by Jen Meyers
For Suz
one
Oh. My. God. This guy’s LIPS…my skin was on fire everywhere he touched me, and all I could think was I have the BEST job in the entire fucking world.
His hands slipped under the hem of my dress, and his fingers grazed the smooth skin of my thighs up to my hips where he discovered…
“Oh, Jesus,” he groaned, his hands sliding around to grab my bare ass. “Have you been commando all night?”
“Mm-hmmm.” I murmured as I sucked on his earlobe.
He lifted me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist, my core coming into contact with his belt. As he carried me to the couch, the leather rubbed me just right with his every step, almost taking me over the edge.
Leather right there? Holy hell. I might just have to buy myself a pair of leather pants.
I was ready for this. SO ready. It had been too freaking long. The last few guys had been complete duds—no surprises there, of course, but I was so glad this guy had worked out.
At least for tonight.
A girl COULD do everything for herself, you know. But sometimes a man’s touch was what I craved, what I needed.
Like what he was doing with his tongue right now on my—
Sweet Jesus. He wrapped his highly skilled lips around my most sensitive spot, and started to gently suck, his tongue undulating against me, sending out waves of tingling to the ends of my body and beyond. I swear the whole room was throbbing with me as he sucked…sucked…oh, god, SUCKED.
Swirls of sensations mixed with the anticipation of what was to come, rendering me momentarily mindless. I heard his zipper slide down, then the clink of his belt hitting the floor, and he was over me again, claiming my lips, the hard tip of him poised and ready.
“Wait,” I said, reaching for the little drawer in the coffee table. A girl has to be prepared, because god knows too many men aren’t. Like Exhibit A between my legs. I pulled out a condom and waved it around with a sly smile. “The best packages stay wrapped.”
The expression on his face froze for just a millisecond, then he revved up the charm. “Babe, I wish I could.” He shrugged like it was out of his hands. “But I’m allergic to latex.” He brought those dangerous lips of his perilously close. “What say we not worry about it this time.” And he leaned in to kiss me again.
Blocking his lips with the little foil package, I said, “They come latex-free, you know.”
“Uh-huh.” He pulled the condom out of my fingers and tossed it onto the table.
“You don’t carry any?”
“Nope.” He shrugged again, shooting me a dazzling smile.
If he’d been a cartoon character, a little twinkle of light would have sparkled from the top row of his teeth
“Seriously?” I sat up, forcing him to move back as I pulled my dress down. Lines for my next column started forming even as I stared at him in wonder.
Just when you think you’ve found a good one. Or at least a good one-nighter…
I got up, and walked over to the sink to get a drink of water, collect my thoughts, trying to decide if I could jot down a couple of notes while he was still here. Leaning against the counter, I watched him look at me in confusion.
“Babe?” He pulled his pants back on, bouncing a little to get the boys tucked away again. “Did I do something?”
I shook my head. “It’s what you didn’t do.” A sort of half smile flashed across his face and he clearly didn’t understand what was happening. Or, rather, what WASN’T going to be happening.
But it’s not like he didn’t still try.
He slunk toward me, moving across the kitchen like a panther on the prowl until he was gently slipping the glass from my grasp. His very talented fingers teased beneath my short black dress, sending spectacular shivers up my spine.
Man, he was good.
A sweet sigh escaped my lips in spite of myself—I AM only human.
“Come on, Willow,” he said huskily as he kissed my neck, his hands sliding up my thighs toward the promised land again. “I know you want me.”
Moaning as his fingers barely grazed me, I reached behind, found the drawer handle and gave it a yank. Blindly scrabbling around inside, my fingers wrapped around a familiar little square and I pulled out another condom.
What? A girl’s gotta be prepared no matter where she is.
“I do want you…” I waved it in front of his face. “But only if you sheath your sword.”
With one hand still up my skirt, he reached for the little packet with the other and lifted it out of my hand.
