She drops her chin. “Because you’re being nice to me?”
“I’ve been nice to you before. Plenty of times. I’ve given you rides, invited you over to my house for dinner, and poured out your overly sweet milkshake coffee.”
“How is that last one being sweet? I was enjoying that coffee.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t call it coffee. It’s a coffee flavored beverage. Or frozen drink. Not coffee. Haven’t I taught you anything at all about good coffee?” I hold my right hand over my heart.
“Fine.”
“Fine’s never good coming out of a woman’s mouth and not followed by another word.”
“You think you were being nice. I can accept that.”
I throw her a sidelong glance as I drive north to Greenbank. “I am nice. Give into my niceness. Quit trying to fight against it.”
“Is this the part in the horror movie when your eyes begin to glow and a different voice comes out of your mouth chanting ‘one of us’ or ‘get out’ depending on the movie?”
My tires spin on the gravel shoulder before I straighten the wheels. I barely notice because I’m too busy gawking at Cari.
“Watch where you’re going and quit staring at me.”
Focusing my eyes on the road, I keep sneaking side glances at her.
“What did I say? I admitted you can be nice. Was there something else?”
I finally find my words. “You think of life in terms of horror movie scenarios, too?”
She brings her heels up to the dashboard and tucks her arms around her knees. “Sometimes. I mean, not all the time. Not when I’m really happy. Or having sex.”
“But other times?”
“I saw The Shining with my older cousins when I was way too young. We lied to my parents that I’d go to bed before they started watching it. I should’ve listened. I couldn’t sleep that night or the next without being in my parents’ bed, and even then I had nightmares. I don’t think I’ve ever fully recovered.”
“Oh. So you don’t like horror movies?” Disappointment punches me in the stomach.
“No, I love them. However, I have to watch them during the day and with other people. Never at night and never alone.”
“You have a lot of rules. Did the Devil Spawn like horror movies?”
“Damien? He couldn’t stand anything bloody or gory.”
“He’s a walking horror movie.”
“I know. The irony is completely lost on him.”
“Or is it?” I drop my voice down a couple of registers. “Maybe that’s part of his demonic plot for world domination.”
“Good luck with that. He’s a tiny man who likes to run with the big dogs. He’s like one of those giant chocolate Easter bunnies. I always coveted the biggest chocolate bunny until my dad finally gave in and bought me one the day after Easter when it was on clearance.
“Imagine my disappointment when I realized my huge bunny was mostly air. Completely hollow and completely misleading. That sums up Damien to a T.”
“It’s a good thing you met me and came to your senses.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Add that to the long list of nice things I’ve done for you.”
LATER IN THE week, the perfect date unfolds in my head when Carter tells me he’s going to Pullman for a weekend of watching baseball with his college friends.
A perfect date involving Cari. Not Carter.
No annoying brother around all the time trying to be charming.
A weekend with the house to ourselves.
Being naked
Sex. Lots of sex.
And as many horror movies as we can binge on in between having sex.
Now to figure out a way to invite her so she’ll have to say yes.
Since I don’t really date, I’m not sure the best way to ask her. I could text her the classic “Netflix and Chill?” invite, but somehow I don’t think that’s going to win her over.
I decide on the old-school approach: calling her.
I hit dial.
It rings and rings.
My patience is about to evaporate when she picks up.
“Hello, you’ve reached Cari’s phone. If this is a heavy breathing perv, be sure to leave me a voicemail. Otherwise, text me. Because it’s the twenty-first century and that’s what phones are for. You decide what kind of person you are at the beep. Beep,” she says and the line goes quiet.
I stare at my phone waiting for the actual voicemail beep.
“Ah, so you are a pervert.” Her laughter is muffled, like she’s covering the mic.
“You are the strangest woman I’ve ever met.”
“Is that your follow-up message to the heavy breathing? You need to work on your creepy pervert routine.”
I pant into the phone and moan, letting the sound rumble in my chest.
For a moment I listen to her breathing as she listens to mine on the other end.
“Well, you’re definitely in the top five of my weirdest phone calls. Congratulations.”
This isn’t going as smoothly as I’d hoped. “Don’t hang up!”
She doesn’t respond, but doesn’t disconnect.
“I called for a reason.”
“One would assume that unless you wanted to listen to my voice on voicemail.”
“I wanted to ask you out.”
“Past tense?”
Now I’m confused. “No, for next weekend.”
She giggles. “I meant the ‘wanted’ part is past tense.”
“No, I still want to. You distracted me with the heavy breathing weirdness.”
“Then you should.”
“Should what?”
I hear the exhale of her sigh. “Do what you wanted to do. I’m not going to say it because then I’d be the one asking you to ask me.”
Completely confused, I remain silent.
“I’m going to hang up now. Let’s pretend this conversation never happened.”
“Wait!” Glancing at my phone, I make sure she hasn’t hung up.
“I called to ask you out. On a date. Nothing super serious or formal. Come over this weekend. We’ll watch horror movies, but only during the day. Carter’s gone until Sunday evening. We can hang out and do other things. Without interruption.” At least my voice doesn’t crack during my awkward speech.
