I give her a salacious grin. “Love. I love your ass. It’s spectacular.”
She slides her hand around to mine, kneading it too. “Back at you,” she says, then returns to my lips.
The press of her body against mine is incredible, but I want her under me. I flip her onto her back, then admire the view. Her lithe, lovely body. Her soft stomach. Her perky tits.
Right here for me to adore.
I bury my face between her breasts, sucking and licking feverishly while she cries out.
“Yes. Mmm. Love that.”
I love her mouth, her words, the way she talks back.
It’s fucking fantastic to be with a woman who tells you what she likes. Who’s unafraid to voice her desires, to ask for what she wants.
Her body’s damn good at communicating too. She’s rocking her hips, arching her back, making it clear she wants more.
After I worship at the altar of her breasts, I pull back, rise up, and take her in.
This is all I want. To be naked with London. To be here with her.
She runs her fingers along my chest, then trails them down my arms with wild arousal in her eyes. Her fingernails dig gently into my flesh, sending shivers of pure bliss coursing through my body.
When she reaches the tattoo on my left arm, her breath hitches and her eyes glaze.
“I finally get to see the tattoo,” she purrs playfully.
“I knew you could convince me.”
“What does it mean to you? Why did you have it done?”
“It’s a Celtic trinity knot. Body, mind, spirit,” I say, guiding her hand over each point. “A reminder to stay in balance. Though the ‘body’ part is kinda dominating right now.”
“That is—” she begins, but I don’t let her finish. I kiss her again, hard, taking her lower lip between my teeth.
My cock throbs, my chest heats, and I’ve never known arousal like this before.
I move off her, wedge myself next to her, and slide a hand between her legs as I seek out her heat. My fingers glide over her pussy, and she gasps, bows her back, and whispers, “Will you fuck me with your fingers first?”
Will I?
More like Can I please do everything filthy and beautiful to you all night long?
But words aren’t easy to form with desire pulsing hard and fast in my body, taking over my mind.
I don’t need many though.
Just one.
“Yes.”
I run my fingers over her wetness, centering on her clit, seeking her pleasure. Her body responds to my touch but seems to beg for more too.
I give it to her as I slide a finger inside her, and she lets out the most delicious moan I’ve ever heard.
I add another finger, and she rocks into my hand as I press my palm to her swollen clit. She shakes, moaning words that urge me on as I touch her.
So good.
Yes.
God, yes.
She’s close, so damn close. I massage and rub as she grinds against my hand, my fingers, my palm.
Her legs tighten, and she cries out.
She doesn’t stop.
Her moans and groans echo through the air. I stroke her through her climax, slowing down as her noises ebb.
Then, gently I remove my hand, reach for a condom from the nightstand, and suit up. Her eyes are glossy, brimming with satisfaction as she watches me roll it on.
“I want you so much,” she murmurs.
“You have no idea how much I want you,” I whisper.
“I think I might,” she says, and I lower myself on top of her, rubbing the head of my cock over her glistening pussy.
She reaches a hand down, grabs the base of my cock, and guides me into her.
My eyes fall shut at the first intoxicating feel of her heat gripping me. I sink deeper, shuddering as her body takes me.
When I sink deeper still, we both tremble then groan at the same time.
This feels so fucking good.
“You,” I rasp.
But I don’t say anything more.
Because I am consumed with the electric intensity of being inside the woman I want.
“Yes,” she moans as I rock in and out to the rhythm of her moans and the pressure of her hands on my ass.
We’re fast at first, going hard and deep and desperate.
But soon, we slow. We take our time, enjoying each other, exploring the limits of our pleasure. I grind deep inside her, wanting to prolong the moment, the night. I lower myself to my forearms, getting closer, my chest against hers. She wraps her legs tighter around me, bringing me deeper too.
Burying my face in her neck, I inhale oranges, getting high off it. Her scent drives me wild, makes me thrust harder.
She moans, arching her back, liking this new speed.
“Don’t stop,” she whispers.
“No plans to.”
Her legs begin to quake. She’s close again. I am too, but I continue to savor each thrust.
With her fingernails digging into my back, she grips me harder, a plea for me to pick up the pace even more. I’m only too happy to oblige. I pump faster and harder, listening to the sounds of her moans, learning the language of her body.
One more drive into her, and she shakes and clenches, calling out a delirious oh God, yes, oh my fucking God.
Once her thighs lock and an orgasm overtakes her, my body follows hers into oblivion as I push impossibly deeper into her and explode.
For a moment, there is only stillness.
My body is taut, my mind calm, and I am bliss.
We inhale each other, and I relax against her tight body.
Slowly, I roll off of her, and she lets out a soft whimper.
Quickly, I take off the condom, toss it in a trash can in the bathroom, and return to her with a warm washcloth.
She’s still lying there, content, melting into the bed.
