“As long as it’s not after ten.”
“Because of the noise,” he answers with a firm nod, like this conversation makes any sense. “Now, are we going to fool around? Or are we going to talk?”
“Can’t we do both?”
“Not if you have your mouth full.” He kisses me, thrusting his tongue between my lips. I meet him halfway and we do a little tongue tango. By the time we come up for air, I realize I’m naked.
Wow. Tequila really does make my clothes fall off.
4
[Jake]
Oh, shit. ShitShitShit.
I pace inside my apartment in nothing but a towel, dripping on the warped, hardwood floors. My head is pounding from too much tequila and not enough sleep, but that’s the least of my worries. I just made a huge mistake by sleeping with my neighbor. Again. Not even the freezing-as-hell shower snaps me out of this goddamn want—no, need—to barge into Kayla’s apartment and bury myself so deep inside her I’ll never want to come out.
What the hell was I thinking? That’s a stupid question. I know what I was thinking. I’m about to get laid and won’t even have to Uber it home in the morning. Yeah, great reasoning. Now look at me. I’m hiding out in my apartment, dripping wet from a cold-ass shower that was supposed to shock some sense into me. Instead, it did nothing but make me want her more.
This makes no sense. I’m not into women like Kayla Riggs. She may look low maintenance with her naturally wavy, nut-brown hair and hazel eyes that need no makeup to suck you in, but I know better. She’s way too high maintenance for me with her bullshit rules and policy to never have any fun. I don’t know what got into me last night. The first time I slept with her was a mistake. Two lonely neighbors finding a little company in each other. Why the hell would I sleep with her a second time?
Another stupid question.
I know why. Because I know the Kayla she wants to be, the one she was last night. Last night she was the real Kayla. She licked my hand and had me begging to take her home, to have her lick something else needing attention. She kept giving me that come-and-get-me grin. I had tequila shots with that Kayla. I went home and had sex with that Kayla.
I woke up to the other Kayla and had to get the hell out of there before I did something crazy, like pull her to me and just hold her. She likes to be held and, to be honest, I like holding her. Her curves fit so perfect against my body, like they were made for me. I love how she walks around in nothing but a gold necklace and a smile when we’re together. The way she steals these flirty little looks my way always has me ready to take her back to the bedroom. Sometimes we make it. Most times we don’t.
There’s something about her I can’t seem to shake. It sticks with me, in my head, and makes me forget there are other women out there. The last time we slept together I couldn’t even look at another woman for weeks without seeing her, which really screws with my rep. I like that I’m known for one-night stands. I’m young. I play the field.
I do agree with one of her many bullshit rules. We won’t be crossing that line a third time. Or third tap. Whatever she called it. We shouldn’t have had a repeat of the first time. It was awkward the original morning after and even more awkward now. We avoided each other the rest of Christmas break, which was brutal since she works at the best place to eat on campus. I had to time my meals around her shifts or eat somewhere else until the students returned from break. The BU Diner may be a greasy spoon, but it’s better than any of the other dives close to campus. It’s the cheapest, too. Where else can a student get breakfast, lunch, and dinner all in a single meal? And enough to feed said student all three meals?
But I digress…
Kayla isn’t a one-night stand kind of girl. I knew that the first time we slept together. I knew that last night. Instead of listening to the nagging little voice telling me what a bad idea it was to go home with her, I ignored it and stayed the night at her place anyway.
As soon as we crossed that line the first time, we knew we shouldn’t have. When we did again, we really knew we shouldn’t have. That didn’t stop us from going balls-to-the-wall and attacking each other until we both collapsed from exhaustion.
I blame the tequila.
The fact tequila wasn’t involved our first time doesn’t count. Right? We were bored. Lonely. Horny. We were a convenience, two friends passing the time. That’s all it was.
This time was a combo of the way she eyed me like no one else mattered and the way she licked my damn hand. It still tingles where her tongue slid across my skin. I work my thumb and stare at my hand, wondering why her touch still lingers. I wonder why I still taste her every time I lick my lips. I wonder why I still feel her every time I breathe.
