Licked (L.A. Liaisons Book 1)

by Brooke Blaine

  I was wrong when I’d said Cameron was perfect. No, this…lying on top of Hunter and listening to his heartbeat…this was perfection.

  WHEN I WOKE up the next morning, it felt as though I’d emerged from the hottest dream of my life. I snuggled into my pillow, calling to mind the handsome face of the man who’d kept me more than satisfied all night. Stretching my legs out, I rubbed one against the long, hairy leg under mine.

  Wait. Leg?

  My eyes flipped open, and a pair of warm brown ones stared at me from the pillow next to mine.

  “Mornin’, sunshine,” he said.

  Not. A. Dream.

  “Hi,” I said shyly, pulling the covers up to my chin to cover, well, everything.

  He chuckled. “No need to do that.”

  “I thought I dreamed you.”

  “You didn’t, so let’s maybe get rid of this,” he said, inching the sheet back down my back.

  I let him leave it wherever he wanted. After all, look at the view he’s giving me, I thought, as my eyes trailed down to where the covers lay just under his pelvis. Damn.

  “Sleep well?’ he asked.

  “I don’t recall sleeping much. I think a certain someone kept me awake most of the night.”

  He smiled, brushing the hair off my back before running his fingers softly across my skin. Wow, he is gorgeous to wake up to. I hoped there wasn’t makeup smeared all over my face, but I was pretty sure it had come off at some point during one of our sweaty romps.

  “You’re fucking stunning first thing in the morning.”

  “Oh no.” I hid my face in the pillow and shook my head.

  “What’s oh no? I’m not allowed to say that?”

  “No, you’re not allowed to lie,” I said, but I couldn’t keep the cheesetastic grin off my face.

  “I’d never lie to you.” He took my hand and kissed my fingertips, and my heart skipped. Sexy and a romantic? It was almost too much to ask for.

  “I didn’t want to wake you, but I need to get going soon. Take a shower, grab my work clothes. Don’t wanna be late and piss off the boss woman.”

  “I think she’d be lenient on you.”

  “Not if I miss her deadline by staying in her bed all day. Though it might be worth it.”

  “Might?” I said, feigning shock. “Might be worth it? You better retract that statement, Mr. Morgan.”

  He pulled me on top of him, his body warm and his erection stirring.

  “Mmm, you’re just starting trouble now, mister. I thought you had to leave.”

  “I do.”

  “Okay. See you later, then.”

  “See you.”

  He didn’t budge, just grinned up at me with a look that would’ve singed my panties had I been wearing any.

  “I suppose I could make you coffee before I send you on your way,” I said.

  “If we have to get out of bed, then I guess I’ll settle for that.”

  I gave him a quick peck on the lips. “The good creamer is downstairs, so you might want to put some pants on.”

  “I’m pretty sure the good creamer is in this bed,” Hunter said, rolling on top of me and attacking my neck until I dissolved into a fit of giggles.

  “Get off me, you barbarian.”

  “Say the magic words,” he said, holding my wrists above my head.

  “Please?”

  “No.”

  “Please get off me, Master Hunter?”

  He considered that. “That’s not bad.”

  “Please get off me, you sex fiend, and I promise to get you off later.”

  Hunter let go of my wrists. “I love how well you get me.”

  Laughing, I pushed him toward the edge of the bed until his feet hit the floor. Wrapping the blanket around me, I shuffled across the room and grabbed his pants from the floor before tossing them on the bed. Then I took a shift dress off the hanger and slid into a pair of flats. Yes, I own flats. I just rarely wear them. Short people need all the help they can get.

  The kitchen lights were already on when we got downstairs. I glanced at the clock. Zoe must’ve just gotten in. And then speak of the damn devil. My right-hand woman stepped out of the walk-in freezer, and the expression on her face was priceless. She was slack-jawed and, for once, at a loss for words. But she wasn’t looking at me. She was looking at the beddable specimen behind me.

  Buuuusted. Oops.

  “Morning, Zoe,” I said, tucking my hair behind my ear. “We were just grabbing some coffee.”

