The Feel Good Factor

by Blakely, Lauren

  Derek turns to me, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief as he answers Hunter’s question. “Is he right? Or is he so fucking right?” He gives me no time to respond, since he cups my cheeks then brushes his lips against mine. My eyes float closed, and I expect a soft, tender kiss, but it’s hot and passionate, and it might very well send the temperature in the whole damn alley soaring as he claims my mouth.

  Arden’s no longer quiet. She’s hooting. Gabe is clapping. My brother and Hunter are now directing their “get a room” shouts at us.

  But I don’t care because I’m aching for Derek from one unexpected kiss.

  He breaks it but keeps a hand on my arm to steady me. I look into his eyes, and they’re locked on mine. “You’re right. You’re so fucking right,” I murmur.

  “And fucking is what I want to be doing very soon.”

  I shudder. “Me too.”

  I’m ready to grab him and tug him out of here when my brother shouts out like an Olympic judge. “I give you a two. The technique is all wrong.”

  I groan and shoot him a dirty look, then a feminine voice cuts in from the bar. It’s Finley. “That was a nine point five. I might even base a kiss in my next show on that,” she says, and I give her a thumbs-up, since I’d love to be the inspiration for a kiss in the TV show she pens.

  Vanessa chimes in. “I beg to differ. That kiss was a perfect ten.” She’s heading toward us, one of her swing dresses swishing at her knees. She’s carrying a tray full of beer bottles.

  “I’m giving them a ten too,” Arden says as Vanessa sets the tray on the table. Shaw stares at Vanessa the whole time.

  What the hell? Does Shaw have laser vision on my friend now? Shaw tips his chin at her and whispers thank you as he grabs a beer.

  She smiles back at him as she turns to go. “Need anything else?”

  I blink, unsure of what’s going on with my brother and one of my best friends.

  “As a matter of fact, I do. Be right back,” Shaw says, but before he can join her, I grab him and tug him a few lanes away.

  “Is something up with you and Vanessa?” I whisper.

  He scoffs. “Please. You told me years ago if I went near either of your best friends, you’d have my balls in a sling.”

  I widen my eyes. “I said that?”

  He raises his right hand in an oath. “It was eleventh grade, and you declared both your besties off-limits, then reinforced it with a threat to the boys. I shudder at the memory.”

  “I was sixteen. How do you remember that?”

  He clutches his crotch. “I take the fate of my balls quite seriously, thank you very much.” He gestures in Vanessa’s direction as she returns to the bar. “I’m simply helping her with her wine and bowling shindig. So there. Cool your jets, little sis.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. “Good. Because you’re kind of a ladies’ man, you know that?”

  “Kind of? The ladies love me, and I love them right back. Also, speaking of balls, looks like you’re getting your lady balls off.”

  I swat him. “Shaw.”

  He waves me off. “I told you it’d work out just fine with the two of you living together. And I was right. You’re perfect roommates. Neither one of you wants anything serious, and you’re both getting along while getting it on.”

  The last person I want to discuss my sex life with is my brother, so I shoo him off. “Go. Be on your way.”

  He tips an imaginary hat and takes off, while I noodle on his parting words. Derek and I do get along well. We get along great.

  I’m not a fool though.

  I might play the tough girl with my friends, but inside I’m aware of the risks with Derek. I’m aware of the possibility that . . . whatever this is . . . could go belly-up before our end date.

  And even if it doesn't, it’ll end.

  It’ll end.

  But as I gaze at Derek while he chats with Hunter, Gabe, and Arden, the last thing I want is to stop.

  * * *

  We leave together in my car.

  As I pull onto the road, Derek fiddles with the radio. “You don’t want Shaw to be with Vanessa?”

  “How could you tell?”

  He laughs. “Maybe by the way you pulled him aside and seemed to read him the riot act after he ogled her?”

  “He did ogle her, didn’t he?” I ask, flicking on my turn signal as I slow at a light.

