Shrugging, I wink at them as I turn on my heels and focus on the pieces of clothing.

  “You lucky bitch!” Karma exclaims, breaking the silence that was installed after my swift comment. “In what universe you can find a guy who’s tall, handsome, likes to read, is a complete gentleman, and has a good dick? It’s not fair.”

  The laughter dies in my throat when an employee from the store stops dry when she hears Karma. For a second, she’s frozen in place until her gaze falls on me.

  “You know, I’ve heard a lot of things in this store, but that,” she lets out and whistles under her breath. “Your friend is right. It’s truly unfair that the rest of us commoners don’t get combos like that. Now, what’s the occasion? Anniversary, birthday, casual surprise, looking to spike the relationship?”

  “More like an initial seduction,” Ash responds, intertwining her arm with the employee, walking through the store. “You see, she has been dating this guy for a month—”

  “That’s a lie. It’s only been a week,” I try to intervene, but Ash ignores me and raises a hand as if she was telling me to shut up.

  “—but the guy is a complete gentleman and doesn’t want to touch her.”

  “That’s not true,” I say, turning around completely, irritated by my best friend.

  The employee gets a good look at the side of my face that has the bruise. It’s greener, showing that’s healing, but she gasps loudly, getting rid of Ash’s arm. I can see her mind jumping to conclusions.

  “It’s not what it looks like!” I protest before she goes away. “I got mugged last week. Trust me. I wouldn’t be buying lingerie for an abuser. I’d be getting a restraint order.”

  She looks uncertain, hesitating if she should continue offering her help. As we keep talking, she relaxes and gives us good client service. I give her extra points for having strong ideals, and that she made sure to know that I’m not running off with an abuser.

  After I decide on two pieces of black and purple lace, I take a photo of the bag and send it to Stanley. He replies instantly.

  Stan: what’s that?

  Stan: wait, I just googled it.

  Stan: fuuuuuuuuuck

  Stan: can I get a peek?

  Me: Nope

  Stan: You’re evil, Bree

  Me: I learned from you, babe

  Stan: Babe, huh? I like it. I’m counting the minutes, Miss Pierce.

  So am I, Stan.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I arrive at Bree’s apartment five minutes early because I’m impatient. Usually, I can wait longer than this. Patience is a virtue, but ever since I saw the photo of the bag from the lingerie store, my mind has been spinning like a carousel, turning me into a man who doesn’t know the concept of time. Anxiously, I press the doorbell with a finger and mentally count to keep my brain occupied.

  It doesn’t take long before the door opens, and Ash greets me with a smile. Her blue eyes drop to the rose in my hand.

  “Just one?” Ash wonders with a frown as she shakes her head, disapproving of my choice.

  This is a test. I can see it in the way her lips are struggling to remain straight.

  What she doesn’t know is that Bree told me that she loves fall because she doesn’t have to struggle with allergies. Dozens of flowers activate them, and as much as people consider it a nice gesture, I don’t want to go out with a sneeze machine today.

  “Ash, I want to go out with Bree tonight, not with Rudolph,” I tell her, arching a brow.

  A giggle emerges from her lips and slides to the left to let me in.

  “I wasn’t sure if you knew that about her,” Ash mentions, shrugging. “The last time that a guy gave her a dozen of flowers, she spent the whole prom wanting to rip off her nose.”

  I’m still surprised that someone so young can have so many bad experiences. I admit that she has the worst of luck. Bree Pierce is the incarnation of Murphy’s law; if it can go wrong, it will go wrong. Part of me should be concerned about it, but I’m far too deep to back out.

  “When has she had good luck at something?” I question with an arched brow.

  Ash opens her mouth and then closes it, failing at naming one occasion in which Bree’s luck worked in her favor.

  “You haven’t been that bad of an experience,” she points out, defending her friend.

  I never said otherwise, but I have to be honest about us too.

  “We only got together because of her bad luck,” I reply, wrinkling my nose.

