by Anna Durand
"Elena is my BFF. We're like this." Why haven't I let go of his hand yet? I pull my palm away from his so I can link the fingers of both hands in a locking gesture. "We're tight. Inseparable. I mean, except for the past nine months when I was in Ecuador with the Peace Corps."
"That's an admirable thing to do."
I shrug. "I wanted to see the world, so I joined up. All I ever saw was Ecuador."
He scratches the back of his neck, wincing slightly. "Sorry I scared you. Elena said I'd have the place to myself."
"The Linwoods have definitely got some crossed wires going on."
Damn, Reese is hot. And sexy. I love his blue eyes and his muscular body and that panty-melting accent.
I smile, swinging my hands at my sides. "Elena mentioned you've never been to America before."
"That's right. My brother has lived here for a long time, but I never got round to visiting him."
"Well then." I spread my arms wide and grin. "Welcome to the United States of America and to New York City."
He chuckles, and his smile is so unbelievably sexy and cute. "Thank you. I feel at home already."
I move closer, standing on my toes to look him in the eye and give him my best deadpan expression. Time to test this guy to make sure he's not an asshat or a total player. "New York is awesome, but there are a few things to watch out for. Cabbies will be obnoxious. It's their way. Never buy a falafel from a street vendor who has facial hair. Never have a mixed drink, unless you want to get roofied." I lean in more, my nose almost brushing his. "And watch out for the greys. They'll sneak up on you while you're sleeping, so keep a can of mace by your bed."
Reese looks confused.
Good. That's an essential part of the test.
"Oh," I say, popping upright and holding up a finger, "I almost forgot. Never flush the toilet on a Tuesday before eight a.m."
"I see. I appreciate the advice."
He's still adorably confused.
I nod, satisfied that I've set the test in motion. Reese seems like the perfect candidate for popping my cherry, but I need confirmation that he really is a decent guy like Elena says. I wander off to my bedroom to give him time to wonder about all the kooky things I said.
Ten minutes later, I move on to stage two of the test.
I grab a piece of aluminum foil that I found in the closet earlier---why Elena left that there, I have no idea---and dash out into the hall.
Reese halts, his eyes flying wide. He's carrying a suitcase, obviously headed for the other bedroom.
"Here," I say, offering him the aluminum foil. "You might want to sleep with that over your head to keep the microwaves from altering your brain chemistry. The waves are strongest at night."
Reese Dixon eyes me like I've grown a pair of spiky purple horns. "Thank you. It's kind of you to look out for my brain chemistry."
I ogle his body for two seconds, my mouth watering when I notice how big that bulge in his pants is, then I spin around and trot back into my room. Shutting the door, I lean back against it and sigh. Wow, he's hot. He hasn't run away yet, despite my wacky behavior. And I need to get laid and lose my virginity. Like, now.
Lucky me, I've got a hunky Brit sleeping right across the hall.
Maybe my sexual adventure begins right now.
Reese's Version
One Hot Roomie
Chapter Two
I stand in the hallway for a minute, maybe longer, after Arden sashays into her room and shuts the door. I'm still holding the length of aluminium foil she gave me. Microwaves? Brain chemistry? Earlier, she talked about "greys," whatever the bloody hell those are, and urged me to avoid buying falafels from anyone with facial hair.
She's clearly insane. But she's also the sexiest girl I have ever laid eyes on. Those plaid knickers... Christ, I want to rip them off. First, I'll need to knock on her bedroom door and ask if I can please fuck her mindless.
Instead, I behave like a mature adult and fantasize about Arden's body while I stow my suitcase in the other bedroom. When I go back into the living room, my mobile chimes to let me know I have a text. I drop onto the sofa and read the message. It's from Elena.
How are you getting along with Arden? she asks.
Brilliantly. She's barmy, but I plan to shag her anyway.
What I actually tell Elena is Arden seems very nice.
She is. We're on the plane, talk to you later.
I think she's saying goodbye, but then I get another text: Promise you're giving up your shag-an-American idea.
