Anything but Love (Wingmen #3)

by Daisy Prescott

  The soft moan from her lips ignites something in me. I strip off her pants, leaving her only in her bra and underwear, which are pretty fancy for a pizza and movie hangout.

  She wants this.

  And for some strange reason, me.

  I’m happy to give her both.

  I spank her again and watch as her skin pinks beneath the black lace. I need a clear view, so I tug off the scrap of fabric.

  Her beauty and vulnerability steal my breath. Beneath the defensive layers of snark and quick temper, she’s gentle and open. Or wants to be.

  The woman I first saw as overly confident to the point of being stuck up is gone. This woman, this version of Cari blows my mind. Playful, vulnerable, curious, and exposed, she’s never been more beautiful.

  I don’t want to bend her to my will or punish her. That would be a lie. I’d happily hand over control. Hell, I think I already have.

  I kiss the rosy skin and run my nose up her spine, moving her hair out of the way to kiss her neck. She turns her head, allowing me more access.

  “You’re beautiful,” I whisper against her ear before kissing her cheek. It’s her mouth I want to kiss, need to kiss.

  I shift on the bed and roll her beneath me. Our eyes lock. I can see the excitement and lust in hers, and something else.

  Uncertainty.

  Maybe she feels the edge of the cliff we’re about to leap off like I do.

  She pulls me down to her mouth, licks my lip, and swallows my breath.

  Afraid to say something stupid, I kiss her back hard. My teeth hit hers as the kiss becomes messy, desperate.

  Her nimble hands strip me of my clothes in seconds. I grab the condom before tossing my jeans to the floor.

  This time she straddles me. So much for letting me have complete control. I knew she couldn’t give it up.

  And I’m fine with that.

  This time.

  I suspect neither of us will ever fully surrender power to the other, we’ll take turns being in control, allowing each other the chance to be vulnerable.

  She takes me in her hand and slides over me. With her hand on my chest, she lowers herself and her heat engulfs me. I follow the rhythm she sets, watching as she focuses on her pleasure. I place my thumb above where we’re joined and press, adding to her pleasure. Her eyes close as her muscles tense and she comes. I’m becoming addicted to her O face and want to see it multiple times a day.

  Again we lock eyes and she smiles down at me before kissing me softly.

  I change our positions, rolling her underneath me, before picking up my pace.

  I’m torn between giving into this pleasure and letting it sweep me away or trying to draw this out for as long as possible.

  I slow my pace.

  “Is something wrong?” Cari touches my face.

  “Nothing. I want this to last, so let’s slow things down.”

  Her eyes widen with understanding.

  Our movements become unhurried, less frenzied. I use my hands and mouth to acquaint myself with new areas of her body. Her fingers tangle in my hair, skim over my back, and grip my ass, something I think she’s more than fond of.

  Can’t blame her.

  We can’t restrain ourselves for long before the need builds again.

  She moves on top of me once more and I stare up at her as she goes for a double. It’s something I’ve always envied about women: the multiple orgasm.

  I kiss her breast and suck her nipple into my mouth. Using less than gentle pressure, I combine a little pain with her pleasure, once again pushing her over the edge.

  My self-control shatters and I close my eyes, coming, cursing, and whispering her name.

  Her soft laughter gently reminds me she’s still lying on top of me. Her breasts brush against my chest as she giggles.

  I cup her ass and squeeze. “Why are you laughing?”

  “I’m not laughing at you.” Giggling, she sits up and I slide out of her.

  I arch my eyebrow in doubt.

  “No, it’s the part before.”

  “Which one? Dirty Simon Says?” I tap her leg and she slides off. Quickly taking care of the condom, I turn back to her.

  “I asked you to spank me.”

  “And I did.”

  “I’ve never done that before.”

  “Been bossy? You do it all the time.” I soften my words with a peck to her mouth.

  “No, the spanking part.”

  “Did you like it?”

  She nods, looking shy. “You could probably tell how much I enjoyed it.”

  “Want me to do it again?” Jokingly, I palm her ass as she lies on her side.

  “Maybe not right now.” She kisses me softly.

  “That’s not a never.”

  “No, it’s definitely not.” With a yawn, she says, “Let’s cuddle.”

  “So bossy.” I lift my arm and she snuggles closer against my side.

  “You like it.”

  “Never said I didn’t.” My own yawn follows hers.

  A loud ringing wakes me up. The room is dark and I’m disoriented. My contacts are still in and I curse that I didn’t take them out before falling asleep. Again.

  “You have a landline?” Cari’s voice asks from beside me. She’s still curled into my side.

  I reach for my phone on the nightstand and can’t find it. The ringing continues.

  “No one ever calls the house phone, but we have it because of power outages and general cell phone suckage.”

  “I think someone’s calling it now.”

  There’s only one reason anyone would be calling that number. I leap out of bed and jog down the hall, skirting around the kitchen island to grab the receiver before it stops ringing.

  “Mom?” I ask.

  “Oh, good. You’re okay. I’ve been trying your cell and it went straight to voicemail.”

  “I’m fine.” I spot my phone on the coffee table. “Forgot to charge it.”