She knew I lied my ass off when I told her I had to be on shift at the firehouse as I practically sprinted out of her apartment this morning, but she didn’t stop me. For some reason, that bugs me. She didn’t even call me on my bullshit. If anything, she seemed happy to be rid of me. It dumbfounds me. Now here I am, wearing a path in my already worn floor, trying to find a way to make sense of it all.
Why wouldn’t she want me to stay? To top off the morning with an orgasm and leave her with a smile? I’m half-tempted to go next door and do just that. She has to be just as worked up as I am thinking about it. She just has to be.
Maybe she’s over there, wearing a path in her carpet as she’s contemplating the same reasoning that’s cluttering my brain. Could she be ready to knock on my door and have a repeat performance of last night?
This is why I don’t like taking women home who live within walking distance of my apartment. I don’t want them getting the idea they can stop by unannounced. They’d get an eyeful if they did. I’m rarely alone—by design.
Yet, as I think about all the women Kayla must have seen walking in and out of my apartment, it bugs me. Hell, does it bug me. What kind of guy does she think I am? Not for the first time since meeting her, I worry about how that makes her feel.
Ah, hell. She’s got me all in knots. Again. I knew better than to sleep with her. Again. It happened the first time we were together. I knew it’d happen again, this time an even worse case of mental fuckery. She messes with my head, makes me want to be better than I’m capable of being.
Despite all of that, I still want her in my arms. I want to hold her, to whisper nonsense and promises I can’t possibly keep. She does, indeed, make me want to be better than I’m capable of being. She does that to me—and I don’t mind that she does. I need the motivation, someone to push me to be more than who I am now. Someone who makes me want to put the needs of others before my own. Someone to text after a grueling shift at the firehouse, letting her know I’m on my way over. She’ll pull me into her arms and hold me until I fall asleep lost in her.
Kayla makes me want all that and more, which scares the ever-loving shit out of me. That sounds like a forever kind of relationship. I’m not a forever kind of guy, which brings me full circle to her making me want to be better than I’m capable of being.
There’s a knock, and my chest tightens. All my wishful thinking must have somehow seeped through the walls and landed in her head. Maybe she wants a kiss goodbye. Maybe she wants more. Whatever she wants, I hope she doesn’t turn it into yet another bullshit rule I’ll ignore.
When I open my door, the air whistles out of my lungs. It’s not Kayla. What is she doing here? She’s never awake this early on weekends, especially since I saw her all over Mike last night. “Britt?”
She storms into my apartment, her blue eyes blazing as her tongue engages. “We need to talk, shitdick.”
Brittany Pearson is one of those friends I hate to love. She gets on every one of my nerves. I hate her little names for me. I also hate how she calls me on my bullshit and usually at the worst possible time. Now is one of those times. “I was just on my way out.”
She gives me a once over before spiking an eyebrow. That look in her eyes intensifies. Damn, she’s good at that look. I’m in deep shit. Fo
r what? That’s the question. “In a towel? Nice try, dickwad.”
Shitdick? Dickwad? What the hell did I do this time?
I go into my bedroom and throw on jeans and a T-shirt as I contemplate. The last time she called me this many names in a row, she found me at the bar having a beer with a buddy after we both tanked our midterms. She accused me of being a traitor by hanging with someone she wanted to cover in peanut butter and tie to a tree for the rats to finish off—I still don’t know what that means, only that is sounds really unpleasant—and refused to talk to me for a week. It was the most peaceful week of my life.
When I found out what the guy did—that he’d attacked Britt’s best friend at the Delta DASH and kicked the shit out of the boyfriend when he called him on it—I wanted to kick his ass myself. Being a player is one thing. Being a complete dick is another. She was pissed then, and sounds just as pissed now.
“Okay.” I begrudgingly walk back out to rejoin her in my living room. “What’d I do to earn such terms of endearment?”
“You seriously don’t remember? Last night? Ring a bell?”