The word shag clues me in to the fact Chance has commandeered Elena's mobile. Naturally, I have to get snarky about his statement. Don't worry, Elena, I'm saving myself for you.
Very funny, you sodding arsehole.
A smiley face appears on a new line, and I'm sure Elena added that.
Goodbye, Chance, I type with a smile on my face but not in my text message.
Movement catches my eye, and I glance at the hallway.
Arden is walking toward me wearing pink shorts and a T-shirt with an alien face on it.
"There you are, Luscious," I say, because she is luscious in every way. "Did you finally remember why you came into the living room the first time?"
"Yes. I'm hungry."
She sashays past me without glancing my way. I watch as she goes into the kitchen and opens the refrigerator to examine its contents. Her sweet arse looks incredible in those shorts.
I follow her into the kitchen, coming up alongside her, and peer into the fridge. "Don't you have any biscuits?"
"Do you see any cookies? I'm not hiding them in my undies."
Her mention of undies makes me glance at her arse, though she's too busy perusing the items in the fridge to notice.
I smile. "You know what biscuits are. Damn that Chance. How can I confuse you the way he did with Elena if you already know all the British words? It's not fair at all."
"Trust me, I'm plenty confused."
"But I meant to charm you with my Britishisms." I examine her skimpy shorts, letting my gaze travel up her sexy body to her slightly oversize T-shirt and its alien face. But it's her lovely, round tits that command all my attention. "I want to charm the fuck out of you, Luscious."
And fuck the fuck out of her too.
"My name is Arden." She hooks a finger under my chin, lifting it to drag my attention away from her tits. "Arden Clover Pesti. Not Luscious. Got it?"
"If you insist."
"Thank you."
Luscious seems much more appropriate to me, although Arden is close to ardent, a word that means passionate. I bet she's a fantastic shag.
I jam my hands in my jeans pockets and peer into the fridge again. All I see is beer and hummus. Oh, there's some yogurt. Christ, don't they have any real food here? "How can a girl who sleeps with aluminium foil on her head be so uptight?"
"Alu-what? I guess that's British for aluminum foil. I'm not uptight. But I don't know you, and nicknames are things friends or relatives give each other."
"Fair point." I shut the fridge. "I'll hold off on calling you Luscious."
"I appreciate that. Now, do you like pizza?"
"Yes, I love it. Love a good takeaway, full stop."
"Takeaway's British for takeout, right?"
"Yes."
"Okeydokey." She turns toward the bar, where I see a landline phone. "I'll order some pizza."
I excuse myself to go unpack and change into different clothes. Why, I have no bloody idea. Maybe I just feel dirty, and not in the way I like to feel dirty, after my long plane ride to America. I put on my England Rugby shirt and a pair of pajama trousers, then I return to the living room. Arden and her sexy little body are sitting at one end of the sofa, so I settle onto the opposite end.
She points at my shirt. "Guess you're a rugby fan."
"Yes, but I also played rugby at school."
"Let me guess. You were the star player."
I shru
g. Star player? Girls used to call me something like that, but only so they could climb inside my shorts. "Maybe I was, but it's a team sport. Couldn't have won games by myself."
"Is rugby like soccer?"
"Similar, but with differences. And we call that other sport football, not soccer." I glance down at my clothes. "I almost wore my Manchester United shirt."
Arden looks so adorably confused that I want to kiss her. Everywhere. Starting with that luscious mouth.
"Manchester United," I tell her, "is a football team."
"And by football, you mean soccer."
Huffing, I roll my eyes. "No, I mean football. You Americans have a bloody stupid idea of what that word means."
"And you Brits are so damn arrogant about your sports. I mean, it's only a game."
"Only a game? Don't tell Kyle you said that. He worships American football and is obsessed with stock car racing."
"Yeah, I know. That's why I've never dated Kyle, besides the fact he's my best friend's brother."
She props her feet on the coffee table, crossing her ankles.
I rake my gaze all the way down her body to her shapely little feet with their bright-red nails and then back up again. "Please tell me you were joking about being a virgin. You said that to stop me from attacking you, right?"