  I reached for the full pot that I kept on a timer and took out two to-go cups. “Hunter, can you grab the creamer out of the refrigerator for me?”

  “Sure thing.”

  As Hunter turned his back to us and opened the fridge to pull out the homemade mixture I kept in there, Zoe mouthed, You whore. I nodded proudly, and mouthed back, I know.

  She made herself scarce as I poured two cups and handed one to Hunter. He boxed me in against the counter and kissed the side of my mouth. “Thank you,” he said.

  “Welcome. You sure you can’t stay a little longer?”

  “The guys might get suspicious if I work in a dress shirt.”

  “Good point.” I wrapped my arms around him and his lips met mine again. “I’ve got to run errands today too, but I’ll see you when I get back.”

  “Naked?”

  Pushing him away with a laugh, I said, “All right, it’s clear you’ve become addicted, so you need to get out.”

  “But I can come back later?”

  “Oh sweet Jesus.” I shoved him toward the front.

  “Bye, Zoe,” he called out over his shoulder.

  “Bye, Hunter.” She peered around the storage freezer and shook her head. “You have been a bad, bad girl, Ryleigh Phillips. But that is a hot piece of man meat even I could get behind.”

  LATER THAT MORNING, I rapped on the clear divider that separated Shayne’s office from the rest of the open floor plan at HLS. She looked up from where it appeared she was playing a matching game with client photographs spread across her desk and smiled.

  “Hey, what are you doing here?”

  “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by,” I said, tossing my purse into one of the seats in front of her desk.

  Shayne’s eyes were suspicious. “You’re never just downtown during lunch hour.”

  I reached into my purse and held up a to-go bag. “I brought meat pies.”

  She gasped and reached over her desk to grab the bag. “You’re a goddess and you can stop by any time. Did you remember the—”

  “Extra tomato sauce? Yes, I did.”

  “And lamingtons! I love you, I love you, I love you,” she said, whether to me or the decadent dessert in her hand, I wasn’t sure.

  Her phone rang then, and she shot daggers toward the front of the office. “Never hire someone who’s incompetent about holding your calls during a meeting,” she grumbled, setting the cake back in the bag before answering the phone in a sweet, peppy voice that betrayed what she was really thinking. After a few minutes of reassuring a client that she could indeed find someone who enjoyed gazing at and studying the planets as much as he did, she hung up and jotted something into a notebook, before looking up. “Oh bugger. Did he say astronomy or astrology?”

  “Planets would be astronomy.”

  “That’s it. Can you tell it’s been a long morning?” She sighed and wrote the word “astronomy” into the book. “So you never said what’s up.”

  “I just came by to ask if you could please tell your boss to stop booking dates for my boyfriend.”

  “Val? Of course, but—” Shayne jerked her head up as my words sank in. “Did you just say boyfriend?”

  I couldn’t hold back the massive grin that wanted to bust out any longer. “Yup.”

  “Fuck me dead. Are you serious? Wait,” she said, eyeing me warily. “Which one?”

  “Guess.”

  Her lips pursed as she studied me, and then she shook her head. “No way. No bloo
dy way did you get the courage to choose Hunter.”

  “Oh yes I did. And he spent the night. All night.”

  “I’m so fucking proud of you!” She squealed and jumped up from her desk to squeeze me. “I was wondering when you’d come around to that conclusion.”

  “Come around? Why didn’t you say something?”

  She pulled back to look at me. “You didn’t ask my opinion.”

  “Like that’s stopped you from interfering before.”

  Shayne’s hands went to her hips, and I realized then that she didn’t seem as tall as usual today because she was barefoot. She was the complete opposite to me when it came to love of shoes. “You all sat me down two years ago and told me if I tried to matchmaker you up you’d deport me,” she said.

  “Aw, and our little hooker listened.”

  “Did you know it’s because of you that Val only refers to me by that name now, even in public? She thinks it’s a good tie-in with the company name.”

  “Hey, it’s catchy.”

