Coming In Hot Box Set

by Gina Kincade

  She smiles and leans forward, but I push her back.

  “But—Okay, I’m going to tell you something. I’ve never had sex with a virgin.”

  She blinks. “Never?”

  “Never.” I suck in a breath. “So, yeah, we’ll take this slow. We’ll work our way slowly towards sex.”

  “Why?” she asks, her voice dripping with frustration.

  Why, the woman asks. And part of me is wondering why too.

  “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

  She frowns. “But I want to have the sex. Now.”

  Every bone in my body almost breaks from trying to hold myself back, from trying to think and be reasonable. But I do it. I shake my head. “I’m not just going to fuck you, sweetheart.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because—” God, why can’t I argue my point? Everything she counters is irresistible and makes me want to jump her. But that’s not what I want. I want her to be mine, not just her body, but her heart too, and that big brain of hers. Everything that is Asha, I want to be mine. So I decide to turn the tables. “Why do you want me to just fuck you?”

  She opens her plush lips, thinking. “I—Okay, you can’t ask me any questions after I say this, but I no longer want to be a virgin.”

  “Today?”

  “I said you can’t ask me questions.”

  “You can’t order me around, Dr. Bossy Pants.”

  She smiles but then looks down, sadness passing through her dark gaze. “I—I just don’t want to be a virgin any longer. I—I—I want to be normal.”

  Although I’m turned on and want to be inside her with a screaming-level of desire, something about what she just said makes me pause.

  “You are normal.”

  She rolls her eyes that are quickly filling with tears. “Sure.”

  I wrap my hands carefully around her cheeks, lifting her face to meet mine. “Asha, don’t you know it yet?”

  “Know what?”

  I shake my head. “I guess, I’m not a good judge about what’s normal or not, but, fuck, woman, I want you in the worst way. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  She gives me a teary smile. “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So you’ll…fuck me?”

  I have to close my eyes and shake my head, trying to get the image of Asha while saying those words out of my mind. But holy hell, what a turn on.

  After breathing slowly for a few moments, I can open my eyes again. “We’ll take our time, and we’ll—”

  She growls. “But that makes me feel even less normal. ‘We’ll take our time…’ Don’t men just fuck women who aren’t virgins? Why take our time?”

  I laugh at her mimicking me. Her voice went deep and kind of angry-sounding. And she’s so adorable.

  “Because I want to take my time with you. Get to know you—”

  “Would you do that with other women?”

  I grind my teeth, feeling defensive because although I’ve never been embarrassed of my past regarding sex—I’ve kind of been proud of myself for being a player—I’m ashamed with her.

  “Of course you wouldn’t.” Her hands flutter to the ceiling in emphasis of her statement. “You would fuck her. Just because I’m a virgin doesn’t mean—”

  “I’m not going to just fuck you, Asha.” I get out of bed. Again. Pacing the floor.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I won’t.”

  “Because I’m a virgin.”

  Now I’m mad, although I’m not sure why. Probably because she’s getting very close to having me admit my feelings for her. That I’m falling for her, and it sucks that she just wants me to fuck her. Something in my stomach feels hollow.

  She just wants me to fuck her. I get it now. That’s all she wants. From me.

  “No.” I growl, yanking my fingers through my hair again. God, it hurts a lot more than I thought it would to be wanted for my cock and what it can do.

  She comes to her knees on the bed, waving her hands around. “Then why not?”

  “Because it’s you,” I yell. I don’t mean to be so loud. But I am. She kind of winces at what I’ve said. And I want to fucking take it back because I’m finally understanding what’s going on. Of course she wouldn’t want me. Just my dick. She knows she’s too good for me. She already knows it.

  I turn away from her and rub my sternum, right where my heart is doing this stupid thing, feeling like it’s shriveling up. I’m searching my room, looking for ways out, realizing I might have to move again because this is fucking embarrassing. And probably karma too—me falling for a woman who only wants my cock, which even makes obnoxious Steve sad enough to be his normal size in my pajamas.

