Lovebird Café Box Set

by Dylann Crush

  His mouth moved against my ear. “We really ought to get you out of that dirty jacket.”

  A chill raced down my spine then back up again as I nodded.

  He met my gaze as he reached for the top of the zipper. Slowly, he slid it down, his eyes following the track it made from my throat to the tops of my thighs. When he had it fully unzipped, he slid his hands inside, running them up my sides, gently tugging his jacket off my shoulders. I let it fall behind me and for the second time that day, I stood before him—naked except for the mud and grime I’d picked up in the cave.

  I swallowed the apprehension that had lodged in my throat as I waited for him to say something, do something, anything.

  “You”—he touched a sensitive spot under my ear—“are so fucking beautiful.” His finger traced the line of my body, following the contours of my collarbone, my shoulder, the outline of my breast, down to my navel, then lower. When he reached my hip he slid his hand around my ass and cupped my bottom. With my inhibitions shredded like the cabbage in Mrs. Cahill’s famous coleslaw, I reacted to the torturous desire rolling through my limbs.

  I threw my arms around his neck, forcing his mouth to mine. Our lips crushed together, a frantic union brought on by a decade of pent-up hormones and sheer horniness. His hands plunged into my hair and I flipped us around, pinning him against the wall, practically climbing him like a cat in heat. He reached down, grabbing my ass with one hand, his fingertips squeezing so hard they’d surely leave bruises. My entire body ached for him like I’d just crossed the desert, and he was a crystal clear pool of fresh, clean water.

  His leg nestled closer, making me straddle his thigh. As he kissed and nipped and caressed and rubbed, I couldn’t help but center myself on his very firm quad. The pressure—it was like finding a magic button I’d forgotten about—exquisite pressure had me practically grinding against his denim-clad leg.

  Something about standing in my own hallway, naked as the day I was born, with a complete stranger guiding me to the first non-self-directed orgasm I’d had in years, seemed so absurd. A giggle worked its way up from my belly. The more I writhed against him, his hands working my ass, his tongue twisting and tangling with mine, the more the giggle grew. I tried to swallow it, force it back down inside. But as his hand came around, taking over for the firm surface of his leg, slipping around in the obscene wetness my drought had brought on, the laugh ripped out of me. I came hard against his hand, a tumble of laughing and moaning bursting from my mouth.

  He put one hand behind me as we careened into the opposite wall. My breasts thrust out as I tried to prop myself up, my legs having suddenly become the consistency of overcooked noodles. His mouth found a nipple, I couldn’t even tell which one. He sucked, grazing his teeth over the sensitive point and I bucked against him, lost to the swell of pleasure coursing through me. His fingers, fuck, those talented, limber, flexible fingers, seemed to know just where to touch, just how hard to press, to wrench the maximum amount of magic from me.

  My laughs finally subsided and I collapsed against the wall. He caught me with an arm behind my back right before my hips hit the hardwood. We both tumbled into a heap on the floor of the hall. I panted, trying to catch my breath, not ready to give up on the blissful aftershocks still pulsing through me.

  Theo put an elbow under his head and turned to face me. His fingers trailed up and down my hip. “You okay?”

  “Okay.” I could barely muster the energy to speak.

  His lips tipped up in a proud, yeah-I-just-finger-fucked-a-crazy-woman-to-the-point-of-collapsing grin.

  “You look pretty damn proud of yourself over there,” I finally managed.

  “Hey, when you’ve got it, you’ve got it.” He clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

  I turned to face him, propping my head up to rest on my hand. “What exactly is it that you think you’ve got?”

  The grin faltered just a smidge. “You know, ‘it’.”

  “‘It’, being?” I played the consummate blonde I hardly ever got accused of being.

  The grin fell considerably lower. “‘It’. You know, the way you came, just then.” His brow creased like maybe he’d imagined me humping his leg in the hallway.

  “Yeah, it was okay.”

  “Okay?” The grin disappeared completely, replaced by a slight frown. “Did I just imagine that?”

