“Fine.”
We worked out a system where each player gets three dollars to bet. After the dollars are spent the player either has to fold or call. The winner of the hand gets to pick the person who loses an item of clothing and wins the item. After the hand, everyone gets their money back for the next round.
“Do you want any?” Jake asks.
I shake my head and say, “I pass. Is that the right term?” I look up and meet Alli’s eyes. She looks away. It’s just a show.
“Give me two,” Liam says, laying two cards on the table and picking up the cards Jake passes him.
“I’ll take three,” Alli declares and Jake hands them to her.
“And two for the dealer,” says Jake. He looks up from his hand. “Megan?”
“One dollar,” I say and lay a bill in front of me.
“I’m in, and I raise a second.” Liam lays two bills in front of him.
“I’ve got nothing.” Alli lays her cards on the table face down.
I hope she realizes she can still lose her clothes even if she folds. The only way to win at this is to take major risks and win as many hands as possible.
“I see your two and raise one.” Jake lays three bills on the table. “A pair of kings.” He lays his cards face up. “You’re up, blondie.” He looks over to me.
I place my bills, lay my cards on the table and glance at Liam. “Show me what you got.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Liam sees my cards and slaps his two pair down, shaking his head.
“Beginner’s luck,” I say, and it really was luck. I can tell he’s disappointed I won’t be the one losing my top. I hold my hand out and he shrugs out of his shirt. Glaring, he hands me the shirt and I slip my arms into the silvery gray sleeves. It is almost silky and it smells clean, like expensive cologne—just like him. I hold the collar next to my nose and take a deep breath, staring into his eyes. Liam smiles.
Four hands later, Liam and Alli are both out and are each wearing a blanket. I’ve lost my top, but I still have my suit bottoms and Liam’s shirt. Jake hasn’t lost anything. I’m sitting on Liam’s lap and Alli is on Jake’s.
This game has been more about luck than poker skill. The setup is totally messed up. I have nothing, not a single face card—eight high. I know the cards that have been played and what cards Jake most likely holds. I flash Liam my cards, and he whispers, “Let’s go to bed.” I thought he would at least wait until I lost my bottoms so he could sneak a peek. The fact he doesn’t could be taken two ways—either he doesn’t want to see or he doesn’t want Jake to see. I hope it’s the latter.
“I’m out.” I lay my cards down and rise out of the chair. Liam follows.
“Hey you owe me something,” says Jake holding out his hand.
Liam slaps his hand and says, “We’re going to bed.” He bends down, scoops up his boxer briefs and slips them on, without a hint of modesty, as I watch. Holy hell he is gorgeous. Then, he wraps his arms around me from behind and envelops me in the blanket he’s wearing. I’m flush against his almost naked body and my body lights with energy.
“Goodnight,” I say making eye contact with Alli.
She smiles, raising her eyebrows. I know she’ll be okay. She comes off as this organized, type A, neurotic, pre-med-student, but that’s not the real Alli. She’s had her share of hookups. Not that often, but more than I would expect if I didn’t know her. She doesn’t do relationships because she doesn’t make time for them, so what’s a girl to do? I think it’s her way of rebelling against her parents. They are completely overbearing. Her dad is a brain surgeon and her mom is a psychiatrist—both mind doctors. I don’t even think she wants to be a doctor anymore. Alli is a really good student and with her parents’ connections, she’s sure to be accepted into the U of M’s medical school. I think she’s going just to please her parents, though. Her rebellious streak is why we get along. You never know what to expect from her.
Liam leads me inside the house and I grab my weekend bag off the floor by the door where it landed when we got here. I had fished my suit out of it earlier so I have to zip it before I run to the bathroom. I wash up the best I can, brush my teeth and throw on a tank with pajama shorts. When I come out, Liam is leaning against the back of the couch with his hands full of blankets waiting for me.
