Tequila Tequila

by Emma Hart

  “Just do it, she says. As if you’re going to clean a toilet.”

  “Well, sex does involve a bit of plunging. Like cleaning a toilet.”

  He pressed his hand against his forehead. “Please don’t ever use the words ‘sex’ and ‘plunging’ in the same sentence ever again.”

  “I’m trying to make it a little less awkward.”

  “What? By comparing sex with cleaning a toilet? It isn’t working, Asp. You’re just making it weird.”

  “You brought up the toilet thing. Besides, this entire situation is weird. It can’t get any weirder.”

  “Yes, it can.”

  “How?”

  “By you comparing sex to cleaning a toilet!” He laughed, walking over to me. He pried the bottle of water from my fingers and cupped my face. His palms were rough against my cheeks, and his fingers teased my hair. “I know what I want, all right? I want to take you back into your room and prove to you I’m a lot more than tap-tap-squirt.”

  “I’m never going to live that phrase down, am I?”

  “Yeah, well, I’m never gonna live down being the tap-tap-squirt, so we’re about even here.” His eyes sparkled. “But I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to. I just want to be done with this awkwardness. It’s up to you.”

  I groaned, leaning forward into him. Laughing, he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and held me tight.

  Why’d he have to put it on me? Why couldn’t he just make the choice for me? Being a grown-up sucked. When you were a kid, you didn’t really have to take responsibility for bad decisions. It was just, ‘Oh, she’ll learn!’

  Yeah, well, I fucking didn’t.

  I took a deep breath and stepped away from him. “Okay. Let’s do it. Let’s have sex.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Let’s do it.” I nodded. “I think.”

  “You think. That’s not sure.”

  “Well, I think I’m sure. That’s kind of sure.”

  “Aspen, if we have sex, and it turns out that it’s not idle curiosity, that there’s something else here, we can’t turn back from that.”

  Shit. Shit. “I’m not sure.”

  “Okay, come here.” He grabbed my hand and tugged me into him. “Let me help you with that.”

  Before I could ask how, he cupped the back of my neck and brought my lips to his. My heart did a happy flip, and my body reacted way before my brain did.

  My brain was still stuck on the potential of there being more than curiosity when my hands clutched at his shirt.

  Kissing him was easy. Weirdly so. His lips were soft and warm and full and tasted mildly of beer and tacos. On anyone else, that would have been a totally not-sexy combination, but on him…

  I was losing my mind. Mostly because now I had my arms around his waist and his tongue was teasing at the seam of my mouth.

  I let him in, bringing my body closer to his. His hand was splayed on my upper back, his other cupping my ass and pinning me to his solid abs.

  Fireworks erupted across my skin. All I could feel was him and the way he kissed me, the way he held me so tight against him that I could feel how badly he wanted me.

  His cock was solid and pressing against my stomach. The twinges of desire that I’d fought back rushed through me at the feeling of that, and I knew that we’d crossed the line.

  There was no going back from here.

  I pulled back from him. I was flushed, and my cheeks burned. My chin was tingling from where his stubble had brushed against me.

  I said nothing.

  I simply took his hand and pulled him into my room. The second we were through the door, I grabbed the collar of his t-shirt and kissed him again.

  Luke’s hands immediately went to my ass, tugging me right against him. We both staggered back toward the bed.

  “Take your shoes off,” I muttered against his lips. “And your socks. I’m not having sex with someone wearing socks.”

  He burst out laughing, sliding his hands up to my hips and leaning back so he could look down at me. “You know, if I didn’t feel the same way about socks during sex, I’d be annoyed you just interrupted us to say that.”

  I held up my finger and sat on the edge of the bed, then peeled off my socks. Waving them in front of him, I grinned, then tossed them to the side.

  “So sexy.” He rolled his eyes before kicking off his shoes and doing the same with his socks. “Happy now?”

  “No. Take off your shirt.”

  “You’re demanding.”

  “I get to be demanding.”

