by Susan Ward
We square off with our eyes, me using what Jade calls my puppy dog stare and her answering back with her don’t fuck with a redhead glare.
She’s going to back down. I know my sister. She’s a good person deep down inside. “Fuck,” she growls and stares off into a vacant spot of the bathroom. “I’m holding you to your promise, Willow. He’s out in the morning. And whatever happens, it’s on you. I won’t cover with Dad for you.”
I keep myself from visibly gloating and drop a kiss on her cheek. “That’s fair, and you won’t have to cover for me. He’s not going to do anything bad. I’m positive of that.”
“I’m positive of that,” she repeats, staring up at the ceiling and shaking her head. “Where have I heard that before?”
No, don’t go there, Jade. Don’t mouth your list of the mistakes I’ve made over guys.
She sinks back on the vanity counter and scowls at me. “Where are we going to put him? Gary’s in my bedroom. We gave Dad’s room to Dean. Ivy’s sleeping on the couch tonight. Didn’t seem right to make her drive home this late. No fucking way am I letting him sleep in your room.”
She’s staring at me, arms crossed again.
Too late, Jade.
He’s already in my bedroom.
I fight not to smile.
I like that arrangement. Being alone with him to talk more. I could talk to him all night. It’s not just the sexy accent that makes my stomach flutter. Eric’s so interesting. Completely unlike every other guy I’ve known. I know Jade and Ivy think he’s a con artist—or something worse—but there’s no way a guy that fascinating isn’t someone special. They just can’t see how special he is.
“Put him on the love seat in the living room,” she orders.
I grimace. “We can’t. It’s piled five feet high with Dad’s junk. It’ll take me all night to clean it off to make him a bed there.”
“I’d rather have him sleep in the same room as Ivy instead of with you. Ivy doesn’t buy into his garbage. If you don’t wanna clean off the love seat, he can sleep on the floor beside it. But you get him out of your room. Or, so help me, I’m sending Gary in to toss him onto the—”
“Okay. Okay. On the floor. Just stop yelling at me and threatening to throw Eric out.”
“Oh, he’s out, Willow. First thing in the morning. Whether his mom comes through for him or not. He’s out.”
She stomps from the bathroom and I wait until I hear her bedroom door close before I head into the hallway. I half expect to find Ivy just outside the bathroom listening to every word. But no, not here. Must have been able to hear us from the couch.
Thank God Dad’s door is closed and I don’t have to see Dean when I pass it on my way to my room. It was nearly impossible to shake him off me downstairs in the bar during all the Jade and Ivy drama.
My gut tells me Dean’s the guy full of malarkey that we shouldn’t trust. Something about him feels off to me and I don’t trust him. Maybe I should tell my sister that and to get Dean out of our apartment.
Outside my bedroom door, I pause to take in a steadying breath. Kicking Eric out of my room after putting him there is going to be so humiliating. I’m twenty years old and my sister’s treating me like a little girl.
I have a right to have any guy I want in my room. It’s not like it’s something Jade doesn’t do. And what makes her think she has a right to order me? She’s my big sister, but only by two years. That’s nothing.
Jade always gets so high-handed when Dad leaves her in charge at home. She’s power drunk. In my opinion, no redhead should ever be allowed to be in charge of anything. It brings out their inner bitch.
I quickly fluff up my hair with my fingers then reach for the knob. Crap, I hope Eric didn’t hear Jade and me arguing. Every sound in the apartment travels through the heating ducts, room to room, like a microphone. It makes it so uncomfortable on the nights Jade and Gary have sex. Thankfully—well, for me and I laugh—Gary doesn’t last long.
Quietly, I slip into my room, and my forward motion is brought to a screeching halt. My gaze follows the trail of clothing on the floor—shirt, a foot later jeans, then socks and shoes—and slowly my study moves to the bed.
Oh.
My.
God.
Sound asleep on my pillow.
Body atop my covers.
Naked.
Eric.