“But babe…” He let it drop to the floor. “I’m not at my best…” I held up another, and he tossed it over his shoulder. “…when I’m constricted.” Before it hit the counter with a splat I had a third one out and ready. He slid it out of my fingers and flicked it across the room, his eyes never leaving mine. Then he lowered his voice and gave me a slow, sexy smile. “And I want to give you my best.”
Oh, puh-lease.
Placing one finger firmly in the middle of his chest, I pushed him away from me in disdain. Did he REALLY think I was that stupid?
I may have grown up in a small town on the coast of Massachusetts, but I wasn’t some country bumpkin all wide-eyed in the Big Apple. I’d spent nearly half my life in Boston between college and childhood visits, so city practically ran in my blood.
In all the years I’d been writing my column, I’d come across MORE than my fair share of his type. Bullshitters, the lot of them. And I was not about to roll around in the shit this guy was shoveling.
“Night’s over, Troy,” I said. “Time for you to go.”
Honestly, I wasn’t sure whether he was telling the truth about his allergy or just making an excuse because he hated condoms. It didn’t matter either way because he clearly wasn’t putting one on.
And if it’s not on, IT’S not on.
I am not about to let him sow his wild oats—and who knows what else—in MY field…
Oh, yeah. This column was going to be a good one—at least I was getting SOMETHING out of this night.
He zipped up, walked over in a daze to pick up his shirt and slip it back on as I grabbed my phone to text The Girls.
ME: Tonight’s date? NOT a Trojan man.
SUMMER: Oh NO.
EVER: Wow, instant mood killer.
ME: Yup. No sacking of Troy tonight, dammit.
BLISS: If he won’t shield his rocket, he can leave it in his pocket.
LUCKY: We expect ALL the details tomorrow at drinks.
ME: You’ll get that and more. He just gave me my next column. I suppose I should be thanking the rat bastard, but I’m too horny and FRUSTRATED. ARRGGHH. He seemed so perfect…for a one-night stand.
SUMMER: Guess you’ll be buttering your own muffin tonight.
BLISS: Twinkling your little star.
HARMONY: Stirring your own honey pot.
I burst out laughing just as Troy said, “Uh…Willow?” Shit, I’d forgotten he was still here.
ME: Tomorrow, girls.
He stood in the doorway, unsure, a slight smile on his face, and all over again I could see why I’d chosen him—he was so damned good-looking. But there was nothing attractive about stupidity.
“Can I see you again?” he said. “Maybe tomorrow?”
Seriously. NOTHING attractive.
I brushed past him and held my door open, one hand on my hip. “I’ve already got plans,” I said. And as he opened his mouth, I added, “And I’m going to be busy for a LONG time.”
Like forever.
Closing the door behind him, I heaved a sigh, momentarily feeling sorry for myself. Yeah, I had a great job—I got to go on dates and then get paid to write about them. For a girl who never intended to get entangled in a long-term re
lationship, it was a perfect fit.
I LOVED my life…I mean, in general. Okay, tonight sucked. And the preponderance of crappy guys out there got to be tiresome at times. But it only served to strengthen my reserve that I didn’t want a man.
That I didn’t need a man.
I mean, other than for a nice hammering once in a while.
I had NEEDS. Which were clearly not going to be met tonight.
Opening my door again, I leaned against the heavy metal framing and tapped out a text.
ME: You are NOT going to believe…
JOSH: Tell me.
The door across the hall swung inwards and he stood there grinning at me.
“Just looking at your face I can see this is going to be a good story,” Josh said with a laugh. “Column-worthy?”
“Oh my god, yes. But then most of them are.” I shrugged. “I seem to attract that.”
“You want something different? Write a different kind of column.”
“I just want to get laid. This is supposed to be the PERFECT job for that. Though lately it hasn’t been working out that way.”