  “What?” I narrowed my eyes and peered at him through the lines of my lashes. Giving Theo shit was quickly becoming one of my favorite things to do.

  “Are you fucking with me right now?”

  I rolled him onto his back and straddled him, my fingers going to work on the buckle of his belt. “Not yet, but give me about ninety seconds and we’ll rectify that.”

  The grin reappeared in all of its glory. “You’re awful.”

  My hand reached into his boxers and grabbed hold of his dick. “You sure you want to criticize the woman who’s literally holding your balls in the palm of her hand?”

  23

  Theo

  The hallway floor. The shower. The side of the bathtub. The hallway floor again. For a woman who’d admitted to having a major lack of sex in her life, Scarlett seemed to be making up for lost time and trying to fit in a decade’s worth in the short amount of time we had before I had to hit the road. Not that I minded. Ending her dry spell brought a rapid halt to my own. It was like we’d both forgotten what it felt like to get off, and we couldn’t get enough. Couldn’t get enough of getting off. Yeah, it was like that.

  By the time we ran out of condoms, I had rug burns on my knees, a scratch across my back, and a bruise on my forehead from where I’d whacked it against the shower head. But I wouldn’t change a thing. She sat at the kitchen table catty-corner to me, her hair twisted up on top of her head, her skin pink from a vigorous scrub down in the shower. We were like two horny pre-teens who couldn’t stop smiling at each other.

  I slid a bite of roast into my mouth, closing my eyes to savor the perfection. “This is melt-in-your-mouth good.”

  “I’m glad you like it. Maybe after dinner, we can—”

  “I can’t take anymore tonight.” My poor dick had been through enough. As much as I would love to go another round, I’m pretty sure he was done rallying. Not even the sight of Scarlett’s wide-necked t-shirt slipping off her shoulder, or the way her nipples perked up through her shirt, was enough to bring him past half-mast.

  “I was going to say maybe we can grab dessert.” She popped a cooked carrot in her mouth and chewed.

  I should have been embarrassed. But she’d worn me out to the point where I couldn’t even muster the energy to blush. “I’m going to need to recuperate.”

  “For how long?” Her brow creased.

  “I’ve got a booked week, but I can probably come back next weekend. Take a better camera down in the cave and do a little bit more exploring.”

  “Is that the only reason you want to come back?”

  My heart bloomed like a freaking morning glory blossom turning its face to the sun. “Most likely not.”

  “Mmm.” She scooted her chair closer to me and leaned over. Her shirt hung loose in the front. I could see her tits, unencumbered by a bra. My dick stiffened. Thank God, a definite sign of life. I was worried he might be out of commission for a while.

  “If you’re not busy next weekend…” my voice trailed off after initiating the implication.

  “If I’m not busy, what?”

  “Maybe we can grab dinner?”

  She toyed with her fork, totally aware of me checking out her chest. “Or?”

  “Or revisit your hallway?”

  She let out a short laugh. “I’m not sure my knees can take the hall again.”

  “Oh, I thought that was just me.”

  She sat up, leaning against the back of her chair, totally removing the sight of her awesome tits from my line of vision. My dick flagged at the loss of stimulation. “I’d love to have dinner with you.”

  “Ok
ay, then, it’s a date.” A date. D...a…t…e. The word felt foreign on my tongue. Maybe because I considered it as part of the four-letter word club and hadn’t uttered it in too long to remember.

  “A date,” she agreed. “So what happens next with the cave? You go back, impress your dad with stories about the batshit-covered hole in the ground, and they all praise you for your awesomeness?”

  “Yeah”—I managed a grin as I speared another forkful of meat—“something like that.”

  “Will the rest of your crack team want to come in and take a look?”

  “Probably. At some point. Is that a problem?”

  “No, no problem at all. I’m sure Dottie would appreciate having some repeat business.”

  Dottie. Oh, hell. If I wanted a place to stay next weekend, I’d need to make sure and call her to set it up. Before the witching “Wheel of Fortune” hour tomorrow.