“I know where we can sleep. I crash here all the time,” he says. Then he leads me upstairs to the music room. Guitars line one wall and there’s a huge, C-shaped mustard-colored couch with a round ottoman that fits into the center. He pushes the ottoman into place and the couch now resembles a big curved bed.
I set my bag down and ask, “So you bring girls to Jon and Sarah’s all the time?”
He chuckles and starts to spread a blanket onto the couch. “I wouldn’t do that to them,” he mutters. His expression turns serious and hard to read.
He stands in his underwear, tossing pillows onto the couch. I don’t know what to expect. He’s quiet and contemplative after my comment. Maybe it was too close to reality for him. He plops a couple more blankets down and runs his fingers through his hair. He looks frustrated. I jump onto the middle of the couch and spread out.
“So where are you sleeping?” I ask.
A smile ghosts on his face as his dark eyes penetrate mine. I return my most innocent expression and pat the blankets invitingly. He kneels next to me and stops, leaning back on his heels. His lips twitch and his brows knit.
“I need to tell you something.”
“Talk,” I say. He’s obviously changed his mind. Was it my pajamas or my comment?
“I promised Jon I wouldn’t hook up with you.”
“What?”
“Jon doesn’t want any of his groomsmen hooking up with the bridesmaids.”
“Why does he care?”
“He doesn’t want anything ruining his wedding day. He thinks I’ll piss you off and it will be awkward.”
“Maybe you’ll piss me off by not hooking up with me. Ever think of that?” I smile, throwing my hands over my head. My posture is open and inviting and I can feel his eyes roam down my body.
He groans and looks at me longingly. “As much as I want to be with you, I can’t.” He sits on the edge of the bed and then turns to me.
“I don’t understand why you let Jon control your sex life.”
He raises his eyebrow at that. “He doesn’t control me,” he says with a chuckle. “We’ve been friends a long time and I promised him I wouldn’t. I don’t want to betray his trust.”
We are adults. I don’t get it. “We could just cuddle,” I say moving over to give him room to join me on the bed.
He lies next to me, all shirtless and magnificent, and I can tell by the enormous bulge in his boxer briefs he doesn’t want to just cuddle. I can’t help that my finger circles his nipple causing his face to wrinkle and a soft cuss word to grunt from his throat. He looks toward the door, then back to me.
“My father’s a lawyer,” he says, and I have no idea what he’s thinking. “If I’ve learned anything from him, it’s that there are always ways around the law. If we utilize my mad skills and use a politician’s definition of cuddling…”
“And not the high school health class definition?”
“Exactly.” He climbs on top of me, straddling my hips, unbelievably gorgeous. “There are always loopholes.” He leans down and presses his lips into mine—not too wet, but hungry, very hungry. Then he sits back up, pulling me with him. Both his hands caress my sides and skim up my body, dragging my tank over my head. He tosses it over his shoulder like a backward shot from the free throw line. Then, he pushes me flat on the bed and his lips are on me again, my breasts painful with want. He smells so amazing. I’ve never met a guy who smelled so tantalizing. I literally want to lick him.
I don’t care that I just met him. I don’t care what Jonathan says. I want him. The chemistry is overpowering. I’ve never wanted to be with a man more. I trail my hands down the hard striations of his abdomen and brush my thumbs under h
is boxer briefs, following the natural V indent of his muscles. I could go off just touching him, not even taking into account what his tongue is doing to my breast at this very moment. This is crazy. He notices my touch and halts his assault, pinning my arms to my sides on the bed.
“You’re first. Those stay on,” he says. “I can’t cross the line with you.”
I want to scream at him to cross the line. I want to cross the line more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. Then his lips are back on me and I’ve completely forgotten my own name. He releases my wrists, and then smooths a hand down my body. His fingers tease under the edge of my panties and the anticipation of his touch is unbearable.
An hour or so later, I’m cradled in his arms pressed firmly against his hot, shirtless body as my hand trails across his magnificent pecs. I have been utterly and completely satisfied, but I’m definitely still hungering for the one act taken off the table.