  Laughing again, he grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head, revealing his tanned, muscular body.

  Seriously.

  Was it sculpted? Shouldn’t he be in a museum?

  “Aspen? Can you stop staring? I’ve got eight inches of cock getting impatient.”

  My gaze dropped to his erection. “Really? Eight inches? Isn’t the average, like, five?”

  He smirked. “I’m above average.”

  “Yeah, well, we’ll see about that pretty soon.”

  “Jesus, you talk a lot for a woman who just dragged me into her bedroom.” He grabbed my hands and pulled me up off the bed.

  “Yeah, well, I—”

  He kissed me to shut me up. “Shut up and take off your shirt.”

  Before I could move, he grabbed the bottom of my tank top and pulled it up, forcing me to lift my arms so he could remove it.

  “Now, for real—stop talking.” He kissed me again, then pushed me back onto the bed. I squeaked as I landed on the mattress and bounced, but any protest was silenced by him leaning over me, slipping one leg between mine and covering my mouth with his.

  My fingers drew patterns up and down his back as we kissed, and when he moved his mouth down the side of my neck, it felt like the most natural thing ever.

  I let go of the weirdness of this being Luke, my best friend, and gave myself over to the moment.

  It took him no time at all to make his way down my body and grab the waistband of my shorts. I was breathing short and sharp by this point, so I didn’t question when he pulled them over my ankles and went back for my underwear.

  Then, holy crap, I was naked, and his face was between my legs.

  I gasped at the first contact between his tongue and my clit. It was like someone had lit a spark inside me, and by the time he’d fully parted my legs with his hands, I could hear the blood pumping inside my ears.

  He took his time, wielding his tongue like a weapon, toying with me over and over. He knew exactly what he was doing, and I squirmed in delight as he slid one finger inside me, adjusting his head so he had room.

  My hips bucked. My heart was going crazy against my ribs. I could barely control my breathing as he worked me up to the edge, adding more and more pressure with his tongue until I lost control.

  I clawed at the sheets, arching my back as the pleasure rushed through me. I knew I was trembling. I was hot all over; I couldn’t think. It was a hazy fog descending over my mind, and as I threw one arm over my eyes, I vaguely heard the opening and closing of a drawer and something swishing.

  I was oblivious to everything until Luke leaned over me, slipping easily between my legs. He chuckled low, bringing his lips to mine. They tasted a little like me, but I still wrapped my legs around his hips to force him inside me.

  My brain was mush, but my body was wide awake.

  He reached down between us, his thumb brushing my clit as he did, and guided himself inside me. I was so wet it wasn’t exactly hard, but he still took his time as he eased into me and my hips angled up.

  He kissed me as he moved inside me, long, slow strokes that were both infuriating and sexy at the same time. His tongue battled mine in time with his thrusts, and as the first moan left my lips, I felt him smile.

  Smug little bastard.

  One of his hands trailed down my body, sliding right down over my thigh and back up. His touch was red-hot, a
nd it wasn’t long before I was victim to another orgasm as it built inside me. The faster Luke fucked me, the faster it came.

  My nails were in his back as I gripped at him for dear life. I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted—needed—him to keep going, keep moving, keep turning up the pressure before I went insane with waiting.

  So, he did.

  He sat up, gripping my hips, and fucked me even deeper that way. I knew his eyes were on me, blazing with desire, but I couldn’t hold on any longer.

  The orgasm came at me much like the first—slamming through me with an intense pleasure I’d rarely ever felt before.

  Luke’s groan cut through my own, and he thrust into me really hard, then stopped, loosening his grip on my ass to lean forward and rest his forehead on my shoulder.

  We lay there like that for a minute, catching our breath, with him still inside me and me covering my eyes while I recovered.

  “Thanks for maiming my shoulders,” he breathed, lifting his head slightly.

  “You’re welcome,” I whispered back. “Thanks for turning out to be above average in bed.”

