The Varlet and the Voyeur

by L.H. Cosway

  I could only watch her, feeling repentant and . . . frustrated with myself.

  She was making little sounds now as the laughter receded, her eyes watery with tears of hilarity. “Oh my God. I can’t—” She lifted the sex toy, looking at it like she didn’t know how or why it was in her hand. “That is hilarious.”

  I grimaced. “Josey. I’m so sorry. I hope you can accept my apology.”

  Her gaze cut to mine as she lowered the Pyrex figure back to her side. Though her smile didn’t wane, her eyes told me she was confused. “You’re sorry?”

  “Yes.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “For scaring me?”

  “Yes, of course. But also for coming in here uninvited and assuming”—I pushed my fingers through my hair—“assuming I would be welcome.”

  She studied me for a moment, the confusion lingering behind her eyes before they dropped to my T-shirt and arms, and then lower to my stomach, and then lower still to where my shorts hung on my hips, no camouflage at all for the painful erection tenting my shorts.

  Her smile fell away, her brows ticked up as her eyes widened, and her lips parted in surprise.

  “Oh my.”

  I scratched the back of my neck.

  Josey gazed at me with something that looked like wonder. “You came in here thinking that we would—that we were going to—that I—”

  “I don’t know what I was thinking,” I answered honestly. I was not embarrassed. I was pissed. At myself. “And I’ll just—” I reached for the doorknob, turning away as I stepped out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

  After our conversation last night, I’d woken up feeling so great. I’d felt invincible, which had only been compounded by the endorphins released after a three-hour run.

  But I knew better. I didn’t have wings. I wasn’t invincible.

  And I needed a glass of water, maybe four. And a shower. And relief for this raging hard-on in my shorts. Marching to the kitchen, I tossed the flowers to the counter and retrieved a glass, filling it at the sink and downing it in just a few swallows.

  Seriously, I needed to get my head on straight. I’d just invaded her bathroom—uninvited—and scared Josey half to death. I hadn’t taken a second to think about my actions. I’d broken my rules last night, and things had ended in my favor. I’d been riding that wave since, and now I’d just crashed and burned.

  Weary and sore, I needed food and a nap. I’d run too far this morning. But even so, tired and aching, I still wanted her. Apparently, I wanted her so badly, common sense and decency had happily abandoned me as soon as I heard her moan.

  When I walked into the kitchen after my shower, Josey was there. She stood at the center kitchen island, drinking from a mug and eyeballing the flowers—still in their paper wrapper—where they lay untouched on the counter.

  I hesitated, not knowing what to do. I wanted to kiss her, wrap her in my arms and lift her skirt, but after what had just happened, I doubted she wanted me anywhere near her.

  My chest ached, and it had nothing to do with the punishing early morning run.

  She glanced up from the roses and met my stare. I was relieved when she gave me a warm smile.

  “You weren’t kidding.”

  “What?” To keep myself from touching Josey, I crossed to the fridge, opened it, and looked without seeing the contents within.

  “You were serious, last night, when you proposed the friends with benefits arrangement.”

  Glancing over my shoulder, I studied her. “Of course I was serious.”

  “Well, obviously, I know that now.” She waved her hand in the air.

  “What did you think?” I let the fridge close behind me, giving her my full attention.

  “I thought you were drunk, and maybe you’d regret everything this morning.”

  “I wasn’t and I don’t,” I said firmly, not liking that this was her first assumption. “But if you regret it, or feel as though I’ve acted inappropriately, then you have to—”

  “Stop it with the inappropriate talk, don’t bring it up again. As I said, I’m ecstatic about last night’s revelations.” She held her hands up. “And clearly I now know that you were serious. But that means we have to discuss it.”

  “Discuss it?” I asked, honestly curious where she was going with this.

  “For one thing, the agreement was that the arrangement would be limited to the trip to Australia. At least, that’s what we agreed to over fish and chips.”

  She was right, we’d agreed to start in Australia.

  I stared at her, at how clinical she sounded, like we were discussing something academic. I should have been grateful. But the truth was, my body was still primed for her. I wanted her with an unfamiliar desperation, now if possible. I wanted to lift her up on the kitchen counter and fuck her senseless.

  And Josey wanted to discuss it.