  Somehow my gaze tracks to Adam’s Red Sox’s hat. It’s what his family gave me after his death. We became friends in Basic and were in the same unit and kind of inseparable until his death. I’ve never met another man I felt so close to. Other than my sister, I’ve never felt like I could be open and just be myself with anyone. But with Adam, he made me feel good while hanging out with him. He made me laugh. And I hope I made him laugh too.

  I felt that way about Asha. I felt like I was a better man just for knowing her.

  Fuck, I was stupid.

  Or is she stupid? Stupid about sex and love, if this is love. And maybe she doesn’t know a good thing if it bit her on the ass, which I can do. I should do.

  I turn around, thinking, finally getting smart about how I’m going to win Asha over. “Okay. Okay. Here’s the deal.” I try to stop grinding my teeth when I look at her. She’s so fucking gorgeous. In my bed. In my t-shirt. Her hair messy and her cheeks ablaze from desire and our argument. But I will win her. I will make her mine. “I’ll fuck you. Only if you give me what I want.”

  She blinks. “What’s that?”

  “Time. Time with me, getting to know me, and I get to know you.”

  “You’ll…fuck me now and then we’ll hang out?”

  “No way, honey. I’m not that dumb. I know you can break your end of the deal.” I cross my arms. “You have to give me time, plenty of time, first. Then I’ll fuck you.”

  She settles her butt down, sitting on her shins. “Can I negotiate this deal?”

  I shrug. “You can try.”

  She licks her lips, driving me crazy. “Okay. How about this? What if we spend a chunk of time together, getting to know each other, then we can—I don’t know—parse out the sex stuff?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like, we could have a dinner date, and I can kiss your chest. Naked. Or we could have a long drive and that could get you to second base. Stuff like that.”

  I cock a brow. “I like it. Yeah. That could work.”

  She smiles. “Okay. Then, it’s a deal, Mr. Ryder.” She extends her hand to me.

  I close the gap between us to shake her hand, knowing that I won’t be honorable with my end of the bargain. I’m going to make her hang out with me, grow to like me, and then fall for me. Fall so hard that when it’s time to have sex, she’ll ask me to make love to her.

  Fuck, yeah, I’m going to hustle this girl and make her fall in love with me.

  Asha

  There is no way I can let this deal stand, I think as I’m shaking Ryder’s hand, smiling at him. If I spend more time getting to know the sweet considerate man he is, then I’ll fall. I’ll fall hard. And be broken by the time I lose my virginity because I seriously doubt he’s the kind of man who falls for a girl like me. Or falls ever.

  In fact, I don’t understand his need for time with me, for getting to know me. Already my mind is whirling with romantic notions, like he might be more than merely attracted to me. Which is silly and makes me angry that I even think it. My stupid cherry-hued vision is going to give me a broken heart if I’m not careful. Because this is real life, where men like Ryder don’t fall.

  I have to stay on top of this deal or else I’ll wind up becoming a lovesick puppy over him. So, it’s time to up the an
te.

  He’s finally breaking into a smile, glancing at me, his brown eyes warm and there’s a slight edge of cocky in his expression, as if he’s pretty sure he knows how to strong-arm me. Ha! We’ll see about that Mr. Know-It-All.

  “So.” I sigh breathily. “What will I have to do to get you to take a shower with me?”

  He swallows, removing his hand to make fists at his sides, his grin gone. “No showers.”

  “Why not? I’ll do whatever you want me to do to earn it.”

  He groans and closes his eyes. I love that noise. It’s so male. So turned on.

  He really doesn’t have to do all this to get me into bed. I don’t understand why he wants this. Then it hits me: maybe he wants time to get to know me to make me feel more comfortable. Maybe he thinks I need it.

  And maybe…god, I hate to admit this…I do.

  Yes, I’m filled with desire for him, but once I got it in my head to force him on me and see if he would lose his mind and tear off our clothes and then push himself inside me, I went numb. Terror started to claw through my chest, making breathing hard, making my passion for him dwindle. But I was hell bent to lose my virginity, to be a normal girl. And the numbness helped with that drive.