We’re chatting under a shared blanket and he’s telling me about his last meaningful relationship. He had dated a makeup artist he worked with. Then one day, he woke up and realized she had moved in with him. After several months of living together, she told him she was going back to her husband.
“I didn’t even know she was married. She was twenty-four. Who gets married that young?” He laughs and adds, “Besides Jon and Sarah. We’d been dating for six months.”
“So what did you say when she told you she was married?”
“What could I say? She moved out and got a new job. I’ve seen her a few times, but she’s still with him.”
“How long ago did she move out?”
“Nine months.”
“So you haven’t dated anyone in nine months. No wonder you’re all hands.”
“I’ll show you all hands,” he says as his fingers skim across my stomach. “I didn’t say I haven’t dated since she left.” He rolls me on top of him. “Technically, I don’t date and I don’t do relationships. Kelsey’s was the longest I’ve ever had, the only real relationship since high school, and it just happened. Lately, I just go out with friends and then hook up with someone I know. I wouldn’t call it dating. Honestly, I don’t even know how to date. You’re the first person I’ve wanted who I didn’t hook up with.”
“You’re quite the sharer, Nordstrom. You don’t even know me and you’ve told me half your life’s story.”
“I know more about you than you think,” he says.
“You do not. The only thing you know is I organized an unsuccessful intervention on an old boyfriend. I can barely get a word in with all your jabbering.” I slug him in the shoulder and his smirk grows.
“If I can tell you something significant about you then you have to run downstairs and make me a sandwich.” He pauses. “Without getting dressed. If I can’t, I will run down to the kitchen and make you whatever you want, without clothes.”
“How is that a win for me?”
He leans down and kisses me. I think he does it to shut me up.
He pulls back and says, “If you have other desires besides food, just tell me. I can accommodate.”
“What I really want would break up your bromance with Jonathan. So…” I pause to think, and he smiles at my words. “Okay, I’ve got it. If you know anything about me, I will make you a sandwich in my birthday suit, but if you don’t and I’m the one who decides what is significant, then you have to give me a backrub for a full fifteen minutes.”
“I don’t lose either way.”
“Only a backrub, nothing else. So share what you know.”
“I know purple is your favorite color.”
“I never said that.” How the hell does he know that? I scowl at him.
“It is though, isn’t it?”
“How did you know that?”
“The bra you wore tonight is purple, your panties too. You’re on a trip and you only brought underwear you like. You wanted to feel sexy at the club because you might run into…me, so you wore your favorite.”
“That was just a lucky guess.”
“Okay. I know you have three brothers—two older and one younger. I know your education degree is your fall back in case you decide not to get your doctorate in math, and one of the schools you are looking at is UCLA. I also know you were playing me in the card game.”
I think my jaw is on the floor. I stare into his dark eyes, trying to read him. How could he possibly know that? And why did he act so surprised when I said I was an education major? What a devious liar.
“I’ve spent a lot of time at Jon and Sarah’s lately. I was warned never to play poker with you. Sarah talks about you and your housemates all the time. I know things that would make you cringe.”
“I don’t want to know what you know. So don’t tell me.” I’ll be much happier not knowing what cringe worthy crap he’s heard about me. “Stupid Sarah! Now I have to make you a naked sandwich.” I get up and start walking toward the door, dragging a blanket from our bed with me.
“Naked,” he says grabbing the blanket and yanking it out of my hands.
“Completely?” I ask, pushing my lower lip out, and he takes pity on me.
“You can leave your purple panties on. I’m not going to make you strip, though I should.”
“What if I run into Jon and he asks me why I’m walking around his house naked. I’ll have to tell him the truth because I don’t lie. And what will he say when I tell him one of his groomsmen has defiled me. Okay, not defiled. Everything but defiled.”
“Not everything. Not even close.” He pauses. “We can work up to everything after we eat.” He hands me the blanket and his expression turns serious. “Don’t tell Jon. He doesn’t ask for much from his friends and I don’t want to disappoint him. He thinks I’m a better person than I actually am.”