  “Are you sleeping? It’s only eight o’clock. You feeling okay?” Her voice holds concern.

  “Yeah. Fell asleep watching a movie.”

  “I hate to bother you, but I’m over in town with your grandmother doing some shopping. We’re catching the ferry.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Well . . . of course. We’re having a lovely day.” Inside her pause I hear the unspoken words and the reason for her call. I run my hand over my head and down my face.

  “Where is he?”

  “At the Freeland Café. Said he was just going to get some dinner since I’m in town today.”

  “Can’t he stay there until you get home?” I really don’t want to leave Cari to play chauffeur to my drunken father.

  “They’re closing at nine. I won’t make it back by then.”

  “Think he’ll take a cab?”

  “You know he hates spending money on that sort of thing. Plus, his pride would never allow him to admit he’s too drunk to drive.”

  With a sigh I agree to pick him up.

  Not knowing how long this errand will take me, I realize I need to either expose my family’s dirty secret to Cari or send her home, ending our weekend early.

  As always, I go for the easiest option.

  I make up an excuse about a work emergency and tell her it might be hours or overnight before I get things sorted.

  I can see the doubt in her eyes about the truth of my story.

  It’s easy to ignore how shitty I feel once she leaves.

  I text another apology to Cari the next morning. I even invite her over for dinner. She politely declines. No explanation. No emojis to lighten the mood.

  Instead, I spend the rest of the weekend at the warehouse doing extra work that could wait until Monday. It lessens the guilt of my lie on Friday night.

  Happy Monday Pretty Girls.

  Looks like our favorite HAG got busy while in Cabo. I have an exclusive about a super hot night involving tequila, an inflatable cock (not the rooster, you animal lovers
), and not one, but two ladies heating up the dance floor and the bed of our favorite guy.

  Can’t say I’m not jealous to the tips of my fabulous blond hair.

  If only we had photographic evidence of these shenanigans.

  Or video.

  Can you imagine, pretty girls?! Can. You. Imagine.

  I can.

  Excuse me while I go take a cold shower.

  I might be gone a while.

  Smooches!

  Gomez

  “PLEASE TELL ME there isn’t a sex tape.” Carter holds his phone in front of me so I can read his screen. We’re sitting in the bar area of China Ruby in Freeland, splitting some appetizers and having a couple of beers on Monday night.

  “You’re the one who should be worried about a sex tape, bro. I went home alone that night.” I dip my spring roll in some spicy mustard. It burns, but in a good way.

  He pales and turns off his phone.

  “C? Something you need to share?”

  “Nope. There’s no video. Nothing to worry about.” He’s fascinated by a fried shrimp.

  “You sure? You’ve turned a weird pale green color.”

  “I fell asleep. You know, after.”

  “It happens. I figured as much since you didn’t show up back at our hotel until the next morning.”

  “When I woke up, there were three of us in the bed.”

  Wow. Go, bro.

  “You can stop talking now. I don’t need the details of your exploits.”

  “Nothing happened. But what if they snapped a pic of the three of us while I was asleep? They could’ve Snapchatted it and someone could’ve saved it. From the back, we look enough alike.”

  My hand slips on my pint glass. I manage to catch it with my other hand before it drops to the ground. “Seriously?”

  He tugs at the neck of his T-shirt and his eyes go wide like a freaked out cow. “I kind of forgot about the whole night until I saw the post.”

  Naked in the sun pics are one thing, and there’s enough of them out there now it’s all old news. A threesome with Hot Ass Guy puts a new spin on everything.

  The good news is rumor of my threesome should dispel any lingering gay gossip.

  Except Gomez.

  He’s undeterred by facts or reality.

  Bad news? My name will once again be in the spotlight. If Carter is right, there could be photos of him in bed with two women. Everyone will think it’s me. The truth won’t matter for the story to go viral.

  I text my new publicist Roslyn and tell her to check out Gomez.

  *Already on it.*

  Dan is right. She’s amazing.

  *I might be in love with you.*

  *Not professional. Save it for your photographer.*

  What the hell?

  *Yeah right. We have a truce.*

  *If that’s what you want to call it, sure. Let me know when you want to go public and I’ll spin it as a love story for the ages.*

  I stare at her message.

  *Don’t believe me? Ask your brother. Or Daniel.*

  *Or anyone who’s been around the two of you.*

  “Hey Carter?”

  “Yes, Brother Erik? Why so formal with the names?”

  “Based on observation of Cari and me together, would you think something is going on between us? Other than a barely contained seething dislike of one another?”

  He snorts and slaps me on the shoulder. “You’re hysterical, baby bro.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “You two have wanted to fuck each other since the bar in Cabo. I’m amazed you haven’t yet.”

  “What the—”

  “I totally walked in on you two about to kiss weeks ago. Wait, are you serious? You think no one notices the way the two of you stare at each other? You’re not subtle with all the touching. Or the eye-fucking. At all.” He slaps my back again. This time it hurts.

  I rub the spot. “Quit.”

  His laughter draws attention to us. I feel multiple sets of eyes on us and the whispers begin.

  “You really are clueless when it comes to women.”

  “Shh. We have an audience.” I grip his forearm.

