Sexy Living

by Regina Cole

  “I can’t, Stacey, I need more.”

  With that hastily worded and less-than-clear statement, Rob lifted her off him and laid her down on the bed. She blinked into the darkness, and his form was suddenly silhouetted above her.

  And then he was everywhere.

  His mouth, hands, body—there was nowhere he wasn’t touching her. He kissed her breasts, her nipples, her hips, her belly, his fingers rubbing down her arms, beneath her to cup her ass, over her thighs, parting them. The blunt head of his cock slipped inside her with barely a half a second’s warning.

  “Ah,” she gasped, wrapping her legs around his hips. “Oh God.”

  He was so much deeper than before, nudging against her heart, it seemed. She clutched at his arms, relishing the way his muscles stood out as he braced his upper body above her. He lowered himself, clutching her close, and began a quick, steady rhythm, continued from their earlier dance.

  “Rob,” she gasped, when his mouth tore from hers and the thrusts came quicker, harder. “Oh God, please.”

  He lifted up then, just enough to reach down between them and find her clit. Biting against the scream that started to build in her throat, Stacey arched into him. Deeper, and harder, his hand and cock falling one after the other in a quick dance of sensuous insanity. She couldn’t fight it any longer.

  In the dark, she held him as she shattered into a million pieces. Clinging to him as her orgasm rocked her, she barely registered his groan, and the heat that built inside her as he came. Her eyes were open, but it didn’t matter. The darkness surrounded them, covered her, gave her the courage she needed to relax into this moment with him.

  As the flames quieted, and Stacey finally came back to herself, she realized exactly what was going on.

  She had fallen for Rob.

  Not that it was much of a surprise. She’d done a shitty job of holding him at arm’s length. And who could blame her, really? He’d taken care of her, made her feel beautiful, and given her some of the best orgasms she’d ever had. What woman could resist him?

  She buried her face in his chest. Certainly not her.

  The sense of comfort, of completion, that blanketed him was incredible. He pulled Stacey closer, rolling to his side so his weight wasn’t crushing her.

  This woman had crawled into his heart, and he couldn’t have dislodged her if he’d wanted to. He didn’t want to.

  What he wanted was to sleep with her by his side for an hour or two, then lead her into the bathroom and shower with her. Soap up every inch of her, watch as the rivulets of foam outlined her every curve, and then bend her over the edge of his tub and go for round two. He could lean forward, cup her beautiful breasts as he entered her from behind . . .

  Christ, he was getting hard again.

  She shifted, rolling onto her side, and he spooned her with his chin atop her head, her sweet ass pressed back against him. Her body fit him so wonderfully, soft where he was hard, sweet and giving and just so—Stacey.

  Suddenly the sleepiness left him, and he smiled. He was about to open his mouth and suggest they head to the bathroom for that shower, when the realization hit him.

  The lights.

  Stacey wouldn’t agree to the shower, because she was too embarrassed to let him see her.

  Some of his joy dimmed, and he closed his eyes.

  How was he going to help her fix this? He cared about Stacey, was caring more for her every day, but how could he consider being with someone who wouldn’t even let him see her in her underwear?

  They’d had sex several times now, but the only reason he’d ever even seen her breasts was because he’d walked in on her changing.

  His heart, so recently glowing and happy, turned cooler inside his chest. Damn it. Things had been going so well, and now reality was pissing all over his parade.

  Pressing a brief kiss to her bare shoulder, Rob slipped from the bed. He needed to take some time, think this through. No, he hadn’t made plans for the future where Stacey was concerned. How could he? There was so much competing for his attention right now. The gym; his family; hell, even his accountant had been hounding him for some late paperwork for two weeks now. But with every minute he spent with her, it was getting harder and harder to imagine a life without her.

  “Rob? Where you going?” Her voice was sleepy, and the bed creaked as if she’d lifted her head to look toward him.

