That Boy: The All American Boy Series

by Remy Blake

  I expect him to be hot on my heels as I walk away from him, to ask me questions, call me out, but what I don’t expect when I enter my office is to hear the click of the door closing.

  I turn around to ask him what he’s doing, but he’s already on me. His large hand cups my cheek as his mouth descends on mine with unwavering purpose.

  My head wants to argue. My head wants me to tell him to stop. But when his lips land on mine, the voices subside and my usually dormant desire flickers to life, just like it has every time I’ve been in his presence.

  He’s more gentle than I expected, one hand sliding around to my neck, the other on my hip, pulling me closer to him. Our bodies are flush against one another, and I can’t help but melt into him, my reservations all gone. I slide my hands up his chest, loving the way his hard muscles feel underneath my palms, and he deepens the kiss, his mouth moving against mine softly but urgently. Like he doesn’t want to scare me, but he wants me to know he isn’t anywhere else but in this moment, with me.

  His tongue swipes at the seam of my mouth, and I’m surprised by the small moan it elicits. He tastes like coffee and mint, and kisses with a seduction that I feel all the way to my toes.

  My body thrums when I feel him press his hard length against me, and my imagination runs wild with all the things we could do behind these closed doors.

  My tongue meets his, and I don’t even try for dominance. I bask in the taste. In the feel. In the newness.

  I revel in the moment, knowing the second we pull apart, everything I’m feeling will be fleeting and reality will settle in. Because this shouldn’t be happening. And it definitely can’t happen again.

  As if he can feel the doubt slipping between us, Cord slows down, the kisses now slow and unhurried pecks.

  Eventually, he steps back, and my gaze meets his.

  “Cord,” I say, my voice shaky, my hands touching my mouth in disbelief. “We can’t–”

  Wordlessly, he shakes his head, cutting me off.

  “We have to talk,” I insist.

  Again, he shakes his head at me, only this time, he reaches for the door, making his intention not to talk very clear. He’s past the threshold when he looks over his shoulder and winks at me. “I’ll see you later.”

  CORD

  I don’t give her time to argue with me, or to kick me out of the store. Instead, I walk right off, her mouth agape at my audacity.

  Once I hit the sidewalk, a grin slowly steals across my face. Damn. That was some kiss.

  It confirmed everything I’d suspected: our chemistry is off the charts and she fits perfectly in my arms.

  I don’t care if she’s older than me. Age is an arbitrary factor that’s a matter of personal preference. When it comes to Penelope, it’s the last thing on my mind. And now that we’ve kissed, I’m not going to let her use this meaningless difference as a means to keep us apart. Because age is a simple number and nothing more.

  Barring a natural disaster that wipes us all from this planet, I plan to make her mine, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

  Judging from the way Penelope kissed me back, curling her body around me, her tongue boldly stroking mine, she feels the same. She just needs to get past the point of worrying about what other people think. I can help her with that. I’ve been honing that skill for most of my life.

  Crossing the street, I progress along the front walkway and step inside the police station. My stomach is a little uneasy. I’m wondering what I’m walking into. Exactly what kind of arrangement did Uncle Ted make? There’s only one way to find out, so I step up to the window to check in.

  “Can I help you?” the officer asks.

  “I’m here to see Lieutenant Gardner.”

  “Have a seat, and he’ll be with you shortly.”

  Nodding, I turn and walk toward the row of empty chairs along the side wall. Breathe. Everything will be okay. What can these guys make me do that’s so bad?

  Eyes watering and nostrils burning from the overwhelming scent of bleach, I swirl and scrub the brush around the inside of the toilet bowl. Once I’m done, I flush the bleach and move on to the next one. Altogether, there are four stalls in the men’s room and two urinals I’ve already cleaned. I thought I might throw up when I had to spray and wipe down the urine splatters on the floor and wall. Even with gloves on, it was fucking disgusting. But the worst chore of all was cleaning the outside of the toilets. That involved squatting down and getting up close and personal with a toilet that’s had its fair share of hairy asses sitting down on the seat. And cleaning up the smeared fecal matter had me dry heaving a couple times. If I had any food in my stomach, I probably would’ve lost it. As it stands, I’m still feeling semi nauseous.