I’ve seen my share of naked guys in my life, but none built like him. I feel a desperate need to fan myself; his body is that freaking wonderful. Long, strong legs tanned with the line ending at beautifully muscled glutes, which fade into more golden bronze skin across a narrow waist and a sensual display of back muscles speckled with tats, then in broad shoulders and cut arms with more ink.
He’s got the most adorable expression on his face while he sleeps. A smile expands from my center to mix with the lust pumping inside me. No way a guy who’s bad could look that sweet. The subconscious doesn’t work that way. It’s the part of true self none of us can control. If what I feel in him isn’t real, he’d lose his sweetness in slumber.
Mom always said, “Want to know the truth about a guy, look at him while he sleeps.”
My pulse is off the chart. My knees are weak. How his expression has softened makes me want to climb into bed and snuggle with him.
No guy has ever had this effect on me.
Not even the ones I’ve liked.
All Dean does is make me want to run the other way.
Jade and Ivy are wrong about Eric.
I’m positive of that.
After I switch off the light, I start to undress. I kick off my heels to land with the pile of shoes by my dresser. White tee dropped on the floor. Shorts, gone. I need a long t-shirt to sleep in, but I don’t want to risk waking him by rummaging through a drawer.
No, I’ll leave on my panties and bra, even if a girl would have to be crazy not to want to be bare-skinned against Eric. But that’s too much temptation; whenever we touch there’s combustion.
No, better not dare it. Don’t want him to get the wrong idea about why I’m helping him. Regardless of what I’m sure Jade and Ivy think, I never had any intention of having a quick hookup with Eric tonight.
True, I knew he stuck around at Mel’s because he thought he could get with me. And Ivy’s probably right—he thought I’d do it with him in the stairwell. But just because a guy thinks it doesn’t mean a girl has to do it.
He’s such a gorgeous guy, girls probably throw themselves at him 24/7, and that’s how hot guys think: that every girl is going to throw themselves at them, too. Can’t fault a guy for thinking like a guy, can you?
Credit me with some sense, Jade.
Carefully, I scoot beneath the covers on the vacant side of the bed. I turn onto my side to stare at him. There is no fucking way with him beside me I’m ever going to sleep.
Chapter Ten
Eric
WHAT THE FUCK’S UP with this pillow? There’s a hard lump in the center painfully pushing into my cheek. I punch it with my fist, but it has no give. A solid object of some kind, but I’ve got too many problems to wonder why Willow put what feels like a brick inside her pillow.
What a disappointment my friends and family have been the last twenty-four hours. Christ, even my mom. I can’t believe she didn’t answer my 911 text last night. Rest of my family, no big surprise, they’ll do what Dad tells them, but Mom’s has a soft spot for me. I never expected her to join the cut-off Eric from the family lynch mob.
It’s only a setback.
Nothing more.
Mom’s going to break.
She’ll answer my text—eventually. One day. Maybe two. Dad can’t be with her 24/7. And while I wait, I’ll be here with Willow. Not a bad place to hang for a few days if I can keep it going.
Oh, and I definitely want to keep it going.
I turn over, and as I stretch out on my back I come face-to-face with that dude from the motorcycle
club TV series from back in the day looking down on me from a giant poster on the ceiling above the bed.
Eat your heart out, Charlie. If you’re looking at what I’m sleeping next to I know you’re wishing you were the guy in this bed instead of me.
This bed. Ugh. Not comfortable, and what’s with the pink comforter with black writing on it? Oh, it’s a Roxy quilt. My sister Khloe had one—when she was seven—but I’ve never been in bed with a chick who owns cutesy bedding.
What’s that slogan printed over and over?
Don’t bother me, boys.
Ha ha. This had to be a gift from Jade. That girl runs all over Willow. And she fucking doesn’t like me. OK, maybe that’s not out of line. Last night was not exactly me at my best.
My gaze flits around the room. Willow must love pink. Everything’s that color except the floor and the furnishings. Even Khloe doesn’t have this much pink in her life and she’s the girliest girl I’ve ever known.
