Valentine's Day Kisses : Boxed Set

by Addison Moore

  I step inside and freeze. Her hair is piled on top of her head with a silver seam of metal running through it.

  “Crap!”

  Roxy sits on the couch, staring at the television with a…knife sticking out of her skull. Blood drips down the sides of her face in long, crimson tracks.

  “What the hell?” I jump back.

  “Cole?” My name comes from behind, and I give a slow turn suddenly rethinking my stance on personal weaponry and self-defense.

  Angel stands wrapped in a trench coat, holding a plate of fresh-baked cookies.

  “Get out!” I yell so loud, the cookies go flying. “You freaking killed her!” I roar as she runs screaming out into the hall.

  A gentle laugh comes from the couch, and I turn to find Roxy wiping her face clean with a towel.

  “That’s one way to get rid of her.” Roxy bats those long lashes up at me, and my body perks to life despite the morbid exit wound sitting on top of her head. “But I’m hardly dead.” She plucks out the butter knife, and her hair falls in one long wet wave. “Relax, I’m dying my hair.” She springs to her feet and lands a lingering kiss over my lips. “Let me rinse this stuff out.” Her hand trails down my back until she rounds over my ass, and I don’t protest the idea. “Then maybe we can catch up on the day.” She offers up a firm squeeze.

  “Catch up on the day,” I repeat like a moron.

  I have a feeling going slow will be harder than I thought.

  While Roxy showers, I move the coffee table and set up a place for our midnight picnic right here in the living room. I scan the TV until I stumble on an easy-going music channel, complete with the video of a crackling fire. What says romance more than an automated fireplace and a bowl of Kung Pao Chicken?

  The bathroom door opens, and I’m quick to light the candle and set it in the middle of the blanket.

  Roxy struts back, the scent of cinnamon and vanilla seep out before her.

  “Wow,” she muses.

  I look up, and my heart stops in my chest. I’m not sure what I was expecting. Roxy usually walks around in sweats, dark Goth-like clothes that leave her figure completely up to my imagination, but this…

  “Wow,” is the only comeback I can think of myself.

  “I’m impressed.” She saunters over in her low cut, black lace dress that barely has the hemline to cover the curve of her bottom. Roxy Capwell is for all practical purposes naked, and I wholeheartedly approve—mostly.

  “This is going to make going slow very very hard”—I lean back on my hands taking her in from head to foot—“not to mention it’s having the same effect on the part of me that’s trying to rip its way out of my boxers. I think, for now, we should stick to first base.” Seriously? I think I’ll sucker punch Bryson next time I see him for planting the idea in my head.

  “Oh?” She pinches her hips. “Is this what’s got you all worked up?” She tilts her head as she comes in close. “I was just getting comfortable before bed. I usually sleep naked. I was just trying to be respectful and put a little something on. I’d hate to cause a scene.” Rox drops to her knees in front of me. She runs her finger from my jawline to my chest in one smooth stroke.

  “Back to slow”—I run my eyes up and down her body—“what’s going on?” I never was one for guessing games, but I’m pretty sure I can guess where she’d like this to go.

  “You only have a semester left under your belt before graduation.” She straddles me on either side of my hips, and I get the feeling that quick bite I snuck on my way home is all the Chinese food I’ll get tonight. Not that I care. I sort of like where Roxy’s head is at—skipping straight to dessert.

  “Hey, cupcake.” I slide her off and scoot back a good foot to put some clearance between my all-too-happy body parts and the fact she’s not wearing any underwear. “Just out of curiosity, you and Angel weren’t playing any drinking games tonight were you?”

  “Nope.” She bounces over to my lap again with her hair glowing a gentle cherry red. “The only game I want to play is right here with you.” Roxy’s lips part seductively, and I can feel myself magnetizing toward her mouth, demanding to fall in.

  “That’s the thing”—I move the candle to the coffee table before we set the entire building on fire—“I think maybe we should be more than a game. I’ve played my fair share of games, and they all end the same way”—I pause to take her in—“with no winner.”

