I nod. “Maybe. Especially if I go in solo.”
Kirby’s forehead wrinkles. “You want me to stay here? It’s fine if you do.”
“Hell no, woman.” I hook my fingers in the loops of her jeans, loving the way her eyes darken as I pull her close. “I want you to come with me and show me your dirty disco moves.”
Her hands smooth up my chest as a naughty smile teases the corners of her mouth. “I’m not sure you can handle my dirty disco moves. They’re pretty scandalous.”
I lean closer, brushing my nose against hers, pulse beating faster as her breath rushes over my lips.
“You know I’m an animal on the dance floor,” she adds, all rough and sexy.
“I do know this about you,” I say, one hand sliding down to grip her ass as I add, “I spent most of the prom fighting a hard-on, and my date had very little to do with it. It was all you dirty dancing in that puffy yellow dress.”
She pulls back, brows popping up. “Really? I gave you a hard-on in high school?”
“You gave me multiple hard-ons in high school. Teenage boy penises are pretty unruly, Larry. They don’t care if a girl is a friend. If she also happens to be sexy and trouble on the dance floor, a hard-on is pretty much a done deal.”
Kirby grins, and her hips give a satisfied wiggle. “Is it weird that I find that flattering?”
“Not weird at all.” I wince, fingers digging deeper into her ass as her hips continue to twitch from side to side. “Though, I’m starting to think you might have been a cat in your last life. And that maybe I was, too, because this little tail wag thing is really doing it for me.”
“Speaking of cats, I should put out some fresh food for Murder before we go.” She leans in, arms going around my neck as she rocks harder against where I’m already plenty happy to see her. “And I want to put on my sparkly dress for you.” She kisses me, taking my breath away before she adds in a wicked whisper, “and torment you with glimpses of my side boob for the rest of the night.”
I groan. “Fuck, yes. Torment away, baby. I can’t wait.”
“Masochist,” she says, her swift inhalation becoming a giggle as I smack her ass. “What was that one for?”
“Because you’re bad, and I love it and—” I cut off mid-sentence, biting my lip with a groan as I pick her up, guiding her legs around my hips as I carry her toward the bedroom. “And I need a quickie,” I add, pretending it was what I planned to say all along, even though “I love you” almost slipped out of my mouth, and if it had, it wouldn’t have been a lie. “Just real fast, in and out, promise you won’t feel a thing.”
She laughs and murmurs in between kisses, “Oh yes, I will. I’m already feeling lots of things.” She sighs, her fingers threading into my hair. “I can’t wait to have you inside me again. I want you inside me all the time.”
“Every second of every day,” I agree, and then we’re on the bed, tearing at each other’s clothes and coming together with a perfection that shreds the last of my preconceived notions.
Either friends with benefits is what I’ve always wanted in a relationship, and I’ve just been too stupid to realize it, or this is what love is like—simpler and sweeter than I ever imagined.
And right and good and hot, God, so fucking hot I can barely believe I’m lucky enough to be in this body, in this bed, inside this woman who is my perfect fucking match.
Chapter Seventeen
Kirby
The crash is going to be awful. Going back to being just friends when all this is over is going to hurt like nothing I’ve ever felt before, but at the moment I’m too high on sex to care.
I float through my brief shower on a cloud of bliss and hum along to Colin’s strumming from the bedroom as I put on my makeup, not even minding for once that girl readiness takes so much longer than boy readiness or that eyeliner is my nemesis and getting it straight always takes at least five tries.
When you’ve come as many times as I have in the past twenty-four hours, no troubling thing is very troubling.
“I’ve lost track of how many orgasms I’ve had,” I murmur to Colin as we step into the elevator, my nerve endings humming as he teases fingers under the hem of my dress, tracing the line where my panties give way to butt cheek.
We’re alone in here, but even if we weren’t, I’m not sure I would care. I am past caring, surfing the Happy Sexy Fun Orgasm wave like the good times are never going to end.