  “Looks like she ogled him too though. Hate to break it to you.”

  I shoot him a withering glare. “I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.”

  “So I was right. You don’t want them to be together?”

  “He’s kind of a player. But I also don’t think there’s anything there. They’ve known each other for twenty-four years, and it’s not like anything has happened before.”

  “Sounds like they’ve had twenty-four years, then, for the connection to slowly burn.”

  I set a hand on his forehead. “Yes, you do have a fever.”

  He squeezes my thigh as I head down the next street. “You suffer from denial.”

  “He’s just Shaw being Shaw. He’s flirty with her sometimes. That’s all.”

  “And she’s flirty right back. You notice that, right?”

  I shoot him an admonishing look. “Derek, I adore you and your ability to cook and give me multiple orgasms and bowl as terribly as I do. But you are not allowed to discuss the possibility of my brother being with one of my best friends.”

  He laughs louder. “Why not? It seems like he’s really into her. And it seems like she’s really into him.”

  “It can’t happen.”

  “Why?”

  I swallow roughly and think of the answer. “Because she deserves the world. She deserves the best man possible.”

  “Isn’t that your brother?”

  “I love him fiercely. I’d go to war for him. But Shaw is a goofball and a supreme ladies’ man. She needs somebody who’s going to treat her like a queen. That’s what she deserves. Also, if you keep discussing my brother, you’re going to turn me off, when ten minutes ago I was picturing you bending me over the bed. Do you really want that on your conscience?”

  He mimes zipping his lips.

  * * *

  After we head inside, he wastes no time. He takes me to his bedroom and our clothes come off in record time.

  “Turn around. Bend over the bed. Get your ass in the air.”

  I lower my chest, pressing my elbows to the mattress, fashioning my body into an L. He reaches for my wrists, stretching my arms above my head, then kisses his way down my spine. I squirm and moan as he flicks his tongue along my back, teasing me to the point of exquisite torture. I’m hot and wet and already moaning. He’s hard and ready and practically grunting.

  He slides a hand between my legs, slipping a finger inside me, and I rock against his hand. “You’re always so wet for me, kitten. So slick and ready for my fingers, my cock, my tongue.”

  “You turn me on so much,” I breathe as he adds another finger, then thrusts deeper. “You’ve had me like this all night.”

  “I can tell, and I fucking love it. I love how wild you are for me.” He crooks his fingers inside, sliding another one across my clit, and I scream in pleasure, tossing my head back, careening toward the edge already.

  “Yes,” I cry out.

  “Fuck, Perri. I love watching you come. The way you let go. I want to feel you come on my hand any fucking second.”

  And he nearly has his dirty wish. I don’t quite come on command, but I’m quick. Several hard, fast thrusts of his fingers hitting just the right spot, and I detonate.

  I don’t even have time to come down before he’s driving into me. I cry out again from the sheer intensity of his thick cock sliding deep inside.

  “Yes. This. You,” he mutters, his voice smoky. “I’ve never wanted anyone like this.” He punctuates each word with a thrust. “Never.”

  His words send me soaring. “Me neither.”

  Another thrust. “Yea
h?”

  “I want you so much,” I pant.

  He grinds into me, harder, farther. “So fucking much, kitten. So fucking much.”

  “Same. It’s the same for me.”

  He drapes his chest over my back, telling me to keep my hands above my head, stretched out on the mattress.

  He grinds against me, taking me, having me, making me feel wildly insane with pleasure as he growls in my ear, whispering filthy words.

  So fucking hot.

  Love your sweet pussy.

  So tight.

  Love the way you grip me.

  Love fucking you.

  Soon I’m coming again, and he’s chasing me there, our shouts mingling in a chorus of sweat and ecstasy.

  The best part isn’t the orgasm that rocks my world. It’s the way he wraps his arms around me, kisses my neck, and tells me I better spend the night in his bed again.

