IOU: A Romantic Comedy

by Kristy Marie

  I scoff. The only tension I plan on working out with her involves her naked body. “I thought we could try something different.”

  “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh! My! God!”

  I can’t stop the smile that comes over me. She’s so excited.

  “Maverick!”

  I scrub a hand over my lips. “It’s sea lions you love, right?”

  She swats me on the arm as her eyes water. “Why are you the sweetest asshole ever?”

  I shake my head at the confused trainer. Through Sebastian, and a mutual favor, I was able to secure Ainsley a behind the scenes tour at our local aquarium. The animal she’s seeing . . . you guessed it. Her beloved sea lions.

  “You ready to go in?”

  She nods, swiping the tears away. “Am I really going to get to pet one?” Her gaze volleys from me to Matt, the sea lion trainer.

  “You can pet them all if you would like,” Matt says, holding the door open.

  Ainsley sucks in a breath and looks at me. Her face is flushed and full of anticipation. “I don’t care how many IOUs this will cost me, this is the best day ever!” She wraps her arms around me and squeezes. “Thank you.”

  I welcome the heat of her body and hold her tight, breaking all my fucking rules today. “This isn’t a favor.”

  She pulls her head back, shocked. “Then what is it?”

  I shrug in her arms. I’m not any good at being myself. It feels off. But she deserves the truth, even if it embarrasses me. “A gift. I wanted to make you happy.”

  Rumor has it Tucker begged for his life.

  The sea lion excursion left Ainsley and me exhausted, but we still managed to stop for ice cream before going home. I couldn’t leave that off. If my goal was to make her happy today, it most definitely had to include ice cream and mac and cheese—but we’ll save that for tomorrow.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” she says, lifting my chin from looking at my phone. “Maybe you want to join me?” Her smile is honest and real and so damn sexy before it flattens. “Like in a minute. Give me time to shave and condition my hair so I look sexy and not like a prickly raccoon.”

  A laugh burst out of me. “I think I can do that,” I manage out.

  If there’s one thing I love about this girl, it’s that she’s wholly herself.

  “Good,” she manages a little shyly. “Give me about ten minutes.”

  I nod when she lets go and watch her dart down the hall and into the bathroom. Ten bucks says she uses my razor.

  Back to my phone, I’m answering Pops’s emails about potential candidates to assist me. Although I’m happy he isn’t cutting me off entirely, I’m not so sure about bringing in a stranger to work on my accounts with me. I’m a little territorial. Okay, I’m a lot territorial.

  My fingers fly across the screen. Paul is a hard no. I don’t care if he did graduate from Harvard and has been running an independent brokerage for eight years. He looks like he farts in paper bags for fun.

  I decide to text Pops instead of finishing the email.

  Me: Are you sure I can’t keep managing alone? We only have two months.

  I get an immediate response.

  Pops: Pops said stop texting him because he doesn’t do this texting thing and therefore has to get me to help him, which ticks him off—his words not mine—because I’m a nosy little shit and get all into his business. He said be happy you got off as easy as you did and pick someone. Coop.

  I grin. I had missed them, more than I knew. I start to text back when a knock on the door stops me.

  Who the fuck dares to disturb me this late at night?

  I yank open the door and there stands the asshole of my eye.

  “Uh . . . hi. Is Ainsley here?”

  Is Ainsley here? Is he fucking kidding me?

  I hold Tucker’s gaze as I push the door closed without acknowledging him at all. This prick has done enough damage to Ainsley.

  “Wait!” He shoves his foot in the door, stopping it from closing.

  I look down at his expensive loafers and shorts that rest at the thigh. What a prick.

  “What the fuck do you want?” I block his view so he can’t peer around and catch a glimpse of Ainsley or the apartment.

  “I would like to see Ainsley,” he says after taking a breath and standing taller.

  “I don’t know an Ainsley,” I say flatly. “Try next door.”

  I go to shut the door once again when he stops me cold. “Come on, Maverick. Let’s not play this game. Let me see my girlfriend.”