  Only, I don’t want my first time to be numb and in a state of shock. I want to be happy and free and feel everything. I want my first time to feel like I do when I kiss him and things naturally progress, where everything feels good.

  Maybe he hasn’t been with a virgin before, but I think he might know how to make it so I can relax and have fun. And have a normal first experience with sex, not a scared one.

  I just need to safeguard myself from falling because, lord knows, he won’t.

  He’s shaking his head, taking a step away. “Clever girl, but no showers.”

  I scoot on my knees to the edge of the bed. “But we don’t have to touch each other. Just take a shower together.” The look that passes through his gaze lets me know he’s softening to the idea. So I’ll build my case. Besides, I would love to just take a shower with him, watch him clean himself with water making his gorgeous body shine. “I could make you breakfast first. I make blueberry pancakes—okay, they’re frozen. But I know how to microwave them in a way that will make you—”

  “I want to meet your sister.”

  I blink, not sure what he said.

  “You make the blueberry pancakes for me and then set up a time for me to meet your sister with you. We can have lunch together. Today.”

  “You want to meet my sister? Today? Lunch?”

  He nods. “Yep. For that, I’ll take a shower with you. No touching.”

  I sharply inhale. “I don’t think you understand. My sister—she’s—”

  “She’s what?”

  “Distant. Sometimes, well, often cold.”

  “I don’t care. I want to meet her.”

  “What will I tell her…about you…and why…”

  “You can tell her we’re dating, and I wanted to meet your family.”

  “I’m not going to lie to my sister.”

  “What’s the lie?”

  I swallow. “You think we’re dating?” No, that can’t be right.

  He shrugs. “I don’t care what you call it, but we’re doing something together. May as well call it dating. I mean, what were you going to call it at work? You know them and the way they gossip. I’m sure because we were caught kissing and holding hands we’re already the center of their talk.”

  He’s right. We probably are already the trending topic of the day. I don’t mind all that much. I might, though, when Ryder has had his fill of me.

  I close my eyes, inventing a mantra that I hope will ward off any tugs of emotions: It’s not really dating. It’s not really dating. It’s not really dating. Because I think dating is getting to know each other better, going out places, getting emotionally attached. And, yes, Ryder wants two out of three of those things, but I’m sure he won’t get emotionally attached. To me.

  So I’m going to keep saying this internal chant to remind myself this is not what it seems. Do I want to date Ryder? I mean, would my sister approve? I can imagine her sneer at meeting him, so, yeah, I doubt that. Would my parents? And I can imagine my parents wondering about his tattoos and scars, probably asking if he has PTSD from the military, asking too many personal questions. So, doubt that too. However, I think my brother would like Ryder. I can imagine them as friends. Good friends. Hon would like Ryder and they’d goad each other into making horrible jokes that would make the both of them laugh hysterically.

  I swallow and try once more to explain things to Ryder. “But my sister—okay, she can be a bit judgmental. She’s a lawyer, my brother too, but she’s really a lawyer. She’s kind of brutal sometimes. She doesn’t mince words. I’m making her sound like an ice demon when she is actually very generous. She works for next to nothing on cases that are really hard, advocating gay and transgendered parents’ rights. And she does other things that are incredibly kind. But she’s also—”

  He holds up his hands. “I get it. She’s a hard ass.” He steps closer to me, a finger under my chin, tilting me to look up at him. “But what you don’t get, baby, is so am I. It sounds like your sister and I will be good friends by the end of lunch.”

  Why does he want to become friends with my sister? I do not understand this man at all.

  “Do we have a deal?” He arches a dark brow. “You make me pancakes, set up a lunch date with your sister, which you cannot back out of, then we’ll take a shower together.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “You drive a mean bargain, Ryder.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  I sigh. “Fine. Deal.”

  Ryder

  I’ll have to take Asha on her word about how good her pancakes are—the pancakes that she had to run to the convenience store for. They might have been heaven in my mouth, but I couldn’t taste them. I couldn’t think of anything except how she’d gotten me to agree to shower with her.