  The front door flew open, slamming into the wall behind it. Heavy steps fell on the floor, coming closer. Scarlett pulled her shirt back up on her shoulder and crossed an arm over her chest just as Rodney poked his head into the kitchen.

  “I’m home.”

  “How was dinner at Grandma’s?” Scarlett asked, her voice losing any flirtatious edge.

  “Fine. Long day. I’m going to finish my math and hit the sack.” Rodney’s gaze swept around the room, settling on me. “Hey.”

  I nodded. “Hey.”

  Scarlett cleared her throat, her eyes narrowing in some silent message to her son.

  “Sorry about last night,” Rodney mumbled, his gaze shifting to the floor in front of him.

  My fork hovered between my plate and my mouth. “I’m glad no one was hurt and y’all made it out safe.”

  Rodney nodded. “Later, man.”

  Scarlett waited until the sound of his steps faded down the hall. “Sorry about that.”

  I shrugged. “Not a problem.”

  Her fork clattered to her plate. “He’s having a hard year. The football thing has been tough on him. All that pressure.”

  “Yeah, it sucks. I mean, it’s cool because you’ve got a whole school behind you, cheering you on when you’re winning.” I used the edge of my fork to separate another bite of roast. “But when things aren’t going your way, they’re the first ones to turn on you.”

  Scarlett’s eyes lit up as she stared at me. Some wheel had started turning in that gorgeous head of hers.

  “What?”

  “You played ball.”

  “Football. Yeah, high school and college. Even spent a few years in the pros up in Canada.”

  She reached out and set her hand on mine. “You could help him.”

  Oh, hell, no. I could see where this was going. I’d barely figured out how to survive my own time in the limelight. I wasn’t sure I’d be the best person to give advice to a fifteen year-old who was just coming into his own. “How about his coach?”

  A strange look crossed Scarlett’s face, but she shook it off almost as soon as it appeared. “Coach Waite has offered to work with Rodney, but I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “There’s too much history there. April and I have bad blood between us.”

  I tipped my glass of sweet tea her direction. “Yeah, I kind of picked up on that.”

  “Well, her hate for all things Jarrett extends to my son. With their boy on the team, I think it would actually hurt Rodney to work independently with the coach.”

  “But a coach’s obligation is to do what’s best for the team. I doubt Coach Waite would let his wife’s personal grudge come between—”

  “I said no, okay?” Her voice came out sharp.

  I threw my hands up, palms out in surrender. “Okay.” There had to be something else going on there. Either that, or the level of small-town tension was too hard to crack.

  Scarlett gazed into the puddle of gravy left on her plate like it might hold the answer. The mood had definitely shifted with Rodney’s arrival.

  “I’d better hit the road.” I pushed back from the table and picked up my plate. “You done?”

  She nodded. “I’ll get this. You’re probably eager to get home. Especially since you’re leaving so much later than you’d planned.”

  I stacked her plate on top of mine and set the dirty dishes on the counter.

  She came up next to me and we both stood there for a moment, our hips brushing, our collective gaze focused on the small window over the kitchen sink.

  “So…” I turned halfway to face her at the same time she turned halfway to face me. “I had a good time this weekend.”

  She bit her bottom lip. “Me too.”

  “A really good time.” I put my finger under her chin, nudging her face up to meet my gaze.

  “Me, too.” Her words came out just above a whisper.

  I put my hand to her waist, feeling her ribs through the lightweight shirt. She leaned into me, pressing her chest against mine as she rose to her tiptoes. My dick engaged. A home cooked meal must have had a rehabilitating effect on him. Too bad for him, he was gearing up for round five, and I had to get out the door.

  She touched her lips to mine, soft, gentle, the taste of sweet tea lingering. I could stay here all night, holding her in my arms. But duty called. Duty and the excitement of being able to share my discovery with the office tomorrow. Even with the anticipation of finally having a chance to impress my dad, it was still hard to tear myself away from Scarlett. She’d touched on something deep inside, reminded me what it felt like to enjoy a woman’s company for more than how she made me feel between the sheets.