  I snort. “Your girlfriend?” I arch my brows at his boldness. “Don’t forget our arrangement, Tucker. You don’t want to get in over your head.” I sneer. “At least any more than you already are.”

  Reminding him of the debt he owes me seems to shake some sense into him.

  “I’m sorry. I just need to talk to her for a minute. I promise I’ll leave after.”

  Not going to fucking happen.

  My expression bored and unreadable, I ask, “And what would you like to discuss with your ex-girlfriend? Are you here to ask her to be your best man or Tonya’s maid of honor? I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.” I purposefully get his girlfriend’s name wrong. I don’t want him thinking they matter in the least.

  He bows his head almost remorsefully.

  “No. I’m not here to hurt her. I just want to talk to her.”

  Don’t care. “I’m sure you do. Unfortunately, I can’t allow that to happen.”

  She’s finally moved on from this prick. He isn’t coming back into her life. Not now. Not ever. She’s fucking mine.

  “Please. I only need a minute of her time.”

  “Her time is expensive.”

  He narrows his eyes. “Are you implying that in order to speak to her, I have to go through you?”

  See? He finally caught on.

  I tap the doorframe. “I knew you had to be smarter than you looked.”

  “You can’t keep me from her. This is her apartment too!”

  Aww. Look at him trying to stand up to me.

  “You get through this door just like anyone else,” I tell him firmly.

  “A favor?” He makes a scoffing noise like he isn’t making that mistake again.

  I offer him a malicious grin. “Please. You have nothing I want anymore.”

  He swallows, his throat working as his eyes dart around, attempting to peer around me, because that’s just the type of person he is. A loser. Pussy. Now he realizes why he should have never gotten involved with me. I never play fair.

  I reach into my back pocket for a card and a Sharpie, twirling the card between my fingers and drawing his eyes to my hands. “But maybe I can make an exception. Maybe you do still have something I can take.”

  Guys like Tucker aren’t the type of guys to owe me favors. It’s important to them to never get their hands dirty. However, he did it once. Maybe he’ll do it again before he goes off to med school, buys a house in the Hamptons, marries a debutante, and has a couple kids with his mistress. Guys like Tucker are dirty in their own way. Too bad I’m not interested in anything else he has to offer. I already have her. And now, he knows it. “Time’s a ticking, Tucker. How bad do you want to come in?”

  He sighs and steps back, darting his gaze to the ceiling. “You’re a real piece of work, Lexington.”

  I don’t move, I simply continue to flip the card over in my hand. It is what it is. Ainsley is under my roof and she is mine now. Tucker has nothing to say that she needs to hear. He had his chance and he fucked it up.

  I don’t plan on giving him the opportunity to make it right.

  Regrettably, Ainsley could use the closure, but what happens if that closure comes at a price to me? They were together for years. She and I aren’t officially together because I’ve continued to remind her that we are simply a contract. Sure, today was different, but I don’t know if one sea lion encounter makes up for years of memories with Fuckface.

  Call me a coward, but I can’t ri
sk her talking to him. She might forgive him and . . . it doesn’t matter. Turning Tucker away is for her own good.

  “Whatever,” Tucker says, scoffing. “Enjoy my leftovers.”

  I slam the door in his face and step back into the kitchen, fighting the rage that tries to consume me.

  “Who was at the door?”

  Ainsley is wrapped in a towel, this beehive sort of thing wrapped around her head. She looks like a badly wrapped Christmas present.

  I step into her. “Another desperate soul. I took care of it.” I touch the softness of her cheek.

  “I got tired of waiting,” she says, sliding her hands underneath my shirt.

  Her skin is slick, damp, and red against mine.

  “It’s a good thing you got out when you did,” I tease, eyeing the pink skin on her shoulders. “Otherwise you might have had third degree burns.” Tugging at the white knot at her chest, I expose her tits. “How hot did you have the shower?”

  “It’s not that hot,” she argues. “I just turn red very easily.” That’s for sure, except normally it’s her cheeks and not her whole body.

  “Hmm,” I hum. “Maybe you should cool off.” I wrench the towel away, exposing her fully.