“Seven if I was reading the signals correctly,” he says, nuzzling his face against my neck. “You go pink all over when you come. It’s my new favorite color.”
Nipples tightening, I turn his way with a smile. “I’ll buy you a pink shirt tomorrow.”
“Please do. I’ll wear it to dinner,” he says, fingers sliding beneath the elastic on my panties. “I made a reservation at Sinatra, by the way. Figured we’d need something special to celebrate the successful completion of our missions.”
“Or to drown our sorrows,” I remind him. “Shep might not be able to track down the P. Eater, our sex tape could be online by morning, and Regina could actually be pregnant.”
Colin scoffs as he takes the finger-teasing to its inevitable conclusion, gliding a finger into where I’m already wet, making my eyes flutter closed and my words emerge as a breathy whisper, “Stop. They probably have cameras in here.”
“That’s why I’m keeping my hand hidden beneath this naughty little skirt,” he murmurs into my ear. “This is a very bad dress, Larry. Lift your arms too high, and everyone on the dance floor is going to see these pretty panties.”
“That’s why I wore the sparkly ones,” I say, grinning as he pulls back to pin me with a disapproving glare.
“You’re a shameless hussy.”
“Says the guy who’s fingering me in the elevator.”
He smiles, wickedly, perfectly, and my heart break-dances in my chest, doing that head spin move that always seemed impossible before, but is now as easy as falling wildly in lust with my best friend.
Though, of course, it isn’t just lust. It’s other things, too, things that make me cup his cheek and whisper, “Sinful bastard,” in a tone that says, “You are everything I want, don’t ever leave me.”
Trouble. I’m asking for it, giving heartbreak a handwritten invitation, but I can’t seem to help myself.
Colin is gravity, a law of nature I can’t escape and wouldn’t want to.
He leans in, his lips moving closer to mine as his fingers take me closer, closer to the edge, only for the elevator to purr to a stop seconds before my knees go weak. Colin pulls his hand discreetly from under my clothes as two older ladies wearing black dresses and elaborate red hats hustle in, laughing loudly at some shared joke.
I suck in a breath and fan my face with one hand, fighting to pull myself together and look like I wasn’t just on the verge of orgasm.
The taller one does a double take before wiggling her fingers our way and asking, “Y’all having a good night?” in a thick Southern accent.
Before we can reply the shorter, stouter one hoots, “Of course they are, look at them. They’re young, beautiful, and in love.” Her gray eyes sparkle between us. “And headed somewhere fabulous, I bet. Dinner? Dancing?”
“Dancing,” Colin says, sliding his arm around my waist. “I’m going to try like hell to keep up with her.”
The taller woman laughs. “You do that, honey. And bring a stick to beat back all the other men.” She winks at me. “You look gorgeous, sweetheart. And I love your books. Scare me so bad I’m afraid to go to pee in the night without turning the light on and checking the shower and the toilet bowl for monsters first.”
I sputter out a laugh. “Well, thank you. I try.” I feel my cheeks going hot and can’t help but add, “This is only the second time I’ve ever been recognized.”
Both women make sounds of disbelief before the one who pegged me says, “I can’t believe that. The first time I saw your picture on a dust jacket, I thought to myself—that’s why y
ou don’t judge a book by its cover. Who would have thought that sweet little angel face had such a twisted mind sitting behind it?”
Colin laughs as the elevator door opens, and we move out into the lobby, our new friends waving goodbye as they join a group of other red-hatted, black-dress-wearing women and a man holding a “Haunted Vegas Night Tour” sign that’s intriguing. I can’t help peering at the group as we move toward the exit.
“Angel face. Twisted mind,” Colin says. “I should get that printed up on a T-shirt for you, Larry.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Oh, stop. I don’t have an angel face. She was just being nice. Angels don’t have noses and chins so sharp you could cut yourself on them if you’re not careful.”
Colin stops just outside the sliding glass doors, turning to me with a serious expression as the cool air rushes out behind us, ruffling my skirt. “Are you serious?”