“Are you asking me to Netflix and Chill with you?”
I bang my head against an invisible wall. “Maybe? Depends on your answer.”
“Let me check my social calendar.” She pauses and I hear things rustling around in the background. “Looks like I’m free all weekend.”
“Good.”
“What should I bring? Popcorn? Ice cream? Condoms?”
Hands down, this is the oddest conversation of my life. Yes, I’m basically asking her to come over for sex, but I never expected her to be so open to it. I figured we’d play the typical games where we pretend we’ll just hang out and watch movies. Let nature take over and all that.
“Bring yourself.”
“But you don’t know what kind of ice cream I like.”
“And you don’t know what size condoms I use.”
“I assumed I’d just buy the biggest box of the biggest ones they have.”
“I guess you do pay attention.”
Her giggle sounds more amused than nervous.
“Come over any time after four on Friday.”
“Erik?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks for asking me out and not hanging up because I’m weird.”
I shake my head and realize she can’t see my smile. “I’m weird, too.”
“You are. Definitely weirder than me.”
“It’s not a competition.”
“You’d win.”
“You’d take the silver.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
I listen to her breathe. “Who’s the heavy breathing pervert now?”
Her laughter is the last thing I hear before she ends the call.
Chuckling, I glance around the room. The house is a mess. Carter’s bowl sits on the counter next to the opened cereal from breakfast this morning. A box of pizza crusts rests on top of the garbage can. That’s just the kitchen. Smelly socks and boots occupy the floor space by my feet. I can’t blame Carter for those. I pick up my boots and set them by the front door.
I should probably change my sheets and wash some towels.
Time to take down the “no girls allowed” sign and clean up the Phallus Palace.
Cari and I sprawl out on the couch. She’s claimed the shorter section as hers for the duration. I stretch over the longer part of the L with my feet pointed away from her. My head rests on one of the back cushions.
“I like your glasses.” Her compliment comes out of nowhere. “You should wear them more often.”
“Why’s that?” Earlier today I went for a long swim and wore my prescription goggles. Being lazy, I never bothered to put in my contacts again.
“You look hot in them. Less the kind of guy who would live in a Phallus Palace and more together.”
“Are you calling me a hipster?” My glasses do not have thick black frames, but they are tortoiseshell.
“No, never!” She pulls a pillow over her head to protect herself.
I tug it away and tuck it behind my head. Tension crackles between us that’s more than pent up sexual energy. She blinks a few times and parts her lips.
With a case of cold feet, I change the subject.
“The horse scene in The Ring was filmed off of Whidbey,” I say proudly, like I had anything to do with it. We’re two movies into our afternoon of binge watching horror until it gets dark outside. Cari’s rule.
She closes her mouth and stares at the TV. “This island is ripe with creepy places. I was driving down Campbell Road and saw a sign for a lakeside Bible camp. Do you know that place? Super creepy sign. Reminded me of Friday the 13th.”
“Oh yeah. That sign has been there for years. It’s a tribute to all those who died during the massacre in the early eighties. The son of one of the former directors went crazy and killed everyone. No one heard anything across the lake. Not even the screaming.” Leaning closer, I stare into her eyes for added impact.
She’s close enough to me I can hear her breath hitch and watch her pupils dilate. “Wait, was Friday the 13th based on a real camp here?”
“No one can hear you scream in the woods.” I lower my eyebrows and press my lips together into a serious expression. I manage to keep a straight face for about seven-point-five seconds.
She shoves me, and I let myself topple over. “I can’t believe you let me believe you!”
“I let you believe? I’m pretty sure I couldn’t control your mind or actions no matter how hard I tried.” I flatten my lips in exaggerated frustration. “You’re a wild horse, unbreakable and only a fool would try to tame you.”
“What about my body?” she whispers, twisting a narrow lock of hair around her forefinger.
I widen my eyes in surprise. “Excuse me?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
Is she asking me to take control now? I test her words with action by shifting positions to lean over her. She reclines against the couch cushions, her hair spreading over the upholstery. “I’m not sure I do.”
“I like it when you take control.”
“Are you sure?” I hover over her, shifting my legs to her side of the couch, pinning her to the couch with my hips.
She opens her legs and I settle between her thighs.
Grabbing my hand, she places it on her other wrist. “Yes.”
I inhale sharp and fast. From the moment we met, we’ve had a battle of personalities, a fight to the death over who can be more stubborn and arrogant.
She’s flipped my life ass over elbows, bruised my ego, and turned me on like no other woman. Now she’s telling me she wants me to take over. Control her.
Inside, I know she has all the power. From the moment on the dance floor when she bumped into me and we danced together, I’ve stood in the center of her tornado.
“Please,” she whispers.
In her ever-changing green eyes I see a need to give into something bigger than the simple act of us having sex. This is a crossroads for us. The first time we had sex, we fucked, releasing the tension between us. Scratching an itch.
Not saying it wasn’t pretty amazing.
Best sex of my life.
Then why does the look in her eyes right now frighten me?