  He glances up and waves at the pair of women staring at us from the bar. “Maybe we should go introduce ourselves.”

  “You’re the one who apparently likes threesomes.”

  “Not according to Gomez and the Internet. And you know you can believe everything you read online.” He smirks and walks over to the ladies at the bar.

  Staying behind, I finish off the shrimp. He thinks he’s so funny.

  I tap my phone to bring it to life and pull up my texts with Cari. My finger hovers over the screen as I fight the urge to assure her Gomez is wrong. To do that, I need to throw Carter under the bus.

  It’s very tempting.

  But why should I need to explain my sex life to her? We’re not dating. I don’t care what Roslyn Porter says. Her whole career is crafting narratives and selling brands. I’m not a brand.

  I’m a simple island boy.

  Six months from now no one will remember my name. Probably not even Cari.

  I just have to wait out Gomez and the rest of the vultures. Then life will go back to normal.

  Me and Carter living in the Phallus Palace.

  Working a hundred hours a week.

  Hanging out with the likes of John and Tom.

  Taking care of my dad and keeping him out of trouble.

  When I list everything, it doesn’t sound like the sweet life.

  Sounds pretty boring and definitely lonely.

  Where does someone like Cari fit into that life?

  She’d run for the first ferry. Hell, she’d probably swim off the island to get away from my reality. Sometimes I wish I could.

  *Don’t believe anything you read online.*

  I hit send on my text to Cari. After almost a week of silence, I’m expecting a reply, I slip my phone into my pocket and enter the warehouse on Thursday afternoon. Jonah and I are tasting beans from a new farmer in Costa Rica our broker discovered.

  The smallest of our roasters whirs with the sound of beans spinning as they roast. A warm, smoky scent fills the air. He releases the hatch and beans pour into the cooling rack where they begin spinning.

  “Smells good so far.” I stand next to him at the roaster watching the beans cool.

  “Hey, didn’t hear you come in. Ready to taste some coffee?” He points at the stainless steel table set up with rows of cups and carafes. “I started brewing a few minutes ago.”

  I grab the clipboards and our forms for tasting and rating the coffee. Silently, we settle into sipping and evaluating the new beans. We hold off any comments until the end so we don’t influence the other’s opinions. It feels good to focus on work and nothing but coffee for a few minutes.

  Jonah scribbles a few notes and sets down his form on the table. Rubbing his beard, he studies me while he leans against the counter.

  I sip the last cup and take my time evaluating the balance of flavor and bitterness before swallowing. “What?”

  “How’s Cari?” He lifts his right eyebrow, the one with the small hoop piercing.

  That came out of nowhere. Nope, not going there. “Can we focus on the coffee?”

  “The beans are great. We both know it.”

  He’s right of course. We’d be fools not to work with this farmer. Good price and great quality are no brainers.

  “Are they willing to ship small orders like ours?” We’ve run into this problem before. We fall in love only to find out we can’t have the product because we’re too small time.

  I’m talking about coffee. Only coffee.

  “They’re a family farm and want to work with roasters directly. It’s a perfect fit.” I can hear the excitement in his voice. “They want us to come visit the farm if we can. I know we don’t have the budget for it now, but how cool would that be?”

  I nod, wishing I could find it in me to be excited about going to
Costa Rica. Or being able to meet any of our farmers. Business is doing okay, but we’re not rolling in extra money. My lack of focus this spring isn’t helping us grow new customers. An idea strikes me.

  “We should talk to Roslyn about Whidbey Joe. Maybe there’s some way of taking my notoriety with the butt stuff and using it to push the business.”

  “You realize ‘butt stuff’ sounds way dirtier than your naked ass pics, right? Are you trying to tell me there’s more to come?”

  “Pun intended?”

  “Definitely. Although I did see the gossip about a threesome in Cabo.”

  “Does everyone read Gomez? I didn’t realize every single person I know is obsessed with celebrities.”

  “The baristas were talking about it this morning.”

  I sit and lean my head back. “Seriously? They probably think they work for the biggest pervert on the island.”

  “I told them to stop speculating about their boss’ sex life.”

  “What did they say?”

  “After gagging, they got back to work.”

  Closing my eyes, I let my head hang down. “I can’t believe this is my life.”

  “Getting back to your idea about using this for good, let’s set up a meeting. People have made careers from worse. It’s all about spin and using any attention, warranted or unwanted.”

  I open my eyes and straighten when he doesn’t continue talking. “What? You have an idea?”

  He’s stroking his beard like it’s a cat belonging to an evil overlord. “A lot of ideas. We definitely need to talk to Roslyn. Sandy and her gossip brigade shouldn’t be the only ones profiting off of your follies.”

  “Profit?” My mouth goes dry.

  “They’re selling those T-shirts and mugs at the farmers’ markets around the island. I heard Connie saying they’re taking orders and looking into selling them online. Supposedly, they can’t keep up with the interest.”

  “Seriously?”

  He nods without smiling. “Not sure I believe them, but it’s got me thinking.”

  “About my ass?”

  “Always. In this case, I’m thinking about how it’s going to make us money.”

  “New T-shirts?”