“Of course. I do own a mirror you know.” I shrug. “But I don’t care.”
“Well, I do.” A frown bunches between his brows. “You’re beautiful. And anyone who’s ever told you different is a fucking idiot.”
“Okay. Thank you.” I shift in my heels, glancing over my shoulder, hoping we’re in someone’s way. But we’re not. The lobby is nearly empty, and the valet station in front of us is calm for the first time since our arrival, with just two attentive but tired-looking men standing at attention beside the desk.
“Why did that make you uncomfortable?” Colin asks, sticking his nose in, the way he always does when he catches wind of something I don’t want to talk about.
“Why are you so comfortable asking uncomfortable questions?” I counter.
“Born that way,” he says. “And probably poor boundaries, but boundaries are overrated. Especially with people you care about. Why should I ignore your weirdness and let you keep believing dumb things about yourself?”
“Maybe because the fucking idiot is me, Colin,” I say, voice shakier than I expect it to be. I take a breath and add in a lighter tone, “No one ever told me I was a troll person except me, okay? I did it to myself. Since I was a kid.”
He threads his fingers through mine and shakes his head. “Not true, Larry. Kids don’t come out thinking they’re troll people. Someone teaches them that, maybe not with what they say, but with what they don’t.”
With my ribs in an emotional vice, I look up at the giant chandelier hanging from the ceiling of the covered drive, pretending to be interested in the artistry as I nod. “You could have something there, I guess.”
“You think?” he asks dryly.
“But it’s not a big deal,” I say, willing myself not to tear up. I refuse to mess up my eyeliner because Colin makes me feel my stupid feelings the way no one else ever does. “Seriously. I don’t care about looks that much, anyway.”
“Fine.” He shrugs and tightens his grip on my hand. “Then I’ll care about it for you. I’m going to tell you you’re beautiful every day, Kirbs. Every day until I know that you believe me. So just fucking prepare yourself.”
I shift my stinging gaze to him with a sigh. “Well, that’s going to be obnoxious. But I guess you gotta do what you gotta do.”
He grins and says, “I love you, too,” and it’s all I can do not to start bawling my eyes out right there.
But thankfully, the car Colin ordered upstairs pulls up to the curb before the waterworks can get started. Before I can throw my arms around Colin’s neck and confess that I love him, too, but that I’ve gone and messed up our easy, breezy thing by getting too much of myself involved.
He’s more than my kindred-spirit friend. He’s my brain’s favorite sparring buddy, my vagina’s most treasured companion, and such a big chunk of my heart that if he were ever cut out of it, I’m not sure I’d survive the separation.
“Ready to take this bad dress out for a good time?” he asks, nodding toward the car.
“Ready.” I sniff away my tears and force fear and worry into the shower and pull the curtain. They’ll be there, waiting to jump out and hack me to bits when this is all over, but tonight is not that night.
“But seriously, I think you should stay at the bar while I talk to Regina,” he says, lifting a hand to the driver before opening the back door for me. “This dress is going to need a bodyguard on the dance floor. I’m not comfortable leaving it or you alone in a crowd.”
I roll my eyes as I slide into the cool car, but say, “Yes, sir.”
Colin makes a happy growling sound as he dips in behind me. “And we’ll do that later. You can be the naughty school girl who disobeyed the dress code, and I’ll be the stern headmaster who’s going to teach her a lesson about wearing short skirts.”
I giggle as he pulls me closer and press a finger to his lips as the driver pulls out of the drive. “Okay, but hush. The first rule of kinky playtime is we don’t talk about kinky playtime in public.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, nipping at my finger, the feel of his teeth dragging across my skin making butterflies swarm low in my body. “I really hope tonight has a happy ending. I’d much rather head home with you knowing I’m not going to have to figure out some way to keep Regina from drinking during her pregnancy and fucking up our kid.”
I brush his hair from his forehead. “Me, too. But it comes to that, we’ll figure something out. Together.”