No, it’s not the same as being scared by a movie or imagined monsters.
The fear stems from wondering if I’m enough to be what she needs.
My grip tightens on her wrist and I match it with my other hand, stretching both her arms above her head.
“Kiss me.” She arches her neck to get closer to my mouth.
“For someone who wants to give up control, you’re very bossy.” I suck her bottom lip into my mouth and put pressure on the plump skin with my teeth. She’s unable to speak.
Releasing her lip, I soothe the bite with my tongue. When I slide it inside of her sweet mouth, her fingers curl against my hands.
I don’t allow her to control the kiss. At all. My mouth crashes against hers as my tongue seeks out hers. Her lips taste salty and I wonder if mine are the same.
“Hold onto the arm of the couch.” I press her hands against the edge. “Don’t let go.”
I need my hands free for what I want do to next. Her eyes are full of trust and excitement.
My lips leave a wet trail from her mouth along her jaw and down her neck.
I make sure her hands are pressed against the arm before moving lower. “Be still.”
She bites her bottom lip. I briefly kiss the same spot. She tries to deepen the kiss, but I pull away.
“I’m in control. Remember that.”
I softly trace over the outline of her bra through her shirt, wondering what color it is. Easy enough to find out. Pinching the hem between my fingers, I peek underneath the fabric like I’m lifting the corner of the wrapping on my presents under the Christmas tree.
Black lace.
I push the shirt up farther and an idea strikes me. I slide the fabric higher and over her face, tugging until she reappears, but the sleeves still cover her arms. “Mmm . . . I like this.”
Brushing my nose softly along her cheek, I inhale her warm scent below her ear. Her normal floral and raspberry combination mixes with melted butter from the popcorn.
“You smell like pie.” I suck on the spot near her hairline behind her ear.
She squirms and I skim my hand down her torso, stilling her.
“I love pie.” It’s not a euphemism. Pie and coffee are the perfect combination.
Distracted by her scent, I forget about her breasts for a moment.
This is how much I love pie.
I drop one foot to the floor for leverage and sweep my tongue into her mouth, eager to taste her again. She moans and lifts her hips, grinding against my thigh.
“Patience.”
She moans and nips at my bottom lip before sucking on my tongue. The action goes straight to my cock, reminding me that every moment I tease her, I’m torturing myself.
Thinking I could have sex with her and walk away is one of my stupider ideas. And there’ve been a lot recently.
Like the time I went off all carbs and sugar. One bite of pie and I couldn’t stop.
The baked good.
I inhale Cari’s raspberry scent again and lick the corner of my mouth.
Standing, I eye her position. She squirms but doesn’t move her arms. Proving I’m a masochist, I decide to tease her some more.
“I’ll be right back. Don’t move.” I lean down to kiss the middle of her chest. “I’m serious. I’ll know.”
Her exhale is ragged, but she nods.
I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m buying myself time to figure i
t out.
In the bathroom, I stare at myself in the mirror while I come up with a plan. I reach into the cupboard for the box of condoms. Only two remain and I make a note I need to buy more tomorrow, then hide a box in my bedroom so Carter doesn’t steal them all before I can use them with Cari.
I’ve lived with Carter my entire life with the exception of our years at college. Maybe it’s time to start thinking about getting my own place. Another few years of cohabitating together as bachelors might turn us both feral.
The empty toilet roll on the holder catches my eye. I grab the last roll from the cupboard.
Feral might be closer than I realized.
I find Cari in the same spot with her eyes closed. She’s too beautiful to be in a dumpy house in the woods on a nowhere island with a semi-feral guy like me.
“I thought you might have climbed out a window.” Her lips smirk as she fights a smile.
“You’re so sexy.” I lean down to kiss her, sucking on her soft bottom lip.
“And you’re wearing too many clothes.”
Her echo of my words from the first time we had sex make me smile. “Get up.”
Opening her eyes, she stares at me. “Is this a sexy game of Simon Says? Will you punish me if I don’t follow your commands correctly?”
Her words unsettle me. “I don’t want to punish you.”
A short staring contest follows and I get lost in her eyes.
“Not even a spanking if I ask nicely?”
That clears my brain fog. “What?”
I’m in way over my head with this woman.
“You want me to spank you?”
I don’t let her answer when I pick her up and throw her over my shoulder. Her hands are still tangled in her shirt as she bounces against my back while I walk down the hall to my room. With a kick, I open the door and toss her on the bed.
She’s laughing when she lands. I love the sound.
I flip her over by her legs and rub her ass. “Spanking, huh?”
She wiggles as her laughter catches in her throat. Her voice is breathy when she whispers, “Yes?”
There’s an uncertain question hanging off the end of her words that quiets her laughter. She’s nervous, but curious.
“You trust me?”
“Yes.” No doubt lingers in her words.
I want to ask her why in the world would she trust me, but I’m not sure I want the answer. Instead, I rub my hand over the curves of her hips and butt. I place a kiss at the base of her spine before gently slapping her left cheek.
Anything but Love (Wingmen #3) Page 17