Already missing her contact, I join her. She takes the washcloth from me as I trail my hand across her sweat-glistened body to her inner thigh. Reluctantly, we come back to earth together, and I toss the washcloth into the hamper.
She sighs contentedly as my fingers trail along the goose bumps that dot her flesh. “Not gonna lie,” she moans, “I feel pretty damn lucky right now.”
“And I feel like we both won the good-guy challenge,” I say.
She smiles, soft and sex-drunk. “We both did. In multiple categories.”
I’m buzzing from the high of knowing I brought her pleasure—hell, from the sensation of my own pleasure.
So that’s great sex.
I finally found it.
Only, what made it so great is that I’m pretty sure I’m falling harder than I ever expected for London Hollis.
28
Early the next morning
From the Woman Power Trio, aka the text messages of London and her two besties, Olive and Emery
Olive: Soooooooooooooo . . .
Emery: *taps foot*
Olive: *waits, waits, waits*
Emery: *prepares to show up at Teddy’s place and demand details*
London: Oh, hi! It’s me! Waking up next to this guy I like.
Olive: I WANT ALL THE DETAILS.
Emery: AND NOW.
London: He has a tattoo.
Olive: Hot. Go on.
London: I spent the night. So did my dog. The sex was intense, the conversation incredible, and . . . I’m falling for him, and I’m pretty sure he’s falling for me too.
Olive: So basically all that stuff about him not wanting more because of your brother and blah, blah, blah is out the window?
London: Ummmmm, maybe?
Emery: Whoa. This is huge.
London: I know, right? And I’m going to have to say something to Archer soon . . . but I want to figure out what this is first.
Olive: Smart. But can we rewind to the hot sex stories first and then do the wedding registry?
London: He’s waking up. More later!
29
Wa
king up feels better than it has in a long time. It’s for two reasons, I’d wager.
First—the great-sex effect.
I had it last night, and it was fucking awesome.
Plus, the aftereffects last till dawn.
Who knew?
That should be on the list of side effects of great sex—you’ll still feel fantastic in the morning.
But there’s another reason.
An even better reason.
My arms are wrapped around London as my eyes open. It’s a helluva way to start a day—with London’s rear nestled against my groin.
Why, yes, I’ll avail myself of this side effect too, thank you very much.
London grinds her hips into me on a low moan, then reaches over to the nightstand and grabs a condom.
My hand on her hip slides gently toward her center, where she’s warm, wet, and just as ready for this as I am.
Taking the condom, I sheath myself and slide into her from behind, pumping slowly to give her time to accommodate my length.
With one of my hands cupping her breast, we move together under the covers, feeling each other from this new angle. It’s not long before we’re coming together, and it’s fantastic.
I always knew morning sex was going to be awesome. I’m glad to finally have the proof.
“And now, I’m hungry for food,” London murmurs.
“Ravenous,” I agree.
We get out of bed, brush our teeth—shout out to my dentist for the drawer full of unused toothbrushes—and leash up the dogs for a quick walk.
As I clip the leash on Bowie, my phone pings with an alert. Sliding my thumb across the screen, I grin as I read a response to Bloom’s Yelp review.
A request for another wedding booking. “Yes!”
“Let me guess. You got a coupon for a free scoop at McConnell’s today too?”
“That is indeed cause for celebration, but so’s this,” I say, showing her the review.
She beams, her whole face lighting up with pride. Damn, that looks good on her. And it feels good, too, to elicit that reaction. “Teddy, I am so excited for you,” she says in a way that hooks into my heart.
“Thanks. Me too. I’m stoked. I’ve had two new booking requests this morning from her review. So things are looking up.” I rap twice on the doorframe for luck.
“It’s not luck. You’re good at what you do.”
“So are you,” I say.
She blows on her fingernails as she wraps the dog’s leash around her other wrist. “Look at us. Making things happen. My routine is almost ready to present to Archer and the partners, and to use in my portfolio, and you’re on a fast track to becoming LA’s premiere wedding and event DJ,” she says.
When she puts it like that, everything feels possible.
Everything including being with her.
Perhaps that maybe someday isn’t so far away.
We leave with the dogs. On the landing, the rattling of pans from inside Sherri’s home reaches my ears, so I give the door a quick knock to see if Vin Scully needs a trip outside. Sherri hands her dog over in no time.
“Buenos días, oso,” she says, greeting me, and then she catches sight of London as she’s clipping Vin’s collar. “Oh, is this the guapa you were telling me about?”
“Sí, Sherri. Por favor, no me avergüences. This is London,” I say, and after a brief introduction and a suggestive smile from Sherri, my sleepover companion and I head down the hall.
“Guapa? Is that good or bad?” London asks.
“It means ‘beautiful.’ I told her that you are, because . . . duh. Then I asked her not to embarrass me.” A slight flush heats my cheeks.
“Too late,” London says with a smile.
Yeah, it’s too late for a lot of things.
Like turning back.