  “Just grabbing a shower,” he said, his hand on the knob of the bathroom door. For a moment, he considered, then threw caution to the wind. “Want to join me?”

  Silence fell, an awkward, ugly thing. Seconds ticked away. Eventually, the answer he’d been expecting came.

  “I’ll grab one later.”

  Pursing his lips together, Rob nodded. The bathroom door shut behind him.

  With his palm on the door that separated them, Rob closed his eyes.

  He’d made a promise to help her with her self-image. It went much deeper than helping her get healthy, and he’d realized that pretty early on in their association. But that was before. Before he’d fallen in love with her.

  With a heavy breath, he pushed off the door and flipped on the light switch. He tossed the condom in the garbage can and flipped the water in the shower on.

  Bracing himself on the counter, he looked into the mirror. Facing himself critically, he listed his flaws.

  His abs could use some more definition. He needed a shave. There was a mole on his shoulder, a scar on his left pec from where he’d fallen out of a tree when he was ten, and his arms weren’t where they should be, either. There was more. If he stayed there, he could find any number of things to be unhappy about. But what did Stacey see when she looked at him? Could she not see any of the things that were wrong with him? Did she think they were so mismatched?

  Or maybe she just didn’t want this to go anywhere.

  Rob adjusted the temperature and stepped into the shower. Steam clouded the glass walls, and he soaped up quickly, methodically. Putting the whole Stacey situation out of his mind was difficult, but necessary. He needed to work on other things. Calling his mom to check on his dad was high on the list, as well as contacting the clients he’d missed appointments with over the past week. Scheduling makeup sessions with the ones who’d opted to wait instead of work with his fill-in. Doing payroll, which was coming up over the next few days. Reviewing the list that Silvio had made for restocking the smoothie bar. Tasks on top of tasks on top of tasks. He didn’t have time to try to figure out what to do about Stacey right now.

  But she never left his mind. Not while he rinsed his hair, not while he dried off, not while he shaved. Not even when he pulled on clean briefs and loose-fitting track pants. And then, when he’d run out of things to do in the bathroom, and he had to go out and face her, he was met with darkness and the soft, even sound of her breathing.

  She was asleep.

  He wanted to go over to her, place his hand on her hair, bend down, and kiss her awake. Pull her into his arms, and show her exactly how beautiful he found each and every part of her.

  What he did was walk softly to the door and open it quietly so he didn’t disturb her. A shaft of light fell onto the bed, illuminating her face for a moment. A furrow appeared between her brows, but she didn’t stir. Her strawberry-colored hair was spread out around her, a cloud he’d love to feel falling over him once again.

  With a shake of his head, he let the door close behind him.

  It was up to her. He couldn’t force her to love herself. He couldn’t force her to love him. He couldn’t beg her to give them a chance. It was all up to her.

  Padding barefoot down the hall, he retrieved his cell phone from the pocket of his coat. Patting Custard on the head, he sank down onto the couch beside the dog and dialed his mom.

  He wished he could unload all of his problems on someone—on anyone—but he was the fixer. He was in charge of keeping everyone healthy, happy, and thriving. So, for now, he’d do his job. He’d fix his own problems later. If they
were fixable.

  Chapter 23

  More than a week later, Stacey leaned closer to Rob’s bathroom mirror to neaten up the wing on her eyeliner.

  Finally getting back to work had been amazing. She was full of ideas and energy, ready to attack her solar panel project with renewed vigor.

  Over the past few days, with her doctor’s permission, she’d even gone to the gym with Rob and done some simple workouts. Nothing strenuous, just light weights for her upper body and some steady walks on the treadmill. Her limp was gone, but the soreness still lingered, so they kept it brief.

  Honestly, she was only doing it to have more time with Rob. Her drive to improve herself had been totaled just as completely as her poor Jetta, which her new lawyer friend, Tony, was fighting with the insurance company about. The lawsuit from the other driver was shaping up to be a long, messy affair, with unfounded accusations and unreasonable requests flying. It was a major source of anxiety, but fortunately Rob had connected her with one of the best lawyers in town.