My groggy thoughts move to my unpleasant reality. I’ve got no money, no wheels, and sure as shit one of those hotheads is going to try to boot me out this morning. But no way can I let it happen until my funds problem is fixed.
There’s no way around not having money. I’ve gotta figure out a way to schmooze Willow et al into letting me stay in their apartment until my mom comes through.
Fucking Hugh and the guys. My mood goes south with the thought of them ditching me here. Those fuckers. Once I hit Pacific Palisades, record contract or not, I’m never talking to any of those asswipes again.
Time to block them from my mind. It’s ruining that nice feeling I have below the waist.
The bed smells like Willow and it’s made me hard as wood. Raging boner. Can’t believe I fell asleep without fucking her last night. Oh, but I do want to correct that.
I roll onto my left side toward her. She’s curled around her pillow facing me. Jesus Christ, she’s beautiful. Seeing her in bright light is like a pow moment. Dark arching brows, cute little nose, and luscious lips slightly parted in sleep.
My body wants nothing more than to fuck her, but looking at her stirs a smile and for a moment it’d be nice to lie only staring at her. I don’t know any girls who’d be this kind to me if they thought I was a broke loser and all.
Tara fucking wouldn’t, for all she told Ethan she’s in love with me. If I were drowning she’d probably toss an anchor on top of me.
Every word out of Tara’s mouth is bullshit. That girl doesn’t love anyone but herself, and I’m sure saying she loves me is part of working her fantasy of marrying a rich, famous guy. She’s not like Willow. A guy can’t believe a word Tara spews.
Willow.
My annoyance melts.
I’ve never met a girl quite like her. A stone-cold fox yet completely genuine. She’s the first girl in my life to help me out—not that I’ve ever needed it—but I don’t think it’s in the DNA of the girls I usually fuck. Not Willow’s brand of kindness.
It’s like my mom’s.
Genuine niceness.
Willow’s silky hair is falling across her cheek and I reach out to brush it back. She’s the only part of yesterday that wasn’t a horror show. If I had to be stranded somewhere, thank fuck it’s where she is.
No help for it.
Time to kiss her awake.
Time to do a lot of things.
My gaze sweeps along the slope from her waist up over her hip, and inhaling her deeply, I pick the very spot I want to plant my lips to say good morning. But not exactly the very spot I want. We’re not there yet. But soon…
My mouth claims the sensitive skin on her neck just beneath her ear, and the taste runs straight to my cock. A sweet whimper sighs from her lips, muffled as her face turns toward the pillow.
Good, she’s not stopping this—not that I expected her to—and that’s all the encouragement I need to let my kiss roam. Lower to her shoulder. That creamy mound of breast above the simple sports bra. And there it is, her nipple standing up from the fabric, saying come get me, Eric.
My fingers close on her hips to turn her on her back then Willow suddenly flies up off her pillow, eyes wide, startled, and I’m sure she would have hit the ceiling if her body hadn’t hit me first.
What the fuck? The force sends me over the edge of the bed to land on the floor. My head hits the wood so hard my wood deflates.
I lie stunned, staring up at Charlie above the bed.
What the fuck is happening to my world?
“Oh God, I’m sorry, Eric. I forgot you were in bed with me. Are you hurt?”
She stares at me dumbfounded, her eyes giant pools of…I don’t know what. And what the fuck does she mean she forgot I was in bed with her.
What.
The.
Fuck.
To give me a moment to collect myself, I check the back of my head to see if there’s a lump starting there. “I take it you don’t like to be kissed awake in the morning?” I try to keep my voice light, but her dismay is still evident in her expression.
“I’m sorry,” she squeaks.
“No need to be. A guy gets what he gets when he surprises a girl. I guess it was a pretty lame move. Kissing you while you were asleep and thinking you might like it.”
Her face turns fire-engine red. “No, it was nice really.”
Nice? Really?