  “Fuck,” Ash whispers in defeat. “Okay, our girl has a bit of bad luck.”

  Our girl. I fucking love the sound of that.

  I abstain from making further comments because there’s not much that I can say that would help Bree. In her defense, things just get out of hands, and she has been a couple of weeks without getting into trouble. Well, of things that she can’t prevent because getting mugged doesn’t qualify as having good luck.

  “By the way, this is for you,” I announce, handing her a rolled paper that has a red ribbon wrapped around it on a bow.

  Ash narrows her sight with distrust, a frown of confusion appearing on her face.

  “What are you? Santa Claus?”

  “Nope. That’s from Ryder,” I clarify, stopping her from jumping on the crazy train. I don’t want her to get the wrong impression. A distressed moan slips from her lips, and I feel the need to warn her. “Ash, I know that Ryder has his charm, but—”

  “He’s a fuckboy,” she guesses, interrupting me, and smiles. “I know, Stan. His reputation precedes him, you don’t have to worry about me. Nothing’s happening between us.”

  Ash goes straight to the point. It’s no surprise that Bree considers her to be her best friend. They’re both outspoken and take no shit from people.

  “I’m just letting you know. He’s not a bad guy, honestly. I owe him a lot, but the only relationship he has is with his art.” I’m as honest as I can be. Ryder is probably the best friend I have. He’s excellent and genuine. However, he has quite a reputation. It is what it is.

  “I’m not planning to change that, okay? Relax.” Her fingers play with the red ribbon. “Bree! Your knight is here,” she announces and unties the ribbon, gasping when her eyes meet the content of the paper.

  It’s a charcoal drawing of Ash. Her raven hair resembles a curtain at both sides of her face, falling gracefully, turning into what it seems like smoke. Only her lips are colored in a bright shade of cherry red. It’s breathtaking. My roommate is talented, and I can’t deny that. Ash can’t either because she’s entirely
speechless.

  “Wow, I planned to make an entrance, but there’s something more interesting going on.”

  Immediately, I turn on my heels when I hear Bree’s voice behind us. Air gets stuck on my throat when I finally see her. She’s fucking gorgeous. That’s all I can think of her.

  Bree’s wearing a black dress that clings to her torso, hugging her waist most delicately, falling softly, grazing her mid-thighs. She has the same high heeled boots that she used on Halloween, making her look taller. Her hair is down in waves.

  I grab her hand so she can turn around, and I can appreciate her completely. A trail of indecent thoughts invades my mind when I remember that underneath her dress, she’s wearing something for me.

  She’s fucking fire.

  “You’re stunning.”

  The skin of her face reddens, trailing her eyes to another point of the room.

  “Thanks,” she mutters. Still holding her hand, I hand her the rose. “You remembered.”

  As if I could forget anything that she tells me.

  “Of course.”

  “Can we go now?” Bree asks.

  I chuckle as I nod.

  Saying goodbye to Ash, she puts the rose on the kitchen island and intertwines her arm with mine, walking by my side. Bree rolls her eyes when we get to the parking lot and notices that I borrowed Ryder’s car. Again.

  “Ryder?” she guesses the owner of the black BMW.

  I tilt my head.

  “Yup.”

  I open the passenger’s door for her, hearing her mumble about how I’m always a gentleman. I do my best to suppress the urge to tell her that tonight I plan to be everything but that. The last thing that I need is to add more fire to our tension.

  At least not so soon.

  Walking around the car, I hop on the driver’s seat and turn the car on. Bree stops me before I get to take the emergency brake off, putting one hand above mine. The other travels to my neck, pulling me so that our mouths collide in a kiss.

  Heat invaded me as her warm and soft mouth moves over mine, her teeth grazing my bottom lip, threatening to bite it, and her naughty tongue tempts me. The kiss grows more passionate when my tongue meets hers. A throaty groan escapes from me, drowning in her lips.