“Together,” he echoes, looking happy about it.
If only he meant it the way I do. But he doesn’t. I keep reminding myself of that as he snuggles me close, kissing my forehead as we zip down the strip, the lights a blur and his heartbeat strong and steady beneath my cheek.
Chapter Eighteen
Colin
I’m in love with Larry.
I’m in love with Larry, and I told her I was in love with her, and she blew it off because she thought I meant friend love.
But I didn’t. I meant that I want to tell her she’s beautiful every night before we go to bed and first thing when we wake up in the morning. I meant that I want to patch up all the places in her heart that her mother scratched up so she can see herself the way I see her—as one-in-a-million.
My one-in-a-million, because no man is ever going to appreciate every spooky, quirky, kind, creative, thoughtful, sexy, brave part of her the way I will.
I’m going to have to clear up the misunderstanding, take a gulp and a breath, and hurl myself off the ledge into the great unknown hoping she’ll catch me.
But first, to find out if I’m going to have a baby with another woman…
I wouldn’t blame Kirby for not being on board for a situation like that. I’m not sure Kirby even wants kids. It’s not something we’ve ever talked about, but I wouldn’t be surprised to learn children aren’t on her wish list. She spent her childhood cleaning up her mother’s messes while being a surrogate parent to Bridget. She might very well want to spend her adulthood just taking care of herself and a shitload of cats.
I turn to her, about to ask what she thinks about kids, but swallow the words at the last second.
“What’s up?” she asks, reaching for the car door handle.
“Nothing.” I lift a hand to the driver. “Thanks for the ride.”
“No worries,” the young guy says with a yawn. “You guys should check out the exhibit if you get the chance. Super cool old stuff. I think this is the last night for it.”
“Will do,” I say as I step out behind Kirby.
“What exhibit?” She takes the hand I hold out, making my heart do goofy, not-just-friends things in my chest as she threads her fingers through mine.
“No idea. I was just trying to get rid of him. I’m a little distracted.”
She nods, shaking my arm gently as she exhales. “Understandable, but you’ve got this. And I can come with you if you want.”
I shake my head as we start up the wide, curving staircase leading to the second floor of the Cairo hotel, an Egyptian themed behemoth that recently got a swanky facelift and opened one of the hottest clubs on the s
trip. “No, you should wait at the bar. I’d love to have you there, but Regina clearly sees you as a threat.”
“I am pretty threatening,” Kirby says dryly before adding in a monotone, “Growl. Snarl. Snap. Grr.”
“Terrifying,” I agree with a smile.
“Speaking of terrifying, I’m not going to drink any more tonight. After last night’s debauchery under the porch, I want to keep things respectable.”
“Good idea. I’ll follow your example.” Staying sober is also an excellent way to keep from spitting out premature romantic confessions. I point to the coffee shop tucked into a corner behind a bank of slot machines at the top of the stairs. “You want to grab a coffee, then? And I can come back for you when I’m finished?”
“No way,” she scoffs. “I want to be up in da club, fam, getting turnt.”
I hold out a hand, covering her face. “Stop. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
“What?” She giggles. “That slang was on point, bae.”
“Awful,” I insist, as she pulls my arm down. Even though I would happily be her Before Anyone Else. “You sound like an alien. Or my mother.”
Her brows snap together. “Wow. Can we get a RIP in the chat for poor Katherine. Your mom is the most Gucci lady I know, dude. Not cool.”
“Speaking of cool, are you going to be warm enough?” I cast a pointed glance at her arms, where the little blond hairs are standing on end. “The air conditioning is working overtime in here.”
“I’ll be fine. Especially once we start dancing.” She curls her fingers around my bicep, staying close as we weave through the last of the poker tables and step into the glass elevator that will whisk us up to Elevation, the strip’s current “cool kid” club. “And I bet they have tea or coffee at the bar. If I get too chilly, I grab one and warm up while I wait for you.”
The Bangover Page 12