  Rodney cleared his throat. I hadn’t heard him heading toward the kitchen. Scarlett jerked back and the two of us stood in awkward silence, trying to pretend we hadn’t just been hooking up in the kitchen.

  “Sorry to interrupt. Just wanted to grab a drink before I start my homework.”

  Scarlett swiped her finger over her mouth. Hopefully Rodney wasn’t familiar with what a woman looked like after she’d been well fucked. The swollen lips, mussed hair, and flushed cheeks were a dead giveaway to me.

  “I’m going to head out.” I gestured toward the front door.

  “Yeah, I’ll walk you to the door,” Scarlett offered.

  I stepped into my boots, part of me looking for any excuse in the world to put off my departure one more time.

  “Text me when you get home?”

  “Sure.” I held my arms out for a final hug.

  She stepped into my embrace. “See you next weekend.”

  “Dinner. You pick the place.” I lowered my head, eager for one last kiss.

  Our lips touched, her tongue sliding against mine. She pulled away first, her hand gliding along my backside and grabbing onto my ass. “You might want to bring some kneepads.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” With a grin, I stepped off the porch and walked backward to my truck so I could keep looking at her as long as possible. Scarlett leaned against the door, her hip cocked, the light behind her filtering through her shirt, outlining her slim frame. In that moment I decided two things: I was definitely coming back next weekend, and I’d bring a pair of knee pads for each of us.

  24

  Scarlett

  “So I saw you with a certain out-of-towner at the game this weekend.” Cassie paused to fill my cup with coffee as I sat on my favorite stool at the Lovebird Café.

  “Oh, yeah?” My best bet was to play things cool. No sense letting anyone know how much I’d enjoyed Theo’s company.

  She continued to talk to me as she brushed past to deliver a tray of food. “Are you eating this morning or just here for the caffeine?”

  “Actually, I wanted to ask you about something else.” I reached into the bag hanging from the back of my chair and pulled out a jar of my homemade hot fudge sauce. Talking to Theo this weekend made me realize how I’d been living on auto pilot. My life had become a predictable routine of work, family, and caring for Rodney. Somewhere i
n all there I’d lost sight of myself. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy my job at the Cut ‘N Curl. But a part of me always wanted more.

  “What’s up?” Cassie paused in front of me and set the carafe of coffee down on the counter.

  I slid the jar of hot fudge across to her. “I was wondering if you’d try this and let me know what you think.”

  “Is this the legendary hot fudge sauce I’ve been hearing about for years?” She picked up the Mason jar and rolled it around in her hands. “I was beginning to think it was some kind of local legend.”

  My mouth split into a lopsided grin. “I didn’t know you’d heard about it.”

  “May I?” Cassie held up the jar and prepared to twist off the cap.

  “Yes, please.” I continued to chatter while she removed the top and reached for a spoon. “I’ve always thought about trying to make it in bigger batches.”

  Cassie eyed me as she dipped the spoon into the jar.

  My heart thumped, my fingers went numb. I held my breath as I waited for her to pass judgment.

  The spoon seemed to slide into her mouth in slow motion. Her face didn’t reveal any kind of reaction. My cheeks prickled. It wasn’t good. I could tell by the look on her face. My gaze shifted to my lap and I twisted my hands together, trying to dispel the disappointment.

  “How much do you want for it?” Cassie asked.

  I glanced up. “What?”

  “I don’t know what you put in there, but it’s the best hot fudge I’ve ever tasted. What are your plans? You want to sell it here at the Lovebird or do you want to go bigger?”

  “You like it?”

  Cassie leaned across the counter and lowered her voice. “I don’t like it, I love it.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. Now tell me, what do you want to do with it and how can I help you?”

  My heart seemed to come to a thudding halt. Darkness fuzzed the edged of my vision. She liked it. I’d been too chicken to try to do anything with it up until now. But with Cassie’s positive reaction, it seemed like a world of possibilities opened up in front of me.