  After we ate and put the dishes in the dishwasher, she calls her sister, smiling at me nervously. She sets up a lunch date, which Lona agrees to instantly. I think that surprises Asha. She looks a little stunned when she hangs up her cell, looking at her phone as if she’s wondering if it might have dialed someone other than her sister.

  She swallows and gazes at me. “She said, if you wouldn’t mind, that she’d like me to meet her girlfriend, Bit.”

  “Bit?”

  “It’s short for Elizabeth.”

  I nod. “Like Bitsy? But just Bit. That’s cute. Is she on the short side too?”

  She shrugs. “From what I gather.”

  “Are you surprised your sister wants you to meet her girlfriend?”

  “Honestly? A little, yeah.”

  “Are you excited to meet her girlfriend?”

  She smiles at me widely. “Yeah. I’ve been dying to. I just didn’t know how to ask.”

  “Good.” When she smiles at me like that, I feel like I’ve conquered something—something huge too, like armies, or countries. I feel stronger than I know I am. And I feel proud. “I’m glad we’re having this lunch then.”

  She nods and looks down at her cell. “Me too.”

  We’re silent because I don’t want to be the one to remind her that we’re supposed to take a shower now. Even if I’m dying to remind her. Instead, I grab a couple cups of coffee and move us to the couch. She shuffles after me. We drink in silence, and you know what’s weird? It’s not uncomfortable. It’s nice.

  Yeah, she’s going to be mine. Soon enough. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure of that.

  After several quiet moments, she says as she turns and lays her legs on my lap, “I’ve always idolized my sister. Is your sister younger or older?”

  “Younger. By almost two years.” Without thinking, I place my coffee on a side table and massage the balls of her tiny feet, which makes her close her eyes and smile, relaxing even more on my couch, when I say,
“How much older is your sister?”

  “Five and-a-half years. My brother and I thought she was the coolest person in the world. When we were little, we’d try to invent ways to force her to play with us.”

  I smile, thinking of little Asha with her twin, conspiring.

  “My sister sounded excited I called.”

  “Good. I’m glad.”

  She suddenly sits up, removing her legs and feet from me, but she’s leaning closer, smiling. “Ryder?”

  “Yeah? Why do I get the feeling that you’re conspiring like when you were little with your brother?”

  She smiles even brighter. “Because you have great intuition.”

  “Do I?”

  “You do.” She leans closer, placing her cup on the coffee table. “Can I kiss you? Just kiss you because I’m really grateful about today, about lunch?”

  Well, how can I turn that down? Even a heartless man couldn’t, especially because her eyes are sparkling and her cheeks are pink and she’s still got that grin of hers that melts my heart.

  I nod, and she giggles as she rushes forward and plants a kiss right on my lips. It’s quick and sweet and over before I can react. But when she leans away, she gazes at me. Her smile wavering. Slowly she comes back, her lips brushing against mine, and there’s no way I can fight this.

  I love kissing her. Our lips meet again and again. We smile in between. She adjusts and gets even closer, and then she’s giving me a real kiss. Soft. Everything about it is so soft, from her lips to the way she presses them against me. This is her kiss to me. And, fuck, if my heart doesn’t start aching and yet feels really good at the same time. I don’t know what it is about Asha, but everything in me likes her. I like this kiss and realize I’ve never been kissed like this before. Not even as a teenager. Back then, all the kisses were hard and fast and were meant to lead to something more. But this is lingering. I don’t think she wants more, other than this kiss.

  I hold her by the slip of her waist, and she gently touches her tongue to the seam of my mouth. I open for her, and she’s in. She’s slow, measured. This is Asha. It’s like she’s experimenting and finding out what I like, which is everything, and more importantly what she likes. I mimic everything she does because I don’t want to ruin this kiss. Even when I’m touching her, I don’t try to push for more, like the way she’s just holding my shoulders. When our tongues touch, she moans. Softly. Like the kiss.