  Her eyes widen and reflect the flames from the television. Roxy is on fire, both inside and out. I’ve never seen a woman look so damn beautiful.

  Her features harden. Her shoulders sag as she rolls off onto the carpet. “Are you giving me the I-just-want-to-be friends speech?” She folds her arms across her chest, pissed as hell. Something about the way her emotions run from one extreme to the other adds to her charm.

  “No.” I pick up her hand and bring it to my lips. “I’m giving you the let’s-have-dinner-and-find-out-a-little-more-about-each-other speech. What makes you such a lean, mean baking machine?” I pluck all the little white boxes out of the bag and load up our plates before she morphs into a sex kitten again. Who am I kidding? Roxy has been a sex kitten right from the beginning. “What makes you tick?” Like a bomb, but I leave that part out.

  “Okay.” She snatches a fork and holds it up to me like a peace offering before taking a bite of her food. “Mmm, how did you know I was starving?”

  “For one, you live off cupcakes. It’s the only thing I’ve seen you eat since you’ve been here.”

  “You complaining?”

  “Nope.” I hold up my hands.

  “Okay.” She grinds her hips into the carpet, and my man parts try to tear their way out of my jeans in order to strangle me and my stupid slow plan of action. “You first. How old are you?”

  “What?”

  “You know, what year were you born? How long have you been trying God’s patience?”

  “Twenty-two years too long.” I scoot in close. “Now it’s your turn. Start from the beginning. Did you have a womb with a view?”

  “Funny.” She scowls to prove her point then her features soften. “When I was little, my parents were gone a lot. As soon as I was able to walk, my grandmother had me baking cookies with her.” She picks at a loose thread and a smile plays on her lips. “Anyway, when I was about twelve she passed away.” Her smile dissipates with the memory, and my heart breaks for her. “I still have the wooden spoon we would use. It belonged to her mother, and now it’s mine.”

  “Is that?” I point over toward the kitchen at the wooden spoon hanging from the wall and try to forget the fact I offered to spank her with it.

  “Yup, that’s the one.” She loosens with a gentle laugh. “Anyway”—she hitches her hair behind her ear like a reflex—“After Granny died, I continued to bake. I saw how happy Ryder was, so I kept doing it.”

  “I bet he was happy. I would have been more than enthused if Baya didn’t burn the toast each time she tried to do something in the kitchen.”

  “I like Baya.” She wrinkles her nose.

  It tears me up to hear about her childhood. Her parents sound like a head-trip—a financially stable head-trip—but, then again, money has a way of magnifying flaws.

  “So what about your parents? I bet they were pretty stoked to have dessert on demand.” There. Nothing kills a hard-on faster than talking about someone’s mother.

  “That thrill only lasted for about five minutes. My dad is sort of a hard ass, and my mother thinks I’m a degenerate. They made it a sport of ignoring me and my brother when we were little. Basically they’ve cut me off from their money although that hasn’t stopped my mother from trying to mold me into a younger version of herself. Nevertheless, my baking skills and good looks will have to get me through life. Dad was always off on business, and my mother was too busy trying to control society. She’s the reason Ryder voluntarily removed himself from the family.”

  “No kidding?” I tuck my head back. I wouldn’t have guessed ther
e was any strife in the Capwell clan. I did a little internet research, and her father’s company is in the Fortune 500, not that I care. I’d like Roxy if her parents were homeless.

  “She’s been anti-Laney from the beginning. I guess she’s not the right pedigree. Social standing is more valuable than anything, including her children. My mother’s judgmental that way. But I guess that’s the pot calling the kettle black because I basically hate society no matter what pedigree they are.”

  “Sorry to hear that.” Great. Now I’ve just depressed the hell out of both of us, not to mention the fact I’m pretty sure I won’t cut the mustard with dear old Mom. “So what makes you hate people?”

  “What’s not to hate? Society is generally corrupt and greedy as hell.”

  “In bed or financially?”

  “Both.”

  Usually this would be a segue into the bedroom for me, but something tells me Roxy’s not in the mood for any of my one-liners tonight or any other night.