I distinctly remember last night, despite the tequila. Kayla licking my hand. Shots. Stripping down and banging like rabbits until the sun came up. Making sure she came more times than me. Waking up with a smile. And a little sore from such an aggressive workout.
Britt wasn’t a part of any of that. “Why don’t you fill me in?”
“How much tequila did you drink?”
“How’d you know what I was drinking?” I counter, my irritation growing with every question she throws at me.
She rolls those pretty eyes that may have snagged me at one time, but now only annoy me more. “You took Kayla Riggs home last night, you dumbass! What the hell were you thinking?”
Well, hell. “Spying on me now?”
“Like I’d have to. It was a Friday night. Of course, you’d follow some chick home like a dog in heat.”
“Britt, so help me—”
“Mike told me,” she adds quickly when I set my jaw.
I can tolerate a lot. The hazing from the guys at the firehouse. The hazing from senior agents at TREX. It’s Britt’s constant need to be in everyone’s business that really gets under my skin. “Since when are you and Mike on speaking terms? Didn’t you dump him for that guy you went to California with over spring break?”
She shrugs like it’s no big deal. It was a big deal for Mike. I had to listen to him pine over her the entire break. “We still talk. And stuff.”
“I bet.” Whenever she needs something, like the scoop on me, she goes to any length, like flirting with her ex to get information. Although, according to Mike, it never stops at flirting. I’m going to have to have a little chat with him about what he shares with Britt. It’s bad enough I have to listen to him go on and on about how bat shit crazy she is, but then I get her barging into my apartment to bitch me out about something that’s none of her goddamn business.
“This isn’t about me, Jake. You don’t deny taking Kayla home?”
Why would I? Britt obviously already knows. Besides, she saw me with Kayla when she didn’t have her tongue in Mike’s ear. “Are you going somewhere with this?”
“We talked about this the last time you two hooked up. She’s not your type.”
“What is my type?” I don’t even think I have a type. Does anyone at twenty-three? I pride myself in being open-minded when it comes to the women I sleep with.
The look she gives me immediately tenses my muscles, my raw nerves already on the verge of snapping. I blame it on not enough sleep. “You’re a good-looking guy with God-like abs. You should be going for girls with big boobs. Big hair. Big dreams, at the very least.”
“Someone like you?”
“My dreams aren’t that big,” she says with a wave of her hand and then adjusts her breasts. I can’t help but laugh as I shake my head. Leave it to Britt to find a way to compliment herself while insulting someone else. “Besides, we’ve been there, tapped that, and got it out of our systems. I never look back.”
Good. She’s a bigger player than I am, and that’s saying something. I don’t like dating when it’s a competition. “Except when it comes to Mike.”
“He’s different.”
“How so?”
“I may actually like him.”
I stop myself from taking offense at her finding a way to insult me as she compares me to one of her conquests. She and I aren’t that much different. Sure, I mentally compare the women I’m with. Keyword is mentally. “Look, Britt. I have somewhere to be.”
“Unless it’s a ferry to Seattle, you’ve got time. Listen to me. She’s a forever kind of gal. Em told me Kayla is shopping and to stay away from that. She even mentioned you by name.”
Of course, she did. I’m pretty sure Emma Rae hates me. I’ve never said more than two words to her, yet she makes it a point to glare at me whenever she spots me anywhere on campus. I always avoid her section when I come into the diner. “Shopping for what?”
“Do you honestly not know the answer to that?” Britt’s look drills into me. I stop myself from telling her to get the hell out of my apartment. I grab socks and my boots and sit down to finish dressing. I can’t be late or I risk my spot in the internship program.
It’s not often TREX agents want to meet for breakfast. I think. I’m not sure, since I’ve never been asked to meet them for a meal before. I’ve only met Bailey McKoy twice—both times in the training room. She said to meet them when she set it up, so I assume Jackson Banks will be with her. I like Bailey. I’m not sure how I feel about Jackson. He’s arrogant. Belittling. A know-it-all.
