Easy Love

by Piper Lawson

  Fuck. I don’t remember that.

  I think fast. “Right. Well, I have a testimonial couple who provided some quotes. I could take you through it.”

  “I only have a minute now, but let’s set up a time to talk,” he suggests.

  I nod. “Sure. Thank you.”

  I hang up with a fist pump.

  Then hit another contact on my phone.

  I listen to the ring once. Twice.

  “Dr. Strange,” Rena answers. “What a pleasurable surprise.”

  “I think the word is ‘pleasant.’”

  The low sound of her laughter drags down my back. “You sure about that, Wes?”

  The moment she says my name, two things happen.

  One, I know she doesn’t regret what happened last night, which is a huge relief I didn’t know I was waiting on until now.

  Two, I realize I’m sitting in my office with a full-fledged hard-on, because Rena’s voice goes straight for my dick as if she knows where to find it.

  Oh, wait, she does.

  I’m going to have to stop the inner monologue making fun of my teenage students for their rampant hormones.

  I clear my throat. “Listen. Do you remember calling Ben last night?”

  “Nope.”

  “Apparently, we—I—did.”

  Rena gasps. “Oh my God. Vaguely. That must have been between two and three.” After my silence, she clarifies, “Back to the Future II and III, I mean.”

  Because we didn’t have a second round, or a third.

  But now I’m thinking about it.

  Tasting her while she moans, naked, over me.

  Taking her from behind, that icy ponytail wrapped around my hand.

  Sliding my dick between her parted lips. Watching her eyes change color as she sucks me off.

  “Right. Well, I told him we have a compelling testimonial and he said he’s willing to talk again. You and I should meet,” I decide. “To get the plan together.”

  “Good idea. When?”

  I wait a beat. “You busy now?”

  “Some client work’s kicking my ass. When I get done, I need to get something for my friend’s wedding shower.”

  That’s how, thirty minutes later, instead of working on the final revisions for my paper, I’m in a bookstore in Chelsea.

  An interesting bookstore.

  “You’re buying a gift?” I prompt.

  “For Haley.” I remember her mentioning her school friend who still lives in Philadelphia with her rock-star boyfriend. Fiancé?

  I flip through a book. “This is… detailed.”

  I look up to find Rena studying me. Her red dress is high at the neck and sleeveless and shows off her long legs. Her hair’s pulled back in the usual ponytail, which has a dirty part of my brain working overtime.

  But it’s the smile playing at the corner of her lips that captures my attention.

  She cocks her head. “You keep looking at my mouth.”

  “You aren’t wearing lipstick.” She looks surprised. “You weren’t wearing it last night either. You were at the debate. But not at my place.”

  “It was a chaotic day.” She presses those lips together, which doesn’t help my awareness.

  Another patron comes down the row, and I realize we’re way too close for a normal conversation.

  I grudgingly put a few more inches between us.

  Rena scans the row of books. “I realized something when I was doing research for this client Kendall and I have. It’s not about finding the perfect match. It’s about thinking that we have.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “It’s a matter of perspective. For someone with a problem, ASMR has layers. It doesn’t matter that it’s a comb. The comfort we get from that is disproportionate to what it actually is.” I blink at her, and I’m about to blame my denseness on the distracted new reality I’m living in until she continues. “You’re not offering nine alleles, Wes. You’re offering security. Confidence. Relief for people who’ve been looking for so long they’re starting to think there’s no one on the planet for them. This work can tell them there is.

  “‘I deal in human fulfillment,’” she says, and I shake my head.

  “Is that a reference?”

  Her eyes flash. “You’ve never seen Risky Business? With the famous scene where Tom Cruise dances in a button-down and sunglasses?” I raise a brow. “This straight arrow kid hires a beautiful prostitute and falls for her.”

  She laughs as if it’s ludicrous.

  But the idea hits a little too close to home.

  Not the prostitute part. The part about sex leading to feelings.

  Needing a distraction, I reach for a book at random.

  Finding Intimacy Through Sex.

  That’s not better at all.

  When I look up from the book, her gaze is heavy on mine. “You told me sex means something to you.”

  I’m not used to hiding what I’m feeling with her, but something has me guarded. “I’ve always been about intellectual relationships. I tend to downplay the physical side. But when I’m with a woman like that, it matters.”

  “Why.”

  I lower the book, rubbing a hand over my jaw—which I forgot to shave this morning in my hurry to get to work. “Because it means I’ve already looked around inside her head and I still want more.”

  “So, it’s more about what sex means to you than how it feels. In the moment.”

  “Ah, it feels good in the moment too. It felt really fucking good in the moment.”

  The way her cheeks flush is satisfying in a way words couldn’t be.

  Last night had the urgency you’d expect from weeks of pent-up sexual frustration. But it also had the familiarity of someone I’d slept with dozens of times.

  She’s gorgeous. I’ve always known that. But it wasn’t about her body or the way she fit against me, around me. It was her confidence, the way she seemed to get off on me getting off. And I sure as hell got off on making her happy.