  Crossing my arms, I cleared my features of any telling expression. “Fine. Let’s discuss terms, rules, and expectations. I want to start now.”

  She considered me for a moment, her gaze narrowing. “Now until the end of the Australian trip?”

  I nodded.

  She made a face. “No. I think we should wait until the trip and it should be limited only to the trip.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we live here. Together. And not as boyfriend and girlfriend. We live here as mates, friends. Actually, technically, this is my workplace.”

  That made me cringe. She was right.

  Josey was quick to add, “And don’t start with the apologies again. I’ve got on my power panties. I get to decide what I want for myself, so no more of that. It’s just that, if we start things here, then it’ll make things weird when we stop. It’ll be like, ‘Oh. Look. That’s the couch we had sex on, and the table we had sex on, and the floor we had sex on.’ I don’t know if that would make things awkward for you, but it definitely would made things awkward for me. And if there’s one thing I’m an expert on, it’s awkward.”

  As usual, she’d whispered the word sex each time she used it.

  When I swallowed, my throat was tight, but I nodded. “All right. That makes sense. We won’t do anything here.”

  “Good.” She picked up her mug again and took a sip.

  “Anything else?” I didn’t understand myself. Usually I was the one insisting on rules, they gave me a sense of control, comfort. I’d always needed to know what to expect. But for some reason, right now, I found this conversation exasperating.

  She swallowed, and then said on a rush, “No kissing.”

  I stiffened, staring at her. “Uh, what?”

  Josey gathered a large breath, her eyes jumping between mine. “I’ve been thinking, and I believe we shouldn’t kiss. In all the movies where people do this—the no feelings thing—they never kiss on the mouth. And, you know, I’ve been thinking a lot about it since last night and I think it’s an idea that has merit. Like you always say, rules and boundaries are good. They keep us safe and our expectations from hurting us. We’re only human, right? So the no kissing boundary feels like a good one.”

  She ran out of breath and leaned heavily against the counter, as though the words had taken great effort to say.

  Meanwhile, I was stunned, and that sense of vertigo from last night—where my stomach dropped—had returned. “You don’t want me to kiss you?”

  She made a face. “Of course I want you to kiss me, but the point is I don’t think we should. Sex is sex is sex is sex, but kissing . . .” Her eyes searched mine, maybe looking for acceptance of this new rule, or a spark of understanding.

  I gave her neither.

  Instead, my gaze dropped to her perfect lips and a flare of intense regret speared right through me. I should have kissed her last night, I should have kissed her just now.

  Eventually, she huffed. “No kissing. And nothing before Australia. Do you still want to do this?”

  Gritting my teeth, I inhaled, I exhaled, I nodded. “Whatever y
ou want.”

  “Okay.” She nodded, but her voice was small, unhappy.

  She was unhappy and I definitely didn’t want to make her unhappy.

  “Josey.”

  “Yeah?” She peeked at me warily over the rim of her mug.

  I felt my chest ease, then tighten as I looked at her, at her guileless yet cautious expression. I didn’t know why I was behaving this way. She was right. We needed to set boundaries.

  I softened my tone. “Whatever you want. I want you to be happy, okay? And, you’re right. Rules are good.”

  She nodded, studying me, her lips twisting to the side.

  “Is there anything else?” I asked gently.

  Josey set her cup down and, staring at me, ticked items off on her fingers. “So, nothing in this apartment. No kissing on the lips. Also, no romance or romantic stuff, so we probably shouldn’t hold hands either, or sleep in the same bed.”

  I felt my blood pressure rise with each item on her list. I swallowed it down.

  What the hell?

  At this point, I was seriously considering calling the whole thing off. If I couldn’t kiss her, if I couldn’t even hold her hand, did I want to do this at all?

  “Anything else?” My voice was impressively dispassionate, even for me.

  Her gaze moved over me, she looked completely oblivious to my irritation. “Both of us should have a safe word.”

  That gave me pause. “A safe word?”

  “Yes.” She nodded enthusiastically. “I’d like to tie you up, lick stuff off your body, blindfold you, if that’s okay. And do other things, too.”

  “You would?” My blood pressure spiked again, but for a completely different reason. Wait, why was I upset a minute ago?

  “Oh yeah,” she grinned, wagging her eyebrows. “I have plans!”

  Plans.