  He laughed, the sound thick and husky as he pressed his face into my neck. “Well, now you know I wasn’t lying.” He kissed the side of my neck and got up, slowly pulling out of me. “Do you want to shower first, or should I?”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – ASPEN

  Grinches and Banshees… And A Morning After

  I tied the band around the bottom of my wet braid and shook my head from my perch on the kitchen island. I was sitting in the middle of it, legs crossed, surrounded by food.

  “There’s absolutely no way Voldemort would beat Harry.”

  Luke raised his eyebrow and grabbed a handful of fries. “How do you know?”

  “There are literally seven books and eight movies about how Voldemort could not kill Harry Potter.”

  “All right, but if Harry wasn’t the master of death…”

  “Now, you’re just clutching at straws.” I shook my head again and grabbed a slice of pizza. “Your argument has no merit. Give up.”

  “I never give up. Not against you.”

  “I know. You’re an idiot. You cannot win an argument against me.” I tore a bite of pizza off. “Just face it.”

  “You’re so hot, eating with your mouth full.”

  “I’d throw this pizza at you if I weren’t dying of starvation.”

  He snorted, grabbing his own slice. “No, you wouldn’t. I’ve never seen you throw food. Ever.”

  “Food is sacred. It should never touch the ground.”

  “It wouldn’t. I’d catch it. I fully agree with you.”

  I bit into the last bit of the slice that had sauce and tossed the crust into the box. “Whatever. Voldemort could still never beat Harry. I don’t care what you say, I’m right.”

  “Sure, you’re right.” He shrugged a shoulder and dipped some fries into the tub of ranch before shoving them in his mouth. “Always right. Except for my bedroom skills.”

  “You’re so hot, eating with your mouth full,” I shot back at him his own words. “And whose fault is it that I thought you had the skill of a virgin teenage boy? You were hardly pornstar of the year two weeks ago!”

  He laughed, choking on the fries. He thumped his fist against his chest until he was able to speak again. “Pornstar of the year? I wouldn’t go that far. Unless you had a secret video camera in there…”

  I pointed at him. “I only let you in because I thought you were Blaire.”

  “You let me in all right.”

  Cheeks flaming hot, I blinked at him. “Your pun isn’t funny.”

  “I thought it was.” He grinned.

  “No video camera.” I redirected the conversation back around. “I said you were above average, don’t get cocky.”

  “You just said I’m better than at least fifty percent of the male population. How can I not get cocky?”

  “Because by that calculation, at least forty-eight percent of the population could potentially be better in bed than you.”

  He shook his head, tossing his own crust in the box. “Wow, Asp. You really know how to build a guy up.”

  I leaned back and raised my eyebrows. “I just came twice in fifteen minutes and scratched the crap out of your back. I don’t think I need to feed your ego anymore.”

  “Egos always need feeding.”

  “So do internet trolls, but it doesn’t mean you should serve them a three-course dinner.”

  “Point taken.”

  I grinned, uncrossing my legs and stretching them out. Luke grabbed more fries and dipped them again while I reached for the water I’d opened but not drank a while ago.

  We sat in amicable silence for a few minutes before I said, “It’s different now, isn’t it?”

  Luke slowly slid his gaze toward me. “Yeah. It’s different.”

  I rested my feet on the stool next to him and toyed with the bottle. “It wasn’t curiosity, was it?”

  “Do you think it was?”

  I looked at him. Really looked at him. His dark hair was a hot, scruffy mess on top of his head. His blue eyes were soft but curious, and the stubble that darkened his jaw was just long enough that it was begging me to run my fingers over it.

  And… I shook my head.

  “Me either,” Luke said quietly.

  “What do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied. “Do you?”

  “Nope.” I smacked the ‘p.’ “We maybe should have thought this through a little more before…you know.”

  “Before I fucked you into oblivion?”

  “I didn’t leave the bedroom, never mind making it far enough into orbit to get to oblivion. Calm yourself, Shrek.” I laughed.