  Stacey paused halfway through her application of lipstick.

  Rob. He had confused her thoroughly over the past week. They’d had sex several times, but when she’d asked for the lights to be off, he hadn’t argued, but he had hesitated. It was almost as if her request was hurting him somehow. He was always pleasant, kind, his usual self, but somehow there was a bit of distance that hadn’t been there before. Even the simple Thanksgiving dinner they’d shared had been quiet, almost stiff, before they’d gone back to the bedroom and shut off the lights. She didn’t like the disconnect, but how could she ask him about it?

  Hey, is something wrong? Because you’re being super-nice and taking care of me, but something is off and I can’t tell what it is, but did I make you mad?

  Pfft. Yeah. That would go over well.

  Stacey capped her lipstick and tucked it back into her makeup bag. Stepping back, she eyed her reflection.

  Not bad. Her face was a little thinner, but there weren’t any obvious marks remaining from her wreck. The bruise on her leg, still a sickly yellow beauty, was covered by her slacks. Her headaches were gone now, and her limitations on driving and working had been lifted as of the day before. After her workday today, instead of coming back here to Rob’s house with his big, goofy dog and the bed they’d begun to share every night, she would return to her cozy one-bedroom, third-floor walk-up. With her houseplants. And no Rob.

  There was an inexplicable lump in her throat, but she coughed to clear it and checked the contents of her bag. Pajamas, clothes, toothbrush, it was all there.

  Stepping back, she looked at the counter. Rob’s stuff was still there. His deodorant, razor, toothbrush, all lined up in neat order. The counter had taken on a much friendlier appearance over the past week. Her stuff had mixed with his. Her toothbrush kept his company in the gray ceramic holder. Her deodorant had sat alongside his. Her contacts case and eye solution had lined the space beside his razor and aftershave.

  It looked so lonely now.

  “Stacey, are you almost ready? I’m going to start the car and let it warm up.”

  “Yes, I’m coming,” she called back, jumping a bit at the sudden noise. She turned to walk out of the bathroom, but glanced over her shoulder one last time.

  She was stupid. Foolish. Insane. But she jammed her hand into her bag and pulled her toothbrush from the case it had been in. Without a second’s hesitation, she placed it back in the holder beside Rob’s. Then she turned and left the bathroom, killing the light switch on her way out.

  A quick cuddle with Custard later, she pulled on her coat and left through the front door. She didn’t want to look back. For some reason, the thought of seeing that big, goofy dog staring after her and knowing she wasn’t coming back tonight crumpled her insides like an aluminum can that had just been stepped on. So she kept walking, the heels on her boots clicking their way up Rob’s front walk.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said, putting her bag in the trunk Rob had opened for her. Her breath fogged out in front of her in the cold. “Had to say ’bye to Custard.”

  “It’s okay,” Rob said, shutting the trunk. “I’ll lock up and be out in just a second.”

  She sank down into the passenger seat and shut the door behind her, watching as Rob trotted down the walk to the front door.

  Her phone pinged with a new text message.

  Hey, sweetie! How are things? I am dying to talk to you.

  The honeymoon was nice, but it’s so great to be back home. Catch up soon?

  Bree. Stacey smiled at her phone. Her cousin really did have incredible timing.

  Most definitely. I’m finally going back to work today, and then I get to move back into my apartment.

  The reply came as Rob was rounding the car.

  Get to? More like have to, LOL. How is Big Guns?

  Declared your undying love for him yet?

  The door opened, and Stacey jumped and killed the screen like a kid caught doing something they shouldn’t be doing. Fortunately for her, Rob didn’t seem to notice.

  “Ready?”

  “Yes,” she said with a tight smile. Rob put on his shades—it was a fairly sunny morning for early December—and shifted the car into REVERSE.