  “What else interests you? You know, outside the kitchen.”

  “I like running, only now the ground is too slick to even think of it. I saw your skateboard.” She nods to the corner. “I ride.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really. What’s the matter? A girl can’t ride a skateboard in your world?”

  “Sure she can. And she’s twice as hot if she does.” No joke. I think every cell in my body just picketed my dinner proposition. My ears pulsate with adrenaline and swear to God they’re chanting dessert, dessert.

  “Okay.” She glides in close. “Tell me something about your family. I mean I know about Baya, and you’ve told me some things about your parents, but I want more.”

  “More?” I lie back and stare up at the ceiling. “It’s funny, I was just thinking about my dad today. What his thoughts would be on some of the lifestyle choices I’ve made, and if he would regret the grocery-store analogy.”

  She gives a little laugh. “I think overall he’d be happy with what he sees.”

  “I’d like to think so.”

  “So give it, Brighton. Tell me what you liked best about your old man.”

  “We used to do everything together. He taught me how to surf, and we’d go out on the water just about every morning.” I swallow hard. “I thought it was pretty cool the way he could make something from nothing. He was like this magician. You know, an empty lot one day, and before you know it, he’d have a house or a building framed out. It was pretty incredible to witness.” I reach over and interlace our fingers as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “He knew everything. You could ask him the most random question, and he would have an answer, and, of course, he’d be right. The night he went out”—my voice breaks, and I clear my throat—“I was in my room, and he said he’d be right back, so I didn’t even bother with goodbye.” My shoulders sink at the thought. Every day I regret not getting my ass out of bed and taking one last look at him. “I didn’t think he’d hear me from my room. About ten o’clock my mom started freaking out then an hour after that, the police showed up. It was pretty much the entry to the crap factory. Baya was a mess. My mom was out of her mind. Before I knew it, she had us packed and moving to Texas. It was a suck fest all around.”

  Roxy reaches over and runs her fingers through my hair. “I’m so sorry.” A single tear rolls down her cheek.

  “Yeah, well, nothing we can do about that now.”

  “Sounds like you had a lot of love in your house.”

  “We did—still do. Mom asked me to step in and help look out for Baya.” All those memories of last semester come flooding back. “The fact I made Baya and Bryson sneak around makes my stomach turn. But they’re together now, and she’s happy—that makes me happy.” I scoot in and rest my hand over her hip. I can’t remember the last time I had an honest-to-God conversation with a girl, and it feels great. “Tell me about your future. What comes next after Briggs?”

  “Okay, don’t laugh.” Her lips curl on one side, and she looks adorable as hell. “I want to open a bakery—just cupcakes at first. It’s sort of my specialty.”

  “What do you want to call it?”

  “Sprinkles Cupcakes. I can picture it in my mind, mint green walls with pink and yellow dots scattered around. It’s stupid, I know. Laugh and I’ll cut you.”

  “It’s not stupid. Sounds delicious.” I lean in and land a soft kiss over her lips. “I plan on being your first customer.”

  “Really?” Her eyes glisten with moisture.

  “Yes, really. And, if I have my way, I’ll build it for you, too.”

  “So, is that what you’re going to do?”

  “That’s it. Construction.”

  “I guess that’s what we have in common. We both like to create.”

  We’re both hurting, too, but I leave that part out.

  “So what exactly does ‘taking it slow’ mean?” She runs her finger over my stubble.

  “Hell, if I know.”

  Roxy scoots in, and my entire damn body starts to shake. I can’t take much more of this—her little black dress, that dark triangle between her legs that’s been playing peek-a-boo with me for the better part of an hour—her achingly soft lips that I’m dying to cover with mine, so I go for it.

  I offer a gentle peck and pull back because I’m pretty sure slow doesn’t dictate jamming my tongue down her throat the way I want to, but right about now I’d die for a taste—any part of her will do, but, damn it all to hell if I’m not eyeing that triangle again.