She examines me from her perch atop the wretched Roxy comforter, wringing her hands in her lap. “Are you all right?” she says, her voice as small as I’m feeling.
“I’m fine.” I can’t help myself and add, “Really.”
We gaze silently at each other, and the air almost crackles between us. Fuck, she is beautiful.
“Is it safe for me to get off the floor?”
She bites back a grin and nods.
I start to move.
Her eyes flare wide.
“No, stay there.”
She holds up her hand like a stop sign, and I freeze balanced on my elbows.
What now?
Willow looks flustered.
Her breathing has quickened.
I notice where her eyes are locked.
Oh.
All that and he isn’t even fully hard anymore.
“I need time to think,” she says in her airy, earnest voice.
OK, what’s there to think about? I’m naked, she’s almost naked; that’s a pretty simple equation for both of us. In fact, a one-way street in my life. What’s the problem?
I turn onto my side so my cock isn’t pointing straight at her, prop my head in my hand, and smile at her. “How long do I have to stay on the floor while you think about whatever you’re trying to figure out? This wood is uncomfortable. And hard.”
I didn’t mean that the way it sounded, but her cheeks pink anyway. “Sorry. I’m not thinking anymore.”
She says that in a cute-cute babble way that’s endearing enough to take the sting out of the humiliating prior minutes, and before I can ask Willow what that means, she launches herself off the bed, grabs my shirt from the floor, and races out her bedroom door.
The door snaps shut.
I lie back on the floor.
My eyes lock on Charlie, and fuck if it doesn’t look like he’s laughing at me.
What the fuck?
Chapter Eleven
Willow
I FLEE TO THE kitchen to find Jade and Ivy already sitting at the table, eating breakfast.
Damn, isn’t there anywhere in this apartment for a girl to have some alone time? My stomach shimmies from the memory of Eric in bed, then drops from the memory of me knocking him out of bed.
I hurry past the table to the sink and keep my back toward them as I curl my fingers around the icy cold tile and try to still my breathing. It feels like my heart is trying to jump out of my chest.
I wasn’t prepared for Eric touching and kissing me awake. But in fairness, I doubt any girl would have been prepared for that.
It’s not supposed to end with my cracking him in the chest with my head and catapulting him off the bed. My cheeks burn. It’s supposed to end with really hot and dirty morning sex. At least that’s how it ends in my dreams.
Inwardly I groan—oh God.
Christ, how could I make such a fool of myself?
“Oh no,” Ivy barks, loud enough to be heard above my careening thoughts. “You did him last night, didn’t you? Look at her, Jade. Just laid written all over her this morning.”
“No. Wrong,” I snap, hoping that will halt their runaway assumptions.
“Don’t even try lying to me,” Ivy says. “I know you too well, girl.”
That was certainly rude. “I’m not.” And what the heck does she mean by the too well ugly addition to her comment?
“Why are you wearing his shirt, then?” Jade asks.
I blush. Not why you think.
The smell of him wafts from his shirt, regrettably followed by an unstoppable replay in my head of how I scrambled from the bedroom while he was still on the floor.
“Not looking at us is a sure sign you’re hiding something,” Ivy says.
“Did you talk to him?” Jade inquires in a frosty tone from behind me. “Did you tell him he had to get out?”
Out? Is she crazy?
“It wouldn’t be nice to jump on him first thing in the morning.”
Oh crud. I didn’t just say that, did I? I peek over my shoulder. Ivy’s giving me the evil eye. Yep, I did say it.
She shoves her spoon back into her bowl. “Something tells me that’s what you did.” She fills her mouth with Cocoa Puffs and chomps. “We’re never getting rid of him, Jade. How come it’s the losers that are always so fucking fantastic in bed?”
“Survival,” Jade responds crisply. “They’ve got nothing but their looks and body to depend on.”
“Don’t forget girls that can’t see through their slick lines,” Ivy adds. “I bet he’s never had a job in his life. A total user and loser, if you ask me.”