  Her phone pinged again.

  Oh, come on, honey, you know I was just kidding.

  Don’t be mad.

  Sabrina would have seen that she’d read the text without responding. She was tempted to keep ignoring it, but Bree wasn’t the type to give up easily. Stacey unlocked the screen and began typing out her response.

  “Back to work already?”

  “No,” Stacey said, “it’s just my cousin. She’s back home now.”

  I’m not mad, just in the car with Rob. I’ll text you later.

  The engine purred louder as Rob accelerated to merge onto the highway.

  Okay. I want details, though! ; )

  “She was the one on the honeymoon, right?”

  Stacey tucked her phone into her purse as she replied, “Yeah, they stayed in Hawaii. It was nice, but definitely not the kind of trip I would have picked. Suited Bree, though.”

  “What kind of trip would you pick, if not a tropical island?”

  She turned her head so fast to look at him she was afraid she’d given herself whiplash. Seriously? Her heartbeat quickened. The thought of being on a vacation with Rob—much less a honeymoon—sent her imagination sailing right off the edge of fantasyland’s cliff.

  He glanced at her past the edge of his sunglasses, and she realized she’d taken much too long to respond.

  “Oh, Europe, I think. I mean, beaches are beautiful, but I think a honeymoon should be a once-in-a-lifetime experience. So, Paris, London, Florence, Madrid, I’d want to do a whole tour of Europe.”

  The way his smile slowly curled his lips made her melt into her boots.

  “Makes sense.”

  Her fingers worried the toggles on her coat as she debated. Well, he’d asked first, so why not her?

  * * *

  “Where would you go on a honeymoon?”

  The question shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did.

  After the week they’d just had, he had wondered if things were stalling out with Stacey. He’d tried to give her some space to heal, to come to grips with what had happened to her. But he’d never stopped wanting her, and showing her that he desired her. They’d slept together in the same bed, only becoming intimate in the dark. He’d initiated things in the light, but she never agreed unless it was dark. He had tried to show her in a million small ways that she was beautiful to him, but none of his efforts had paid off. So for her to ask that question? Confusing, but he’d play along.

  “Europe would be nice,” he agreed, settling into the right lane as traffic moved along at a decent clip. “I went to London in college, but it wasn’t a long stay. It would be nice to go there again, and see more of Europe.”

  “Never thought about anything else?” she pressed. Her cell
phone chirped again, but she ignored it.

  He had, but the answer wasn’t one she was looking for.

  “Machu Picchu,” he said. “I’d love to see it, do some hiking.”

  Her blanch was easy to see even from the corner of his eye. He didn’t shake his head, even though he wanted to.

  Of course she’d take that as a sign they weren’t compatible. But hell, what did that idea have to do with the thought that they could be together if they wanted to? He didn’t want to end up with someone who was a copy of him. He wanted to be with someone who complemented him. Who was soft where he was hard. Who would think of a solution while he was busy being bullheaded and sticking to the wrong way of looking at a problem. Who would help him challenge himself in other areas of his life.

  Someone like Stacey.

  All too soon, he was winding through the streets of downtown. He thought about what to say to her, how to communicate the idea that he liked her—really, really liked her—and that he was going to miss her in his house tonight. In his bed. Having her to come home to was a luxury, a commodity he’d not expected to enjoy quite so much.

  But he didn’t have time to craft the perfect “I’ll miss you” speech. They were there in front of her building, and there was only the empty loading zone.

  “Can you pop the trunk for me?” she asked as she unbuckled her seatbelt when he came to a stop.

  In response, he hit the button, and the trunk popped open.

  Her hand on the door latch, she turned her head to look at him. He stared into her eyes, so impossibly, beautifully blue. Her pink lips, perfectly complemented by the shade of lipstick she wore, were turned down at the corners. That furrow was back between her brows, and without thought he reached over to smooth it out with his thumb.

  “I guess this is good-bye?”