  “Shrek? For fuck’s sake. Not the sex face thing again.” He shook his head.

  “What?” I grinned, leaning forward and resting my arms on my knees. “It’s true. Your sex face is a cross between Shrek and the Grinch, just not so green. But totally as hairy today.” I reached out and tickled his chin.

  He batted away my hand. “We’re not discussing sex faces. You won’t like what I have to say about yours.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with my sex face?”

  “Well… You look a little like a banshee.”

  “A banshee?” My voice rose several octaves. “A fucking banshee?”

  His lips twitched as he fought his smile. “Yeah. You know, eyes wide, mouth in a big ol’ ‘o’ shape…”

  “A banshee?” I couldn’t believe he was calling me a banshee. Or more specifically, my sex face.

  “Why are you so offended? You called me a cross between Shrek and the Grinch!”

  “Yeah, well—” I stopped. “You’re unfairly handsome on a regular day, so it only fits that your sex face is super ugly.”

  He grinned. It was the kind of grin that reached his eyes and made them sparkle—and made my stomach flutter.

  It was unsettling.

  The fluttering—not the grin.

  “You think I’m unfairly handsome?”

  “Ugh.” I slid off the island. “That was what you took from that? Couldn’t you focus on the ‘super ugly’ part?”

  “No. That doesn’t do my ego any good. Why would I focus on that?”

  “Of course.” I shook my head. “Why would you?”

  He laughed and got up, wiping his fingers on a napkin. “It’s getting late. I should probably head out. I have to work tomorrow.”

  I paused, turning around. “You don’t—I mean, it’s not like you’ve never stayed here before.”

  He quirked a brow. “Are you asking me to stay?”

  “No.” I bristled. “I’m saying you don’t have to leave if you don’t want to.”

  Luke walked over to me, stopping just a few inches in front of me. “If you want me to stay, just say it.”

  I folded my arms to put a little barrier between us. “I’m not saying that.”

  “So, you want me to leave?”
/>
  “Why are you so awkward? Stay or go. Your choice.” I poked him in the chest. “But I am going to bed. I’m tired.”

  “Yeah?” His grin was lopsided. “Are you?”

  I clicked my tongue and stalked toward my room. “Whatever. Do what you want.”

  “I’m coming with you. It won’t be nearly as awkward when I wake up with an erection this time.”

  I shot him a look over my shoulder and grabbed a t-shirt and pair of shorts to wear to sleep in. “That is never not going to be awkward.”

  He shrugged and pulled his shirt back off. “Maybe for you.”

  Oy. Why had I opened my big mouth?

  ***

  “Remember how Abuelita said I needed to marry a woman who can cook?”

  I eyed Luke, pausing with my pancake on my spatula. “Tread very carefully.”

  “I think I might marry you,” he said, grabbing the syrup bottle. “You’re hot, good in bed, and you can cook. That’s like the magic trifecta. Plus, we already know each other.”

  “That’s not superficial at all.” I slid my pancake onto my plate and joined him at the island.

  “What? Looks, sex, and food. That’s all a man needs in a wife.”

  “Wrong. He also needs her to have the patience of a saint if that’s the kind of bullshit she has to listen to.”

  “Ah, shit, yeah.” He paused. “Well, that puts you out of the running.”

  I flipped him the bird and shoved a slice of bacon into my mouth. Such an ass. Not that I knew how we’d gone from having sex to him deciding he was going to marry me.

  Clearly, he was thinking with both his dick and his stomach.

  It wasn’t a very intelligent combination.

  “For that, you can make your own coffee,” I said, getting up to go to the coffee machine.

  “For what? The trifecta comment, or the part where I said you have no patience?”

  “Both, you dick.” I hit the button on the coffee machine. “And no, you can’t use one of my to-go coffee cups just because you’re late for work.”

  “Ah, look. Who needs to get married? We’ve been acting like it for years. It’s good to know that blowing your mind hasn’t changed your attitude toward me.”