  “‘Hooker, my meeting with the A-list celebrities has run a bit long, can you fetch my dry cleaning?’” she mimicked. “Or ‘Could you be a good little hooker and stand outside the building with a sign advertising Hook, Line & Sinker, a fishing pole, and wearing a sexy mini? I think it’d really attract a new crowd to our services.’”

  I bristled. “Sounds like you’ve got bigger problems to worry about than a nickname if she has you doing all that.”

  “That’s not even the worst of it. Remind me to tell you about the hotel shit show over drinks later.”

  “You do know you’re not her assistant, right? Does she remember that?”

  Shayne waved her hand. “Enough about that. Let’s talk about your news, please, because I’m dying for details.”

  As I filled her in on the events of the past few days, a Cheshire Cat grin spread across her face.

  “Holy fuck,” she said. “You’re gonna get married and have ten kids and move to Burbank.”

  “Ew. Wait, he already lives in Burbank.”

  “See? It’s happening.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I don’t have time to roll out a soccer team. I have to roll out a few dozen Licked chains first.”

  “Pshh. You’ve got that in the bag.”

  “I do not, but thank you for your vote of confidence.”

  “With Hunter helping you with the After Dark, it seems like it’s a slam dunk. Good team professionally…good team in bed…”

  “All right, all right. I’m going.” I stood up and slung my purse over my arm, ready to bolt.

  “Hmm. I wonder if Cameron would let me set him up,” Shayne said, tapping her painted fingernail against her lips.

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “What? You said he was basically the ideal man and a sex god. And he’s self-sacrificing. That’s exactly what every woman in my client book is looking for.” She scrunched her nose. “Sorry. Too soon?”

  A flurry of activity could be heard from the front of the office, a woman’s voice rising above all the others, and Shayne mumbled, “Look who’s back from New York.”

  I didn’t have to guess who she meant before Val thundered down the hall, heels stomping across the tiled floor. She didn’t even spare a glance into Shayne’s office as she passed.

  “Oh, Val?” Shayne called out.

  The footsteps stalled and then the clack of her heels could be heard as she stood in the doorway, overdressed in a tight leopard number with a brown fur wrap, even though it was over ninety degrees outside. There was a smirk on her painted red lips. “Is there something you need, Hooker? A coffee? A bib? An anal plug?”

  To her credit, Shayne didn’t even flinch. “Could you take Hunter Morgan off our books, please? As of today he’s no longer listed as single.”

  “One night with a skanky brunette with money, and he’s off the market?” Val clucked her tongue in disgust. “I was hoping to use him a bit more before some rich bitch tied him down. C’est la vie. Find me another hot cock.”

  “Actually, he’s not with the girl you set him up with. He’s with Ryleigh,” Shayne said, gesturing to me.

  Damn, I wish she hadn’t done that.

  Val’s shrewd eyes looked me up and down. “Huh. Interesting choice if he likes the vintage sort.” Then she let her fur wrap slide down her arms, leaving it trailing behind her as she turned and made her way to her office. “He as good in the sack as he looks?” she called over her shoulder, shutting her office door without waiting for a response.

  Shayne gave me an apologetic smile. “Consider him off the record and all yours.”

  Be ready and hungry at five.

  I CLOSED THE note Hunter had left for me on my dresser this morning and stuck it in my clutch. It’d been three days since he’d walk-of-shamed out of the Licked kitchen, and we’d been making the most of our free moments, which, with all the deadlines looming, hadn’t been much. Tonight was going to be our first official date, and I couldn’t wait to see what the surprise was.

  The doorbell rang, and I fluffed my hair in the mirror, giving myself one last once-over. I’d chosen a black halter swing dress with a full skirt and red cherries all over it, and I’d left my hair down—yes, down—because Hunter seemed to like it that way best. After flipping off the lights, I bolted down the stairs and opened the outside door to see—

  “Oh my God,” I said, staring in awe at the man in front of me. “You’re like my wet fantasy.”

  Hunter flashed a sexy smile and tossed his jacket over his shoulder. He was wearing black dress slacks, a short-sleeve white button-up with a black tie, and his hair was gelled back, fifties style. But the best part—oh heaven help me, the best part—was the Buddy Holly glasses he wore.