  Note to self: don’t eat breakfast or lunch while working here.

  When I’m finally finished, I put all the cleaning supplies back in the appropriate closet and find Lieutenant Gardner in his office.

  “Sir, I’m all done with the men’s room.”

  He smiles. “You can call me Paul when you’re here.”

  “Thank you, sir, but it feels too informal. How about Lieutenant?”

  “That works too. How was your first day?” he asks.

  “Great.” I force myself to smile.

  He nods. “Good. Tomorrow you can do the women’s bathroom.”

  Fuck my life. “Yes, sir. If you’re all done with me, I’m going to get going.”

  “It’s five o’clock. You could’ve left an hour ago.”

  Now he tells me.

  “Have a good night, sir. I mean, Lieutenant.”

  “See you tomorrow, Renner.”

  Once I’m outside, I drag a few long, slow, deep breaths in through my nose, expelling slowly to clear my sinuses and lungs of the bleach fumes. I think the fresh air only makes the chemical smell more noticeable.

  Pausing on the sidewalk, I realize I don’t have a way home. I can call an Uber or I can walk. While both options have merit, I’ve been stuck inside the police station all day and could use the fresh air.

  Setting off for the start of my four-mile trek, I glance across the street to Runway. Her car is parked right out front. For a moment, I’m tempted to reroute my plans for a chance to see her for a few minutes. However, it’ll take me at least an hour or more to get back to my uncle’s house as it is.

  About a mile into my walk, a BMW beeps and pulls over in front of me. I grin when I realize it’s Penelope. Walking up on the passenger side, I peer inside the open window. “Hey there.”

  “Hey. What are you doing walking out here?” she asks.

  “I’m on my way home.”

  “You don’t have a ride?” She seems surprised.

  “I don’t have a car right now, and my uncle didn’t offer to bring me home.”

  She smiles. “Hop in. I’ll give you a lift.”

  Hell yeah. This definitely makes up for cleaning toilets.

  I slip inside her car and fasten my seatbelt. “Thanks. I appreciate this. I’m so hungry, I’m weak.”

  “Didn’t you eat anything?”

  “Nope. Just the coffee this morning. I didn’t want to make a bad impression on my first day,” I explain.

  “So you skipped lunch?” she asks incredulously.

  “Yeah, it sounds kind of ridiculous, but at the time, it seemed like the best choice.”

  “Every employee is entitled to a lunch break. Don’t skip it again.”

  “Believe me, I won’t. Between the bleach I was cleaning with and lack of food, I was light headed.”

  She snickers.

  “What?” I ask.

  “I thought I smelled bleach.”

  I groan. “I think the scent is burned into my nasal passages forever.”

  “You just need to replace it with another strong scent.”

  “I don’t have any weed with me,” I joke.

  “I think I can do even better than weed,” she replies confidently.

  “That’s a tall order. My ex
pectations just shot sky-high.” She signals to turn down a street I’m unfamiliar with. “Where are you taking me?” I ask.

  “Only to the best pizza place within fifty miles.”

  My stomach growls loud enough for her to hear, and we laugh. “You won’t hear any arguments from me or my stomach.”

  Five minutes later, we’re ensconced in a booth in the back of the Italian restaurant, sharing a pitcher of beer. Swallowing the cold liquid, I sigh with pleasure and set my glass down. “This place smells fantastic, and you were right, I can’t smell the bleach anymore. You’re a genius.” Reaching across the table, I take hold of her hand. Her eyes sweep down to our joined hands as if she’s checking to make sure we’re really connected. When they creep back up to meet mine it’s all I can do not to drag her across the table between us and kiss her—kiss her until every reservation she has about us dissipates. My hand tightens on hers as I prepare to make the kiss an actuality.