He raised an eyebrow and crossed the hall in a flash so we were almost instantly chest to chest. “Well, if THAT’s all you’re looking for…”
Laughing, I placed my palms on his chest and pushed. “I’m not your type.”
“How would you know?”
“I’ve seen what—I mean who—goes into your place. I’m not them. Not even close.”
“I kinda feel like I should be insulted by that.” But he didn’t look the least bit put off. He just smiled down at me with his not-quite-perfect teeth that only made him look more perfect.
Josh Fletcher and I had been friends from the moment we’d met. One witty comeback and I’d been platonically smitten. Not that he wasn’t gorgeous. He totally was—short, sandy blond hair, skyblue eyes, and a perpetual five o’clock shadow. Tall and built, he usually had a light dusting of sawdust clinging to his well-worn Levi’s and always smelled just faintly of turpentine and wood.
It was a good smell.
The thing is, I liked Josh. Which was exactly why I couldn’t sleep with him. Somehow, I was never able to stay friends with the guys I dated. Probably because I snarked about them in my column…but, hey, a girl has to make a living.
Thanks in great part to my college boyfriend, my broken heart fed on the bodies of New York’s eligible bachelors, then my mind spat their bones onto the pages of Du Jour magazine. In between, I spun truly fantastical stories into novels in which various forms of the Perfect Man met a smart and sexy woman, fell madly in love, and they lived happily ever after. He never broke her heart or her trust, never turned into an asshole like a real man.
When it came to the romance in my life, I preferred to keep my men fictional.
My books were Romance, but in my opinion the whole category should fall under Fantasy because, come on. This stuff never happened in real life.
At least not in mine.
“Just count yourself lucky,” I said. “This means you won’t ever end up in a magazine article.”
He leaned close again. “What if I’d rather be a character in one of your novels?”
“Who says you’re not?”
“Really?” He looked ridiculously excited at the thought.
“Aww, you’re so cute.” I lay my palm against his face and gently tapped his cheek with my fingers. “THOSE guys are beyond perfect…and they don’t exist in real life. But,” I said, “if it’ll make you happy, I’ll name the next one after you. I’ll even make him a carpenter.”
He raised an unconvinced eyebrow. “Because that will be sexy.”
“Oh, Josh.” I patted his chest patronizingly. “Readers love some good wood.”
He laughed. “Well, then he really will be just like me.” Then he lowered his voice seductively. “You want to do some research—up close and very personal—to make sure you get me just right?”
I waved him off. “Nah. I’m gonna make it all up. Improve on you. Smooth out your rough edges.”
“Improve on perfection?” Josh rocked back on his heels, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he grinned wide. “Is that even possible?”
“HA. You wish.” I mean, he was perfect. Honestly, I wasn’t going to have to veer very far from the original to make him a swoon-worthy hero, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. I nodded toward the stairs leading up to the roof. “Now, how about a beer and a REALLY good story?”
“Meet you there in five.” He turned back into his apartment and disappeared. I went back into mine to grab a sweater and a couple of Sam Adams—you can take the girl out of Boston, but you can’t take Boston out of the girl. I cast a longing glance at the couch and the possibilities it had held for me not twenty minutes ago. Things sparked to life between my thighs at the thought again, and I glanced at the clock.
He’d said five minutes. I was so freaking horny that I could take care of business and STILL be up there in three.
Heaving a sigh, I put the bottles down on the counter. This was for my own good AND Josh’s. If I went up on the roof with my engine revved and then had a drink or two…well, yeah, I couldn’t be held responsible for my actions.
And I really didn’t want THAT to happen. Not with him, no matter how beautiful he was. When it came down to it, I was not going to do anything that might jeopardize our friendship.
Besides, I’m a do-it-yourself kind of girl.
And sometimes? You just have to do it yourself.
two
Half an hour later we were sitting side by side, looking out over the nighttime cityscape. My lawn chair squeaked in protest as I crossed one leg over the other.