  He cocked his head to the side, more of a James Dean move than a Buddy Holly one. “I thought for our first official date it should be something memorable.”

  “I think I need to change.”

  “No, you look great.”

  “I meant my panties.”

  Hunter laughed out loud. “I’ll take that compliment, thank you.”

  “No,” I said, taking his proffered arm, unable to stop looking at him. “Thank you.”

  “STILL NOT GONNA tell me where we’re going?” I asked, tapping my toes in excitement as we sat at a red light.

  “That would ruin the surprise. We’re almost there anyway.”

  “Hmm. So somewhere in Hollywood where we’re supposed to look out of this decade. Well, that could be anywhere around here.” As he turned onto Highland, we hit a wall of traffic. “Oh wait a second. I know where we’re going.”

  “Shoot.”

  “We’re either going to your house, or…” I glanced at the hordes of people walking along the sidewalks with picnic baskets in hand and jumped up and down in my seat. “Are we going to the Hollywood Bowl?”

  “It could be one of those two things,” he said, nodding.

  “It’s totally the Bowl. Hell yes! I haven’t been to a show here in forever. Who are we going to see? Or is it a theme night? Ooh, look, people are dressed up.”

  Hunter chuckled at my enthusiasm. “I’m glad you’re excited.”

  “I’d be more excited if I knew what we were going to see,” I singsonged.

  “Patience is a virtue.”

  After parking the car in one of the packed lots—sandwiching it in, really—he grabbed a couple bags filled with food and drinks from the backseat, and then we made our way toward the entrance.

  “Holy shit,” I said when I saw the marquee proclaiming “Rock & Roll Sounds from the 50’s & 60’s” as the evening’s theme. “This is so cool.”

  A group of men in T-Birds jackets and women in Pink Ladies attire were posing for a picture in front of the sign, and when they were finished, Hunter asked if they’d take one of us. He handed his phone over then wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me close as we smiled for the photo. Our photographer counted down from three, and when she said “one,” Hu
nter grabbed me under my knees and lifted me into his arms. I laughed and yelped in surprise before reaching down to smooth my dress and make sure I wasn’t flashing anyone.

  “How was that one?” Hunter called out.

  “So adorable,” the woman said, handing his phone back.

  And it was. She’d taken it at the exact moment he picked me up, huge grins on our faces, and my leg kicked up like I’d meant to do it. Aww, our first photograph. Yes, I’m aware that’s sappy, but I just don’t care.

  As we walked up the incline, we passed event-goers picnicking everywhere—on blankets along every open spot of grass along the path and at picnic tables. So many of them sported doo-wop skirts and pedal pushers.

  Ah. These were so my people.

  “What do you think?” he asked, like he even needed to. This was so perfect for a first date that I couldn’t even articulate it properly. Instead, I said, “You did good, Mr. Morgan. Really damn good.”

  Hunter led us to the garden boxes with a prime view of the stage, which was a bit of a surprise for me considering I’d never sat below section S way up high with the wooden bench seats before, but hey, I wasn’t about to complain.

  Our center box fit four people, but the other occupants hadn’t arrived yet, so for a little while at least we had it all to ourselves. He set up the table and chairs before reaching into one of the bags he’d brought and pulling out a white tablecloth and a battery-powered candle.

  “Ooh la la, you’ve gone all out tonight, haven’t you?”

  “Well,” he said, looking up at me, “I really wanna get laid.”

  “No, you didn’t just say that,” I said as he laughed and went back to setting up. Making myself useful, I unpacked the bags, and—

  “You brought Porto’s! Shut up, shut up.” I opened the familiar yellow box and feasted my eyes on the empanadas and potato balls lying inside. “How’d you know these were my favorite? And you brought the guava cheese things… Okay, now I’m drooling. I’m sorry, I know that’s not sexy, but I’m so excited. How’d you know?”

  “Hey, you told me before that I know everything about you, and now you doubt my ability to bring you food you like?” He tsked. “I hope you don’t stroke out when you see the drinks.”