  “Here you go.” The waitress appears holding the large pizza pan. Setting it on the table along with extra napkins, she hurries off.

  Goddammit. I can’t help but be disappointed at the missed opportunity. Any chance I have to connect our lips, I should be taking advantage of. But at the same time, the steaming, mouthwatering pizza isn’t the worst trade-off.

  Releasing her hand, I pick up a plate, adding a slice of pepperoni before setting it down in front of her.

  “Thank you. I know how difficult it must be for you to remember your manners right now when you’re starving.” Her eyes tease as well as her words.

  Using the spatula, I set a slice on my plate. It barely makes contact with the white surface before my fingers raise it to my mouth. I’m already moaning before I even take a bite because the piping hot slice is giving off the most incredible aroma.

  Once my teeth sink into the cheesey mess, I close my eyes and, for the second time today, wish I could freeze time. The first one being Penelope’s and my kiss.

  “I’m jealous you’re having this for the first time,” Penelope says, and my eyes snap open. She giggles. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your private pizza moment.”

  I chuckle. “No apology necessary. Thank you for bringing me here. This is fucking phenomenal.”

  “Right? I grab food from here at least once a week.”

  We continue to devour the pizza. Okay, I devour most of the pizza while Penelope watches with mild amusement after she had her two slices.

  I finally slow down on the last slice. “You have single-handedly salvaged my summer.”

  “They deliver too,” she tells me.

  “I wasn’t speaking about the pizza, Penelope.” I take another bite and hum while I chew and swallow. “Okay, I wasn’t only talking about the pizza.” I wink.

  “What are you referring to then?” She pops up a dark eyebrow.

  “I meant you alone. I can list the ways if that’ll help you understand.

  Spending time with you.

  Kissing you.

  Looking at you.

  Talking with you.

  Listening to you.

  Making you smile.

  Do I need to continue?”

  She lowers her chin and rubs her lips together. It’s not meant to be flirtatious. It’s her natural reaction, and it makes me wonder if she’s not used to receiving compliments. “I don’t know what to say to all that,” she says, confirming my suspicions. “Thank you?” It leaves her bow shaped mouth as a question.

  “You don’t need to thank me for merely pointing out the ways you’ve improved my summer.”

  “Actually, I think I do. No one’s really said anything that sweet to me.”

  “What about your ex-husband?” I blurt out the question before I can stop myself. How could he not compliment her?

  “No.” She shakes her head. “Not in a long time, and we met in high school. I can barely remember a time we weren’t together.”

  “Until now,” I add.

  “Until we split six months ago,” she corrects.

  “Why did you guys divorce? Aside from the fact that he sounds like he didn’t appreciate what he had at home.” She gnaws on her bottom lip, lost in her thoughts. “Well?” I prod.

  Her eyes plead with me not to push for more. “I don’t want to tell you.”

  I force myself to ask, “Why not?”

  “It’s embarrassing for me.”

  Catching hold of her hand, I give a gentle squeeze of encouragement and aim my most earnest stare at her. “You can tell me, Penelope. I’m the last person who’s going to judge you for something in your past.”

  Drawing in a deep breath, she shifts on the vinyl seat, sitting a little taller. “My ex was addicted to pornography.” I’m so stunned I don’t reply and she continues, “He watched it every waking moment he could.”

  “Wow. What a dumbass,” I say.

  “He couldn’t help it,” she says defensively.

  I shake my head, annoyed she’s defending him. “That’s bullshit. He had you at home and he turned to his laptop instead? He’s not just a dumbass, he’s the king of dumbasses,” I announce.

  She smiles. “I’ve been told by a counselor it’s like any other addiction and needs to be treated as such. He got addicted as a young teenager.”

  “Yeah, he and every other teenage male watches porn. I watched my fair share too. But it’s not a replacement for the real deal. Did you guys…” I stop myself from asking.