  Even if now all I can think about is taking the long road to get there.

  Making her pant and moan and beg on the way.

  “So, it wasn’t another mistake for you,” she says, but it’s a question.

  “No. Not a mistake.”

  She smiles so genuinely it stops my fucking heart.

  I slide the book back, and she reaches for one. The Definitive Couples’ Guide to Sexual Adventure.

  She flips through it, stopping on a page with ideas of where to have sex.

  “How about that book?” I ask, my voice lower than it was a second ago.

  The third suggestion on the list is public places.

  I bite down on my cheek.

  We’ve done it in the dark. I’m wondering what it would be like to do it right here, sunlight streaming in the windows.

  Rena’s gaze darts past me.

  “There’re three other people in the store,” I say under my breath, having glanced at it a few seconds before she did. “In case you were checking.”

  “Why would I be checking?”

  I step closer, reaching for the book in her hands. Our fingers touch on the cover. “Beats me.”

  My breathing’s gotten fifty percent heavier in the last minute.

  She releases the book, and I shelve it.

  She moves down the row toward the back of the store and I follow, as if she’s gotten hold of my tie and is dragging me after her.

  Judging by my reaction, she pretty well owns me.

  Yeah. Never letting her in on that.

  At the end of the row, Rena turns on her heel and tips her face up to mine. “So, if science is the answer to making people fall in love… what’s this about? You and me?”

  God, if I knew.

  “Unless you checked us,” she goes on.

  “I told you. I’m not going to do that.”

  “Because you don’t want a girlfriend.”

  “And you want a boyfriend?” I raise a brow, but she doesn’t th
row the idea out.

  “The label seems so high school. But I like having someone around who I can count on, yes.”

  I’m more than caught off guard now. “Count on for what? To tell you you look pretty?”

  She shoots me a look. “I can tell myself that, thank you.”

  “Then, by deduction, I’d say you want someone who calls you on your bullshit.”

  “I have no bullshit.”

  I lean in, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Bullshit.”

  Her lips twitch although she’s fighting the laugh.

  It’s cute until Rena turns her head, exposing the smooth skin of her neck. Then the joke’s on me.

  I want to kiss every inch. Drag my teeth along it and see what sound she makes. I want to touch her, but not in an aisle full of books about the one thing I’m craving.

  “Wes.” My gaze cuts to hers, and she’s on the same wavelength. “Not here, okay?”

  I fucking love how she asks me, as if it’s a foregone conclusion I’m going to be inside her and we’re simply negotiating the logistics.

  We make it to her office upstairs, and Rena starts toward the family restroom.

  “What if someone needs it?”

  She shoots me a look. “We’ll be five minutes.”

  “Speak for yourself.”

  “I am.”

  If there’s a man on earth who can say no to that, I’d love to meet him.

  I follow her in, slamming the door, then pressing her against it so I can claim her mouth.

  Before we go further, I pause, holding my mouth away from hers. “You can. Count on me.”

  “I know.” Her eyes close and she presses up on her toes.

  I deny her again, and she groans.

  “I don’t want this to mess up our friendship,” I say under my breath. “Because I don’t have a lot of people I trust.”

  Her expression melts. “We won’t. I’d pinkie swear, but there’re other parts I’d rather be interlocking right now.”

  I tug her shirt out of her skirt and grab her perfect breasts, and I swear I could die right now and not regret a thing.

  She replies in kind, touching me, kissing me, with the same fervor.

  Both of us are breathing hard by the time I reach for the button on my pants. I freeze. “Tell me you have a condom.”

  Her green eyes go from half-lidded to wide in a heartbeat. “You don’t… didn’t you come down here to see me?”

  “Of course I came to see you. But I didn’t come down here expecting this.” I glance down.

  The emotion that streaks through her eyes seems important, but it’s gone before I can name it. The smile playing at the corner of her mouth soothes the sudden tension in my body. “You don’t need one.”

  This got real fast. It takes a second for me to put the right words together. “I don’t like the idea of going bareback with someone who’s sleeping with other people.”

  Rena folds her arms over her chest, lifting her chin so her eyes flash in the dim overhead bulb. “I haven’t been with anyone since I met you.” Those words affect me more than her hungry gaze. “When I’m with you, I don’t think about anyone else, Wes. When I’m not with you, I don’t think of anyone else either.”

  A dozen thoughts explode in my brain at once, but I shove them aside. Of all the moments to be present in, this is the one.

  Rena’s beautiful, her curves bare to my hands, and between her thighs, she’s slick. Because she wants this. Wants me.

  And I more than want her.

  I clear my throat. “Okay then.”

  Her lips curve. “Okay then,” she whispers.

  I can’t stop thinking about her. I want to be with her and protect her, and I want her to have the things she wants.

  And I want to be the one to give them to her.

  Shit.

  I’ve never felt that way before, but as she bends under my hands, pants against my mouth, it’s true.

  I stroke my hands down her sides, positioning myself at her entrance. She arches her hips against me, impatient. I groan with the effort of denying her even for a moment.