Liam sounds so sad, like he wishes he could live up to Jon’s expectations of him. Now I feel bad, like I forced him into something he didn’t want to do. He is a guy, though, and I don’t think guys ever do anything they don’t want to do.
“I won’t,” I say wrapping the blanket around me. “What kind of sandwich do you want?”
“I don’t know what they have. I’ll come with you.”
We quietly make our way down the stairs. There are no lights on in the house at all. It’s creepy walking around someone else’s house in the dark, like I’m breaking in or something. I hear a whirring noise and look over my shoulder to see a giant green monster bursting through the wall, his eyes stalking us with an eerie green glow. The scream that escapes my mouth is quickly muffled by Liam’s hand.
“Shhh,” he whispers in my ear.” He eyes me and slowly pulls his hand away.
“What is that?” I ask as calmly as I can. My heart is pounding so loud, I’m sure Liam can hear it.
“It’s Pedro. He’s from an old movie set.”
He guides me closer to it. I hadn’t seen it before on the wall. It seems to come to life in the dark and it’s following us with its eyes. With Liam by my side I reach out to touch its rubbery skin and I take a deep breath. It’s fake. The noise was the motors on its moving eyes. I nuzzle into Liam’s arms with relief and he laughs without making noise.
Once we are in the kitchen, Liam flicks on the light and I head for the fridge. He finds a loaf of bread in the cupboard and sets it on the granite counter. I pull out the lunch meat and a couple of packages of different cheeses.
“That turkey will work and the fontina.”
“The what?”
“That white cheese.”
I look through the packages and find the one labeled “fontina.”
“And mustard.” He raises his eyebrows and pulls my blanket together in the front. I didn’t even notice that it was hanging open. “I’m going to grab our clothes. If you can find some kale or spinach, that would be great too,” he says, as he heads out into the courtyard.
I know he’s covering up the evidence of our nakedness. I don’t see any lights on out there and wonder what happened to Alli. She’s
not in the house and she’s not by the pool. Sarah said she would kill anyone who left the property and I know she meant it, so they must have headed to the main house. I finish assembling his food and fill a tall glass with water from the fridge.
When he returns, we head back upstairs and he sits cross-legged to eat on the makeshift bed. I down about half of the water and pass it to him. He takes a sip and hands it back. “Tell me about yourself, Meg.” He bites his sandwich and grins.
“It sounds like Sarah already told you my life’s story.”
“Uh uh.” He swallows his food and adds, “What makes you tic? What makes you get up in the morning?” He takes another bite waiting for me to answer.
“The sun,” I answer putting on a serious expression. Why does he want to know me? It’s not like we’re going to see each other again—maybe at Sarah’s wedding, but I don’t see us dating. He’s a freaking Hollywood star—why does he care what motivates me? Maybe he’s studying me for an upcoming role.
His eyebrows furrow and he says, “I want to know you. You intrigue me.”
“I’m flattered.” I smile at him. “I don’t know what to tell you.” He breaks a piece off his sandwich and holds it in front of my lips. I open my mouth and he stuffs it in. His fingers linger in my mouth and I caress them with my tongue, sucking them in deeper until he groans.
“You’re killing me.” He pulls them out, shaking his head.
“Tell me about your family,” he says, before taking another bite of sandwich.
“My dad manages a marina with about three hundred slips. He owns it with my grandfather, and my three brothers work there. I hate the marina.”
“Why do you hate the marina?”
“A million reasons,” I answer.
“Like?”
“It consumes. It takes and takes and takes.” I don’t want to scare him. I’m not some psycho-bitch. “During the spring and fall, the entire family works to get other people’s boats in and out of the water. In the summer, they manage the boaters and sell slips. They have to keep the boats gassed and maintained. In the winter, they do more maintenance and major repairs. It consumes every waking moment of their lives. My family lives and breathes the marina.”
Between Friends (Between the Raindrops #3) Page 10