That’s both the good news and the bad news.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, we arrive at my favorite breakfast spot.
“House of Pies? I didn’t know it was dessert for breakfast day, but sign me up.”
“Far be it for me to tell you not to have pie for breakfast, but they do have other things on the menu. That’s where they get their name.” I point to a glorious glass case full of pies next to the register. It sparkles like a shrine to sugar.
We stand at the door, since Mr. Darcy is with us. A hostess swings by with an aww, cutie for the pooch, asking if we’re three or two.
“Two, and one under the table.”
“He’s so handsome,” she says to the dog.
“Thank you. He knows it too,” London says.
“Good for him. Body confidence is so important in this city.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” London says.
The hostess shows us to a table outside, where Mr. Darcy tucks himself under London’s seat.
Soon, the waiter swings by, offering coffee. We both nod, and he fills our cups. After we order a pair of egg white omelets and he takes off for the kitchen, I offer a toast.
“To great sex.”
“That’s awfully presumptuous of you, Mr. Lockhart.”
“Not complimenting myself. Complimenting you and the way you made me feel.”
She grins. “The feelings are indeed mutual. So there.”
“Good to know.”
“So . . .?” She leaves the unasked question dangling.
I grab hold of the opportunity. “We should do that again. And I mean the sex, but also everything else. Like this. Hanging out together the next morning. Going for dog walks. Listening to music. Talking. All of it.” I’m laying it all on the line, and nerves rise up in me.
But it’s worth facing those nerves.
Because I want what’s on the other side.
That’s the thing about great sex—it’s great because it’s not just sex.
It’s connection.
Intimacy.
Feelings.
I feel so much for this woman.
And I need to make room in my life for her. How to do that is another matter, but I’m determined to figure it out.
Especially since the universe is aligning and seems to be on my side.
If my event entertainment company can grow quickly, like it’s trending now, maybe I don’t need to worry about the risks of dating my boss’s sister.
Maybe he won’t be my boss for much longer.
He asked me to give him a heads-up about leaving. With gigs coming through, maybe that time is coming any day now. And sure, it’s a risk—I’d be walking away from a regular paycheck for a few gigs. But I’d still have the radio show, and maybe this is the push I need. The push to take the leap, to hustle harder, to make this thing work if it’s what I really want.
Then I won’t have to face the music.
I can simply slide out in the nick of time, like Indiana Jones snagging his hat before the boulder can crush it.
Or him.
Yup, I’ll be Indy.
I draw a deep breath. “What if we see each other for the next few days, maybe even the next week, and that should be enough time for me to sort things out with my career?”
She frowns. “I think that sounds great, but I do want to tell my brother that I’m seeing you. I feel like I’m keeping something from him.”
My gut twists, guilt winging through me. “Shit, London. I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that. About you keeping stuff from him. I don’t want to put you in that position.”
“It’s okay. I didn’t think about it much myself until the last few days, when it felt like we might become something. But now it seems that way, and I don’t want to keep a secret from my brother. A secret that affects him.”
“Of course. I get it. I do.”
“If he were in town, I’d honestly want to tell him today. But he has that camping thing.”
Ding, ding, ding!
“That camping thing” might buy me some time. A few days to get my ducks in a row.
This is the kick in the pants I need. I can’t as
k London to keep her lips zipped. And I definitely don’t want to break things off. But we have a couple days to sort this out while Archer is unplugged.
Maybe the answer is a simple one.
“This might be crazy, but if everything keeps going my way, I could give notice on Friday when Archer is back. Then I’d leave the club in a few weeks, and I wouldn’t have to worry about mixing business and pleasure. Know what I mean?”
Her smile spreads nice and easy. “I do. But quitting is a big deal. Are you ready for that?”
I rap my knuckles against the table. “Business is taking off. Seems like my time to fly.” The way I see it is I’ll give notice, finish out the job, then find the right time to tell Archer I’m dating his sister. But it won’t be a conflict of interest anymore.
She reaches for my hand and squeezes. “As long as you’re doing it for you.” I tense for a second, but she squeezes tighter. “Because you should do it for you. I know you like your job.”
“My job is fun. But it’s also not my endgame. So it’s time to start my endgame sooner. And you’re part of that reason.”
“I can’t argue with that. And of course I want to be with you. I’m so into you. I can’t believe it’s been less than two weeks, but I just am.”
There she goes again.
Making me feel like I’m on top of the world.
“You’re doing everything to me, London.” I lean across the table to drop a kiss onto her lips. She kisses me back, soft and slow, and it goes to my head.
To my heart.
Makes me feel like all these plans are possible.
That luck is real.
When I break the kiss, she’s still smiling. “Before I met you, I wanted to just focus on my career,” she says. “Find some great opportunities. But then you showed up at the dog park and . . . well, I like you a lot, Teddy. I want to see where this can go.”
How To Get Lucky Page 15