  Roxy sways her head as a light moan escapes her. Her eyes are glazed over with a lustful look that’s just this side of feverish. Her mouth covers mine, and I don’t fight it. I’m in, and Roxy can have me any way she wants. We’re all tongues and teeth, heated breaths, and groans for a small eternity.

  Roxy finally curls into me until we’re spooning right there on the floor.

  “I’m sleeping with you whether you like it or not,” she purrs.

  I wrap my arms around her because I happen to like it a hell of a lot.

  Fail to Rise

  Roxy

  A dull knock thumps against the door, rousing me from a blissful dream where I’m floating on a surfboard with Cole’s arms around my waist. I’m having such a great time, I’m laughing my head off.

  The thumping continues, and both Cole and I let out a simultaneous groan.

  “You’d better get it,” he gravels it out.

  “I think you’d better get it. I’m half naked, remember?”

  “I like you half naked.” He leans up over me and gives his signature sexy grin, all for me.

  More thumping ensues. It’s obvious they’ve moved beyond polite to pissed.

  “I dreamed we were surfing.” I wrap my finger around his inky, dark hair. “I want you to teach me.”

  His eyes widen with surprise. “Done.” Cole dips a quick kiss over my lips before jumping to his feet and opening the door.

  “Who are you?” An all-too-familiar female voice shrills through the air. “Roseanna?” Mom bursts in like a hurricane, and I scramble to cover myself with the blanket beneath me.

  The Chinese boxes go flying. Rice and Kung Pao Chicken rain through the air all over her patent leather Prada shoes.

  “Holy mother of God!” She lances the silence with her horror. “Are you naked?”

  “No!” I wave my hand as if I were trying to stop a runaway train. “I’m totally covered.” I flash her a quick glimpse of my black lace dress, and she cringes.

  “Lingerie?” She gags a little when she says it. “Tell the boy to leave.” She shields herself with her hand, not that it’s necessary considering Cole is fully dressed. I’m pretty sure I’ve never been so glad not to have had sex in all my life. God knows what my mother would do if she found us both naked.

  “I’ll go to my room,” Cole says it low, and I close my eyes because I’m pretty sure I haven’t told my mother about—

  “His room?” Her clear green eyes bug out until
they look like marbles. “Oh, Roseanna.” She bows her head a moment.

  “Cole, it’s fine, come here.” I wave him over, and he slinks back reluctant. “This is my mother, Rue. Mom, this is my roommate.” I swallow hard and give Cole a nervous smile because I’ve never said what I’m about to say next. “And my boyfriend, Cole.” Not that Cole and I have crossed that bridge yet, but I don’t see why not since Mom, here, is already having a myocardial infarction. Why not make it official?

  A guttural groan emits from her as if her fingernails were being plucked out one by one.

  “Please tell Cole I’d like a word with you alone.” She massages her eyelids as if she were battling a migraine, and I bet she is.

  “He’s standing right here. You can tell him yourself.” I glance to Cole, embarrassed he gets to witness my mother’s lunacy firsthand.

  “I’d rather not.” She does a circular walkthrough of the kitchen.

  Cole leans in. “I’ll give you two a sec.” He gives Mom a slight wave. “Nice meeting you.”

  “He’s not the one for you.” Mom’s eyes sharpen over mine, and my blood boils because, for one, Cole has barely left the room.

  “How would you know he’s not the one for me? You don’t even know me.”

  She sucks in a breath. Her black wool coat drapes to the floor, and her peach power suit peeks from beneath, giving it a Halloween effect.

  “I know you full well.” She tips her chin while slapping her leather driving gloves over her palm. “I came by to put in an order for the Valentine’s benefit.”

  “Really?” I give a little hop, momentarily forgetting all the bull that just transpired. “That would be amazing! Business has been picking up slowly, but something this big would be the break I need. What are you thinking? Chocolate? Vanilla? Red Velvet! Or I can do a variety and have all these cute Valentine-themed decorations. Oh my, God, I can’t believe this is happening to me.” I slap my hand over my forehead because it all feels too good to be true, first I have a decent guy in my life for once, and now this?