  Somewhere out there, a warning sign flashes, telling me that all these nights together will zoom us straight down Feelings Street. But I ignore it, maybe because I’m already there.

  * * *

  I ignore it, too, because the moments with him are wonderful. After he brings me into his arms, he runs his fingers through my hair. “Thanks for taking me out with your friends tonight.”

  “They’re your friends too.”

  “I know. But I still appreciate it.”

  “Did you have a good time?”

  “Yeah, I kinda like this town.”

  “You should think about staying,” I whisper. But I don’t say the next thing. I don’t mention where he’s going to stay or what happens when this month ends, if we keep living together or if something gives. Instead, I flip around and change the subject, wincing as I say it because of the reminder of the ticking clock. “So, that kissing contest next weekend?”

  “Yes, the deal, the deadline,” he says, and it almost sounds like it pains him too to think of it.

  “We only have a handful of nights left to practice kissing.”

  “Don’t remind me,” he mutters then nuzzles me, kissing me like he can’t stop, like neither one of us is trying to meet the screw-till-we’re-out-of-our-systems deadline.

  Even so, I need to pick a category for the contest by tomorrow, so I pull apart from him briefly. “What category do you think we’re best at?”

  He brushes his finger against my top lip. “Seems we’ve always been good at the most passionate one. We would make everyone jealous, you know that?”

  I tremble. “I do know that.”

  “Doesn’t it feel like no one has ever kissed the way we do?”

  The tremble turns into a full-body shudder. “It feels that way.”

  He drops a soft kiss to my lips, and I wriggle against him. “Like nobody else could kiss this passionately.”

  “It’s felt that way since the first time you kissed me.”

  “It makes me want to keep kissing you,” he says, and he does.

  He kisses me nearly all night long, and in the morning, it still feels like I didn’t get enough. He’s not any closer to being out of my system than he was a few days ago. In fact, he seems to be even deeper in it.

  So deep, there’s a four-letter word for it.

  29

  Derek

  I shoot a few hoops with Travis at the park on my day off on Monday.

  I make a beaded bracelet with Molly in their backyard.

  And Devon spends a whole lot of time working out her mouth on a teething ring. By the time seven thirty rolls around, I’m whistling a happy tune as I stroll down the street with the three monsters I love.

  Because life is fucking good.

  The job is firing on all cylinders.

  The kids are well-adjusted, and Jodie’s managing her hubby’s deployment with my help.

  The nights, though, are the best part. Perri and I have fallen into a rhythm of work, work out, eat, screw, sleep.

  Later? Rinse and repeat.

  Nothing like great sex to make a man feel as if he walks on water. And with Perri, I’m speeding, skiing, and boogie boarding over waves.

  Nothing can get me down. Not even when Jodie calls and asks if I can hang around with the rug rats for another hour so she can finish her invoices. Absolutely, I tell her.

  “Can we watch a movie, Uncle Derek?” Molly asks when I hang up.

  “I want to see Wreck-It Ralph,” Travis adds, flashing the winning smile that nearly always gets him what he wants.

  “What do you think, Dev?” I inquire of the little blonde baby hanging in the BabyBjörn on my chest.

  She coos her agreement.

  Since I’m a few blocks from our house—I mean, Perri’s house—I head up the steps with the kiddos and knock on the front door.

  With her red hair swept up in a messy bun and a curious glint in her eyes, Perri sweeps open the door. “You don’t have to knock.”

  I gesture to my plus-three. “It’s the front door. That’s your domain. Plus, I have a crew with me.”

  Molly pushes forward. “Perri, can we watch Wreck-It Ralph in your house with Uncle Derek? We’ll be good.” She bats her eyelashes.

  “We promise we won’t be too loud,” Travis says, making the case too and pressing his little palms together.

  Devon gurgles.

  And Perri? Her smile is golden, like she’s lit up inside and glowing.

  “Twist my arm, why don’t you?” She sweeps the door open.