“The kicker?” I took a sip, then tilted the top of my bottle toward Josh.
“There’s a kicker?” He looked dubious, as if it couldn’t get any worse.
In my experience, though, it almost always could.
“God, yes.” I shook my head. “As I was practically shoving him out the door, imagining having a case of latex-free condoms delivered to his office, he tried to ask me out again.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Well, you gotta give the guy props for perseverance.”
“Is that the PC way of saying he was a thick-headed, idiotic asshole?” I turned to face him for a moment. “I mean, the guy was so self-centered that he was willing to put my health at risk. Who knows how many venereal diseases he’s passed on to the women of New York…” Sighing, I sat back and stared at the gorgeous lights of the city. It sparkled at night, lit up by millions of apartments, all of these people in their own little microcosms, living separate but connected lives. “You know what kills me, though?”
“Outside of the fact that you didn’t get laid tonight?”
“Well…YEAH, there’s that. But I was thinking more of all the women who gave into him. Because it MUST work for him part of the time, you know? I mean, if it wasn’t working, he would have caved as soon as I said no, or he wouldn’t have protested in the first place. ‘Just this once, baby.’ They buy his line about being allergic and don’t have enough chutzpah to kick him out on his self-absorbed ass. I don’t know if I want to give them a hug or slap them all silly. But I’ll have to settle for a column about why ‘no glove, no love’ should be EVERY single woman’s mantra, and hope I get through to at least some of them.” I turned to look at him again. “Why are guys such assholes, Josh? I mean, you’re a guy.”
He nodded. “I am.”
“Then you MUST have some insider information.”
Josh lifted one eyebrow, then snorted but didn’t answer. Instead he took a swig of beer.
“I know what you’re thinking,” I said. “That I bring it on myself.” I lifted my bottle to my lips. “That’s what everyone says.”
He laughed, nodding. “Everyone’s right.”
Everyone WAS right. I knew that. But still…why did I get the most disgustingly rotten of ALL the apples? I mean, from the outside they looked GREA
T. All shiny and pretty—seemingly perfect specimens. But once I got them home, most of them were infested with worms.
I hated worms.
Josh reached over and patted my arm, the warmth of his hand seeping into my skin. “You’re the one picking these guys, right?” he said, and I nodded. “And you’re proving yourself right over and over again that guys suck. That’s not likely to change until you decide they don’t.”
“But they will still suck. Even if I were to suddenly believe, INEXPLICABLY, that men were the gift from God they believe themselves to be, it wouldn’t change anything. Troy would still be out there trying to get women to have unprotected sex with him. MY beliefs won’t change reality, Josh.”
“That’s true,” he said, leaning his head back on his chair as he looked at me. “The world will be full of people who suck no matter what you believe. It won’t change that reality.” His eyebrows lifted and he leaned just a little closer. “But it will change yours because you won’t be finding just assholes anymore if you’re not subconsciously seeking them out.”
“Harmony believes that whatever you put out to the Universe, whatever you’re looking for, you’ll attract it to yourself, manifest it in your life. But I don’t know. Lucky’s not looking for them, but she’s found them all the same. The Girls all have. Just not as frequently as me.”
Taking a deep breath, I felt the night’s frustrations ebb. Talking things through—especially with Josh—always helped. I leaned my head back and looked up at the stars. It was a perfectly clear night, and the sky mirrored the nighttime city, twinkling with lights.
I had such a thing for skies.
Josh did, too. He’d let go of my arm and was gazing up, mesmerized.
I sighed happily. He was the best in ALL the ways.
Josh had been different right from the start. No predatory look in his eyes, just warmth and genuine interest in me as a person, rather than as a plaything. Of course, that may have been because we met on the roof of our building rather than at the Meat Market that was every bar in the city. Regardless, from that very first night, Josh and I just clicked, you know? Fit together perfectly, like we recognized something deep within each other. Like it was with me and The Girls, too.