  Okay. So, maybe I didn’t need to kiss her. Or hold her hand. Or sleep with her.

  Did I?

  I was torn. I wanted both. I wanted it all.

  Common sense decided on that moment to speak up. You could always just date her for fun, see where it goes . . .

  A shiver originating at the top of my skull and snaking down my spine had me standing straighter. A forceful, panicked No! reverberated between my ears.

  No.

  I couldn’t date—I wouldn’t be able to have sex with her while we dated—unless she agreed to a commitment, to something long term. She didn’t want long term. She’d made that perfectly clear.

  And, if I were honest with myself, I was relieved. I liked Josey a lot. I wanted Josey, also a lot. But I wasn’t at all sure about marrying her.

  This is better. This makes sense. The rules will keep you both safe.

  “Okay.” I nodded. “But I have a few rules, too.”

  Josey’s eyebrows ticked up. “You do?”

  “I do.”

  “Okay, shoot.” She didn’t look irritated or concerned, only interested.

  I let my eyes drop to her breasts, stomach, lower, and then back to hers, remembering the way she clutched the towel to herself in the shower. “I don’t want you to hide your body from me.”

  Her gaze turned thoughtful. “You want me naked all the time in Australia?”

  Yes.

  “When it’s just the two of us, in the hotel room, yes.”

  She tilted her head to one side, then the other, her bottom lip pushed out like she was considering this.

  “Okay. Fine. That’s fair. As long as you do the same.”

  “Agreed. And—”

  “There’s more?” She grinned, her eyes bright.

  “Birth control. I will buy—”

  “Yes! How could I forget to bring that up? You should know, I’m on the pill.”

  That stopped me. “You are?”

  “Yes. For period irregularities, if you must know. The pill helps so much, with the pain and keeping my womanly processes regular.”

  I tried not to look too discombobulated, and I was pretty sure I succeeded when her smile didn’t waver.

  When I was able to speak, I said, “I will use a condom.”

  A wrinkle appeared between her brows. “Why? I promise you, I’m clean. I can go get tested again if you want. And I’m pretty sure you’re spic-and-span, seeing as how you’ve been celibate for years. You are, right?”

  “R-right—”

  “Then there we are. All settled.” She sipped from her mug, but then moved it away abruptly as though a thought had just occurred to her. “Unless you want to wear a condom, then that’s totally cool with me.”

  I felt lightheaded at the thought of taking her sweet body, entering her without any barriers, but managed to say, “No. No condom is fine.”

  “Good.”

  On an impulse, I added, “You’ll be my d—my plus one, to events.”

  “Hmm.” Now she frowned, but eventually said, “Okay.”

  “And I want to tie you up.”

  She grinned again. “I was hoping you would. My safe word is Rolodex.”

  Rolodex? “Rolodex?”

  Josey didn’t miss a beat. “It needs to be a word you don’t use very often. Something jarring that can’t be mistaken for anything else. What would you like yours to be?”

  That did make sense. I thought a second, then said, “Combine harvester.”

  Josey chuckled loudly. “Oh man, that’s even better than mine.”

  I laughed, too, relaxing for the first time since I opened her bathroom door earlier. “I’m a farm boy at heart.”

  She shot me a wink and came around to pat me on the shoulder. “Well, farm boy, I can’t wait to get you to work.”

  Uh…

  Before I’d recovered from that statement, Josey downed the rest of her tea and set her mug in the sink, breezing out of the room and calling over her shoulder, “I’m taking Rocky for a walk. If you think of anything else, just make a list and we can discuss before movie night. I hope you like Simon Pegg films.”

  Not a minute later, the front door closed and she was gone.

  She wants you to tie her up.

  I exhaled, leaning heavily on the center kitchen island and staring at nothing in particular as flashes of images, possibilities, deep dark fantasies played a greatest hits reel through my mind, and she was the shining star of each.

  When my eyes refocused, they settled on a tightly bound assemblage of pink and red. I was staring at the roses I’d picked up for Josey after my run.

  They were still on the counter, untouched.

  Thirteen

  @JoseyInHeels: Today at work I met a cat called Katy Purry and I honestly think that’s the most inspired thing I’ve ever heard.

  @BroderickAdams to @JoseyInHeels: You obviously never met my childhood cat, Maximus Whiskerus Meridius