  She grabs her knitting from the table and stuffs it into a bag next to the sofa.

  We pile into the living room, find the movie on Netflix, and stream it on the TV. The kids climb onto the couch with Devon in Molly’s arms, Travis wedged to my side, and Molly glued to Perri. That also puts the gorgeous redhead smack dab next to me, where I want her. We’re thigh to thigh, knee to knee as we watch.

  I send instructions to my body not to get turned on while watching a flick with the kids. For the most part, my body listens dutifully.

  But there’s an organ that doesn’t listen so well.

  And it’s not the one between my legs. It’s the one in my chest. Because Perri’s answering questions from Molly all through the movie, then letting my niece cuddle up next to her while she holds the baby, then making funny faces.

  The next thing I know, Molly asks what Perri’s been making.

  “A little knit cap for Devon. But shh, don’t tell her,” Perri whispers.

  “It’ll be our secret,” Molly whispers in return.

  And my heart slams against my chest. It thumps harder, faster.

  She’s making a gift for my sister’s kid.

  Plus, she was completely cool with the surprise of three little six and under stinkers showing up on her couch tonight.

  What’s more, I knew she’d be cool with it because that’s who she is. I’d never describe her as laid-back, but she is a roll-with-the-punches kind of gal. She’s unflustered and completely chill.

  She also has one hell of a huge heart under that fiery exterior.

  As the movie nears its end, I watch her and Molly, enjoying the little whispers, the smiles, the laughs. My heart races, beating a thousand times faster, and my skin heats in a whole new way.

  This woman is not out of my system.

  She’s not only a fantastic fuck.

  She’s not simply a fine roomie with temporary benefits.

  She’s the woman I’m falling so damn hard for that it’s scary. Much scarier than the horror novels I read.

  But like those, I can’t seem to stop turning the pages.

  * * *

  Near the end of the movie, Perri rests her head on my shoulder. Her eyes are fluttering. I press a soft kiss to her forehead, and she murmurs something then slumps against me moments later, snoozing.

  She sleeps through the credits, stirring when Jodie arrives later to corral the kids. She stretches and says hi to my sister. “Your kids are darlings.”

  “They have their moments. And I can’t thank you enough for helping ou
t.”

  “All I did was point the remote at the right flick,” she says with a smile.

  “Not true,” I chime in. “You chatted with Miss Chatterbox the whole time.”

  Perri smiles. “It was a blast.”

  “You also willingly let us pile like a pack of puppies on your couch,” I add.

  “Well, I like puppies, so it was no problem,” Perri adds, then turns to Jodie again. “We had fun. Also, your walnut blue cheese bread is the best.”

  “Come by this weekend, and I’ll give you a loaf.”

  She waves a hand. “I’ll buy it.”

  Jodie shakes her head adamantly. “Your money is no good at my booth.”

  I help Jodie out to the car, load up the kiddos, and kiss them goodnight. My sister closes the doors, walks around the car, and crosses her arms. “You did it.”

  I knit my brow. “Did what?”

  Shaking her head, she smiles that knowing big sister smile. “You fell for her.”

  “Did not,” I say, lying through my teeth.

  “You can’t fool me. What are you going to do about it?”

  That’s the million-dollar question with the far-too-frustrating answer. “There’s nothing to be done. She doesn’t want a relationship, and I don’t either.”

  “I don’t believe you. You’re in love with her.”

  I wince. Hearing the stone-cold truth spoken aloud makes all these crazy emotions feel even more real. I definitely don’t have the time, space, or inclination for this level of feeling, but it’s fucking here, making itself known. Trouble is, I’m not sure how to deal with it, because I don’t want to get hurt again. “There’s nothing to do,” I say firmly. “But I love you. And good night.”

  “Good night, Derek. I love you too.”

  I go inside, doing my best to leave the conversation and all its dead ends behind me. Perri’s stretched out on the couch. She smiles up at me, her eyes fluttering open.