  “What is it?” she whispers.

  “Say my name,” I mutter hoarsely.

  “We should be quiet.” It’s a warning and a tease.

  I rub my parted lips over hers. “Then say it quietly.”

  “Dr. Strange,” she whispers against my ear.

  I cut off her laugh with my mouth as I press inside her.

  And fuck, I love that I can feel her response. The way she clamps around me. The way she moans into my mouth, sucks on my tongue.

  “Hey Wes,” she pants, her throat vibrating under my lips. “I have—a compliment—for you.”

  I groan. “Now?”

  “Yes.” Her hands are under my shirt, her nails digging into my sides, my back. “I fucking love your cock.”

  I grab her ponytail, twist hard enough to drag her head back and make sex-drunk green eyes meet mine.

  “I’ll allow it.”

  When she comes, I’m trying not to think about what happens after because right now, it’s easier this way.

  21

  Rena

  “We’re out of cauliflower puree,” the guy at the food truck says at lunch on Monday, and a bunch of groans go up.

  Kendall leans in. “Can I sub”—she scans the menu with squinted eyes—“black bean dip?”

  “Sure thing.”

  We take our food and go to a bench nearby.

  “So, how did you get on board with the ‘try new experiences’ thing?” I ask her.

  Kendall shrugs. “Growing up, I didn’t have a lot of new experiences. My parents were careful about outside influences.”

  “So how’d you have Rory? You must have been young.”

  “Nineteen,” she confirms. “And we were married. For awhile.” She continues before I can press her. “I haven’t even come close to a man since my kid started sleepwalking.”

  “Can’t you put a lock on your door?”

  “I want to be there if Rory gets up.”

  I shoot her a look. “He’s asleep. How would he know?”

  “True.”

  I drop onto the bench next to her and pull up the notes on my phone. “I pulled a bunch of research on ASMR over the weekend. The basis for it.”

  She raises a brow. “You thought it was weird porn.”

  I wipe at the corner of my mouth with a finger. “I realized it’s serious for some people. I get the need to relieve anxiety. I mean, human beings aren’t wired to contend with the kinds of pressures we face now. Not physiologically, but not socially either.”

  Awareness dawns on her face, chased by triumph. “You listened to it.”

  I shrug. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  After Wes and I slept together Thursday and again at my office on Friday, the anxiety went away.

  Until Saturday night, when it came back stronger than ever.

  It’s not because I need to burn off energy or want the distraction of sex. Hello, I had amazing sex.

  The only thing I can figure is I’m worried about letting Wes down. And I have all these feelings I’m not sure what to do with. In the past week, our relationship has changed.

  We were friends before. Now we’re something else.

  Not more than. Just… different.

  Having sex with him is like getting secret access to everything he’s thinking but never says in daylight hours.

  But it’s not only physical. He cracks me up with his commentary about the kids at school. And I can’t help but admire his brain.

  Plus, his body. Holy hell, the man can do anything he puts his mind to.

  I know I have feelings for him. When I lie awake at night, they even scare me a little.

  I care about him as a person. His goals, his dreams, the way he sees me when it feels like no one else does.

  But neither of us is looking for something serious.

  Calling Wes over the weekend because I couldn
’t kick the buzzing in my stomach didn’t feel right—for me or for him.

  So…

  ASMR.

  It’s all soft things and quiet whispers, designed to calm and satisfy. It’s actually kind of good.

  “It’s like chicken soup for your ears,” I decide.

  Kendall laughs. “They want to have an event, which is another reason I’m glad you’re on this with me. My specialty is children’s birthdays.”

  “What’s their budget?”

  Kendall tells me. “It’s crazy, right? For a two-person shop.”

  “I have no problem spending that kind of cash.”

  We toss around ideas, and I’m feeling pretty good when we head back to the office.

  “I’ll write up these notes,” I offer, taking off toward the bathroom and waving at Kendall.

  I’m reapplying my red lipstick when my phone buzzes.

  Despite trying to keep my independence, I hadn’t been able to resist sending one tiny text to Wes after midnight saying I had no idea how to handle the ASMR people.

  He hadn’t responded, which I naturally read as “I’m too busy” or “That’s beyond the scope of what we’re doing here.”

  * * *

  Wes: Hey. Fell asleep without charging my phone last night.

  * * *

  Wes: You do this all the time. You’ll crush it.

  * * *

  My lips curve at the corners, but as I lift my head and stare at my reflection, I feel guilt kick in.

  You do this all the time.

  Because I told him I did.

  I push that aside and respond.

  * * *

  Rena: Thanks. How’s school?

  * * *

  Wes: This bathroom’s not as interesting as the one at your office.

  * * *

  Desire floods me, and I sink my teeth into my lip.

  The two times we were together were their own kind of fast and furious. We haven’t exactly had time for slow sex, or teasing.

  Something I might need to correct.

  * * *

  Rena: That’s because you haven’t fucked me in it.

  * * *

  Dots appear, then vanish.