  “Maverick!” she teases, but she sounds excited. She invited me to shower with her for a reason. She wanted to taunt me with her nakedness.

  “I’m pretty sure I’ll be fine. With the temperature you keep the air set on, I’ll be sure to cool off in no time.” She crosses her legs and each of her hands attempts to cover her tits.

  Honestly, I don’t give a fuck about cooling her off. All I see is pink skin that reminds me of pussy. Call it horny. Call it an excuse to fuck her. One way or another, though, I don’t plan to deny myself anymore. Tucker had it wrong. She was never his. She’s always been mine; she just didn’t know it yet.

  “I disagree.” I fight the urge to bum rush her like a juiced-up football player. A little tussling on the floor is great foreplay. “Move your hands.” They’re blocking my damn view.

  Her palms move over her weighted tits voluntarily, like the heat of my stare on her naked chest has her aching for my touch. I take a step forward, pushing against her damp body. The wetness is cool against my shirt, but it does nothing to cool the heated skin underneath.

  She swallows. “I want . . .”

  Her eyes follow the movement of my hands reaching out to skim across the goose bumped flesh along her forearms until they reach their destination—her hands. “You want what?” I whisper, the head of my dick stretching against the fabric of my jeans.

  A flush creeps up her neck and I follow it with my gaze. Pink. More fucking pink. She’s killing me.

  “I want to see you this time,” she admits softly. “I want all of you.”

  I groan, holding her gaze, watching as her eyes volley between my fingers curled around her hands to my eyes.

  “Granted,” I whisper softly, teasing at her referring to me as a genie. “Now, let me see all of you.”

  So many meanings are tied up in those eight words. I want everything from Ainsley James. Every second of crazy. Every angry word. I want it all. Every inch she’s willing to let me see.

  She exhales, her minty breath fanning across my lips. My eyes never leave hers as she drops her hands, taking mine down with them. I take a minute to revel in the fact that she’s trusting me to make her feel good—allowing me to worship her perfection.

  My fingers smooth along the sides of her thigh and up over the curve of her hip. “Where should I start this time?” I droll.

  Her intake of breath is shaky when she places her hand over mine and moves my hand to cup the bottom of her tit. The air is thick with our breathing. I still haven’t looked down and she hasn’t either. “Here,” she says, moving my hand so the pads of my fingertips drag along the skin on the underside of her breast, where it meets her chest.

  “Mmm. Here is good.” I confirm.

  She nods as I drop my hand and kneel at her feet, my head at the perfect level. And before she can say anything, I mumble, “Gorgeous,” before tracing the bottom of her tit with my tongue. Her head falls back against the support beam.

  “You’re so good at this,” she says as I wrap my arms around her hips and suck the pink nipple into my mouth. It’s cold against my tongue and I work hard warming it up to my body temperature before popping off and going to her other tit.

  My right hand crests along her back and over the curve of her ass, following the exceptional lines of her thighs until it comes to rest on the inside of her thighs. I push through and nudge her legs open. I want to see all of her. Dragging my fingers along her bare legs, I stop when I can feel heat coming from her core.

  She exhales loudly, her legs quivering against me.

  “I must not be that good if you’re still talking,” I suggest, breathing the words along her tits, my lips dragging against the soft skin of her nipple before I slip a finger inside her. She whimpers against me, the sound of her surrender my undoing. Biting softly, I hold her firmly against me. No way is she moving away. I want her to feel everything.

  Her fingers tangle in my hair. “Ignore me.” Her voice is gravelly—unhinged.

  I add another finger, plunging into her heat with fervor. If I don’t get inside her soon, I’ll be an angry asshole. “Are you sure?” I tease her, curling my fingers and stroking the rippled flesh inside her. “We can wait until I render you speechless.”

  She moans. “Shut up, Maverick. You’ve made your point.”

  Damn right I have. I grin and give her nipple a soft kiss before trailing kisses along her stomach and down to her bare pussy. I press a kiss to her center, the smell of her arousal drawing me lower. “I need to taste you,” I mumble.