  “Did we have sex?” she asks, and I nod. “We had a normal sex life, or at least what I perceived to be normal until a couple of years ago. It was like one day a switch flipped and he never wanted sex again. I thought he was having an affair. In fact, I was convinced he was, because what twenty-something guy doesn’t want to have sex at all?”

  “But it wasn’t an affair,” I reply, my thumb caressing the back of her hand.

  “Nope. It took me a while to figure out how much his addiction was taking over, but when he got busted at work for watching porn, that sure opened my eyes. He got demoted as a result and still, he refused to go to counseling with me. So I went by myself and worked through what I could. Eventually, I got tired of being the only one trying, so I hired an attorney and served him with divorce papers. It probably sounds cold-hearted to just be done with someone after all those years.”

  “No, it doesn’t. A relationship won’t last when only one person is invested in making it work.”

  She smiles. “How did you get so wise at such a young age?”

  “I keep telling you age means nothing. Maybe now you’ll see the merit in my words.”

  “I’m seeing a lot of things from a new perspective lately,” she admits.

  “Does that have anything to do with a certain handsome, intelligent, younger man who’s ready, willing, and able to show you how special you are?”

  “Maybe.”

  The waitress swings by to take the empty tray and plates and leave the bill.

  Releasing her hand, I grab some money from my pocket and close it inside the small leather folder.

  Penelope starts rummaging in her purse. “Let me give you some money.”

  “It’s all set. Come on.” I hold my hand out to her. She clasps hold, allowing me to pull her to her feet. She opens her mouth to speak, and I close my lips over hers, swallowing her argument along with her gasp of surprise. This kiss is hardly more than a brief taste, a quick reminder of our powerful chemistry. Drawing back with a smile on my lips, I watch her eyelids flutter open like she’s still affected. She smiles back at me before her gaze sweeps around the interior of the restaurant.

  “Stop worrying, Penelope. Everyone’s too busy eating to pay attention to us.”

  The ride to my uncle’s is spent in silence and over too soon. “Pull over here,” I direct, pointing to the side of the road just before the long driveway we need to turn into. “I wish I didn’t need to get back here right now.” Uncle Ted made it clear he wanted me home by eight o’clock so we could touch base on
how my day went. But I’m pretty sure he’s already spoken to his friend Paul to see how it went. And if he didn’t, it’s only a matter of time.

  “It’s probably for the best.” She ducks her chin and my finger is immediately there to raise it back up. “You’ll get used to the inevitability of us sooner or later.” I wag my finger between us. “This is happening.” Leaning forward, I feather my lips across hers, gently coaxing and proving the power behind my bold statement. Whatever has us in its grip is bigger than both of us. The only option is to give in to these emotions that spiral and grow like a vortex every time our lips connect. Burying my fingers in her hair, I stroke my tongue along the inside edge of her soft and pillowy bottom lip. I could occupy myself doing nothing more than this for hours at a time.

  Penelope clutches my shoulders, tugging me as close as we can get with the console between us. Her tongue dances with mine, making my head spin and heart take off like a rocket launching behind my ribs.

  We’re both breathless when we part. I caress her cheek tenderly, and for a few seconds, the world comes to a screeching halt. Nothing else matters. With our eyes locked and our breaths slowing and syncing, we could be the only two people in the world.

  Until my phone beeps, shattering our private bubble. Tugging it from my pocket, I see a text message from my uncle.

  Ted: Where are you?

  I grimace at the ill timed reminder and curse myself for putting myself in such a position that I have to answer to him.

  Then again, if I hadn’t fucked up, I’d never have met Penelope. Sometimes the best things can evolve from the worst circumstances.

  PENELOPE

  It’s been a whole week of nothing but foreplay. And when I say foreplay, I mean, we meet at the coffee shop in the morning, kiss in my office before he leaves, and spend the night driving to the next town over to eat dinner, make out, and talk before I drive him home for his eight p.m. curfew.