"Not completely. I am a virgin."
Bollocks. I can't sleep with a virgin. Can I? Some part of my brain insists it must be wrong, but I ignore that advice. "Does Elena know that?"
"That I'm a virgin? Yeah. My family knows too, since we talk about pretty much everything."
I can't resist giving her a wicked smirk. "Do you want to stay a virgin? Because I'm the best first time you'll ever have."
"Not exactly humble, though, are you?" She leans back and shakes her head. "Sorry, I've taken a vow to stay untouched until I meet the man I'm going to marry."
I sigh like I'm severely disappointed, and it's only part sarcasm. "What a shame."
"The right guy is worth waiting for."
"Hmm." I brace my elbow on the sofa's back, raising my hand to rest my chin on it. "Who is your perfect man?"
"Don't know. Someone who treats me with respect and love. A man who adores me. You know, the kind who always considers my feelings and does whatever he can to make me feel appreciated and loved."
"You want a gay man, then?"
"No." She scowls, but even that turns me on. "I want a good man."
"I'm very good. Ask any of the girls I've been with."
"Sex isn't part of the formula for a good man. I mean, I want to have sex with the guy I marry, but that's not the most important thing."
"You really are barking mad."
"Excuse me? I'm quirky, not crazy."
"Oh, don't get me wrong." I scoot a little closer, lowering my voice. "I'd love to get a leg over with you. And I guarantee you'll be glad you gave up your innocence to become a sinner with me. I do sin better than anyone."
"Thank you for the offer, but I'm good the way I am."
"Yes, I agree. You are perfect, lush---" I cut myself off and frown. "Is it all right if I call you darling? Or is that too close to the word I'm not allowed to use?"
She stares at me for a moment, then waves her hand. "Go on. Call me Luscious."
I grin. "Thank you."
"Whatever."
The doorbell rings, and I jump off the sofa to get our food. I carry the large pizza box back to the sofa and sit down while I set the box on the table. I flip the lid up. "They must've bollocksed up the order."
Arden shimmies closer to the sofa's edge, rubbing her hands together and humming with hungry delight. "Mm, yummy. They got it exactly right."
"But this isn't pizza." I lift a slice of the...whatever this is. Not pizza, that's for sure. "No cheese. No meat. It's some sort of pastry crust with what looks like applesauce all over it."
"Yep. It's an apple strudel pizza." She grabs a slice and takes a bite, moaning like she's having an orgasm from the taste of it. Swallowing, she says, "Try some. It's the most delicious thing I've ever put in my mouth."
I stare at the barmy girl sitting beside me. Her moans and the sensual tone of her voice have flipped a switch inside me that diverts all the blood in my body to my cock.
"What's wrong?" she asks. "Don't you like strudel?"
"I love it." My voice has gotten huskier thanks to her erotic enjoyment of strudel pizza. "But I'd rather devour you."
"No sex. Remember? I'm staying a virgin until---"
"Then you shouldn't consume dessert pizza like you're about to climax." I drop my slice and inch closer to her. "A bloke only has so much willpower, you know."
Arden stares at me for a second, then leaps off the sofa and rushes into the kitchen to get a can of beer. As she passes the sofa, she snags three pieces of pizza and slaps them onto her plate. Then she races into her bedroom.
I need to get her naked. Tonight.
But she's a virgin, so I eat the rest of the apple strudel pizza and go into my bedroom like a good little boy.
Chapter One
Rika
How can a man who designs sex toys for a living be so awkward around women? I work for the hottest guy on the planet, who has the hottest British accent on the planet, but I might as well be a robot sitting behind this desk for all the attention he gives me. Dane Dixon can barely look me in the eye, and as for conversation... Jeez, it's like watching a blind biker roaring down a curvy road on his Harley. You just know he's about to careen off the edge and go splat.
But damn, he's one sexy wreck.