Shit. He’s just like me. No wonder I don’t like him.
“A husband!” Britt pulls my attention to her as she settles next to me, grabs the socks, and smacks my shoulder. “She’s on the hunt, my friend. Every time you sleep with her, you’re climbing a step on her husband ladder.”
I take my socks back and unfold them to slip them on. Kayla may be on the hunt, but not for a guy like me. I don’t know how to feel about that. Not willing to analyze why that bothers me, I shove my feet into my boots, tie them tight, and stand. If I don’t get Britt out of here, I’m going to be late for my breakfast meeting. “Thanks for the tip.”
“Are you even listening to me?” She grabs me by the waistband and jerks me back down. “I think she loves you.”
“She doesn’t even like me,” I counter and stand once again, this time darting out of reach in the nick of time. Britt grabs for me and misses.
“If you believe that,” she goes on, “if you truly believe that, then you’re more delusional than I thought.”
I’m heading to the door, but stop and toss a glance over my shoulder at her comment. I can tell when a woman is too attached. I always cut it off before it gets too far. I don’t pick up on any of those needy vibes from Kayla. If anything, the roles are reversed. She doesn’t have any hesitation sending me away. It’s me who always seems to want to come back for more. Again, I don’t know how to feel about that. “What makes you think you know me so well?”
“Because we’re exactly alike,” she answers without hesitation and stands to approach. “Don’t make the mistake of going back for thirds.”
What is it about women and thinking having sex more than twice is breaking some cardinal rule? “Thanks for your concern, but I can take care of myself.”
She punches my shoulder. Ouch. She’s deceptively strong for her size. “It’s not you I’m worried about. Kayla’s my friend. I don’t want you hurting her.”
The blazing sincerity in her expression gives me pause. I’d never hurt Kayla, not intentionally. I like her, maybe more than I should. I don’t understand why I can’t stop thinking about her. She’s the exact opposite of the girls I’ve chased since I was fifteen and discovered the amazing world of sex.
Then again, maybe that’s my problem. Kayla isn’t like any other woman. She’s real and that intrigues me. I have a mo
nth until graduation. One month to get my shit together and find some way to be a full-on grown-up. I hate the idea, but if I’m ever going to be taken seriously, I need to start acting like it. I could learn a few things from her.
This could be a good thing. My captain at the firehouse constantly lectures me on perception and how it reflects on the department when I’m seen with a different girl every weekend. Sure, some of the guys play the field, but they aren’t frequent flyers just looking for a little fun like me. I’m never going to be hired on permanently as Bainbridge Island’s next firefighter if I don’t start acting a little less like a horny college student and a little more like a serious college graduate. I know the person to help me get there.
Kayla may just be what I need.
5
[Jake]
Sparring is something I’ve never understood. When I fight, it’s because someone needs the shit kicked right out of him. It’s never to practice kicking the shit out of someone. But, since TREX is paying me to stand on this mat and spar with someone like Harold Ryan, I’m game.
I stand at the ready, my arms up, gloved fists poised, waiting for my partner to make the first move. I may not have training, but I’ve been in my fair share of fights. I know how to defend myself. I know how to take down my opponent. Sure, I’ve lost a few fights, but that’s only because I took on someone bigger than me. Stronger than me. Better at fighting than me.
Maybe I could use a little practice. It’s not like this guy is going to be a challenge. Despite how he looks on the surface, Ryan is still a nerd. Nerds battle in video games, not in real life. While I love video games as much as the next guy, I also know there’s more to life than what’s online. I’m not exactly thrilled to be partnered with a geek, but as long as he stays in the van or wherever the intel agents hide, we’ll get along just fine.
This is going to be a piece of cake. If I take him down, I get to leave early. I still have a shit ton of stuff to do, and I promised to look at Kayla’s balcony. Not that she believes I meant what I said when I went home with her last night. It still bothers me how quickly she jumped to the conclusion I don’t stick to my word when I told her I’d see her tonight.
The Heat Is On (TREX Rookies Book 2) Page 4