  “Oh, God. Please.”

  Her face is flushed and the towel that was on her head falls to one side. I love that she doesn’t move it. She doesn’t worry about looking perfect. She’s just living in the moment, taking everything I’m giving.

  My dick jumps eagerly in my jeans.

  I bow my head and pull her forward by her ass, elevating her hips so I can drag my tongue through her slit.

  “Maverick,” she says pleadingly. It does all kinds of things to my heart. My watch is vibrating, alerting me that my heart rate is elevated. I don’t care, though. Seeing Ainsley come apart with the flood light shining through the open patio door, and her wet, tangled hair a mess along her shoulder, is exhilarating, erotic, and all fucking mine.

  Fuck Tucker. He’ll never get a chance to tell her he’s a douche.

  Ainsley James is mine and there’s no way I’ll ever let her go.

  My tongue and teeth battle to get closer, to crawl inside of her and eat her from the inside out. Her fingers are tight in my hair. Her back is arched against the pillar and her moans encourage me to go deeper, harder.

  “I need you to stop,” she chants between breaths. “I want to feel you inside me.”

  My lips quirk as I pull back and say, “Trust me, I’m inside you.”

  She cuts me a look that I’m sure she thinks is stern. “Smartass. I want your . . .” Her boldness trails off with her words.

  I cock a brow. “You want my what?”

  I want her to say it. I want her to tell me she wants my dick.

  “I want all of you,” is all she says.

  Leaning back on my heels, I put space between us, allowing the cool air to hit her center. She shivers. “Please, Maverick,” she begs, attempting to tug me closer.

  “You’re going to need to be more specific.” I tsk.

  A guttural moan escapes her. “I want your dick. I want it inside me now.”

  “That’s my girl. Tell me what you need.”

  With a growl, I stand, clasping her hip and walking her backward toward the sofa, watching the excitement in the depths of her ocean blue eyes. When the backs of her legs hit the arm of the couch, I flip her around and shove her over the armrest, her perky, glorious ass high in the air.

&n
bsp; I groan and follow the curve of her spine with my fingers, coating her with her own arousal. “You’re so goddamned beautiful.”

  She places her hands on the cushions. I can see her body rise and fall with each inhale and exhale. “Maverick.”

  Maverick is freaking right.

  “Say it again,” I demand, fumbling with my zipper like some kind of teenager, all excited and shit.

  “Maverick,” she says, and I can just hear the smile in her voice. She likes that I want to hear her say my name. She likes knowing she gets to me—likes knowing she can break through my cold and rough exterior.

  Finally, I get my fucking zipper down and my dick literally jumps free from my boxers. I grip it hard, coming closer and kicking her legs out wider so I can stand between them.

  “I love you like this,” I tell her, stroking my dick in a bruising hold.

  “Like what?” Her words are labored and breathy.

  I let the tip of my dick leak arousal over her stunning ass cheeks, marking my territory. It does something crazy to my chest. When have I ever felt the need to mark a woman? Claim her for myself. When have I ever cared enough?

  It’s a goddamned mystery. One I don’t think I’ll be able to solve just yet.

  I reach into my back pocket, finding the cards and the sharpie, and toss them onto the floor where they scatter. Ainsley’s head follows the noise, but I don’t bother explaining. All I can do is focus so I don’t jack off and come all over her pretty back. She wants me inside her, not all over her.

  Finally, I find my wallet and the condom I keep for emergencies. I pluck it from the leather and toss it onto the floor as well. I’m sheathed in mere seconds and lined up with her entrance. I don’t warn her. I don’t think I can—the wait is too much.

  The first push in sends a hiss through me. “So fucking perfect,” I mumble, almost incoherently. She’s tight burning flesh around me. A glove a size too small. I pull back and ease back into her, watching for any signs of discomfort. It’s a lesson in patience.

  “Are you okay?” I barely get out through clenched teeth.

  “Yes,” she moans. “More than okay.” Her fingers grip the cushions beneath her. “Please move.”