This morning is no different. I'm waiting patiently at my desk for my boss to arrive---as his personal assistant, I make it a point to get here before him---when Dane walks out of the elevator and straight to my desk. Head down, he seems focused on the issue of Forbes magazine he's holding in one hand.
"Good morning, Miss Solberg," he says. When he glances at me for half a second, he swallows hard and resorts to staring at his magazine again. "Do I have any pointers---uh, I mean, appointments today?"
"Yes, Mr. Dixon. Today's agenda is already on your desk." Like it has been every day for the past twelve business days since I started working for him.
"Oh. Of course." He swallows again, his Adam's apple jumping. "Let me know when---if I, uh, have...calls or whatnot."
"I will." Rising from my chair, I tug my jacket down. "May I get you a cup of coffee, Mr. Dixon?"
"Yes. Thank you, Miss Solberg. One sugar, no cream."
He always tells me that, like I don't know how he likes his coffee after twelve business days with him.
Not once has he ever called me Rika. I told him he could, but he said it wasn't "professional." He also never smiles at me. I long to see his smile because I'm pretty sure it will be devastating. I'd love to hear him laugh too, but no, he never does that either.
Is he always like this with women?
Dane rakes a hand through his dirty-blond hair. The light glints on his glasses, so I can't see his eyes. But I know they're gorgeous. I got a good look at them on my first day here, when he'd taken his glasses off to clean them. He has deep-blue eyes that I'd love to gaze into for hours while his body is above mine and his hips are thrusting into me.
I haven't had sex in months. Working for a hot guy who ignores me is sure to drive me bonkers.
"Do I have a meeting with Celeste today?" Dane asks.
Wow, he got out a complete sentence with no "uhs" or "ums." I feel like I should mark this momentous day on my calendar.
He does seem kind of sweet, in an uptight way.
"Yes, sir," I tell him. "Ms. Arnaud is coming at ten."
He nods, head bowed. "Thank you."
Then he hurries into his office and shuts the door.
And I wonder again if he's like this with all women or just me. I've only seen him talking to men, so it will be interesting to find out how he interacts with Celeste Arnaud, the CEO of Bonso
ir Beauty Inc., which owns Dane's company. He signed a deal with Bonsoir six months back, and now he's spending some time in New York at the company headquarters to prepare for the re-launch of his brand of sexual wellness devices.
That's about all I know. And I found that out from Celeste Arnaud's PA, who gave me the grand tour of the headquarters and dished about all the good gossip. Not that I like to gossip. But it's the only way I could find out anything about my new boss. My friends Elena and Arden know Dane, but they haven't said much about him. He has two brothers, but I didn't learn that fact from office gossip. I've met Dane's brothers, because they're married to Elena and Arden, though I hadn't met Dane himself until I started working here.
I trot down the hall to the break room and get two cups of coffee, one with cream and sugar for me and one with just sugar for him. After that, I hurry back to my desk, dropping my coffee off there. When I knock on the door to Dane's office, he invites me in, so I swing the door open and waltz up to his desk. As I set his cup down in front of him, he glances up at me.
For about a nanosecond.
"Thank you, Miss Solberg," he mutters.
And then he goes back to staring at the papers on his desk.
I've just sat down at my desk again when the phone rings. I answer with my standard professional greeting. "Dane Dixon's office. This is Rika Solberg speaking. How may I help you?"
"Hey, girlfriend, how's the new job going?"
I feel better already after hearing my friend's voice. Elena Linwood, now Elena Dixon, married my boss's older brother. Elena and I met a month before she hooked up with Chance Dixon, but we hadn't become good friends until after that. I'd missed their wedding because my appendix decided the day before the big day was a good time for it to explode. Elena had introduced me to Arden, who married Reese Dixon, but I missed that event too. A hurricane grounded all flights that time.
"Elena," I say, relaxing in my chair. "How's your hot husband? Are you wearing him out?"
"This is me you're talking to, not Arden. I give my hubby time to recover in between sex marathons. Poor Reese never gets a break."
Yeah, Arden is very...ardent. But Reese never seems exhausted to me.
