Decidedly Off Limits

by Stina Lindenblatt

  The angel on the opposite shoulder leafed through a beauty magazine, stopping only long enough to say that the devil made a very good point.

  The movie ended and we walked outside to the local pizza place for dinner. At least Jeff didn’t expect us to go straight home to have sex. We would have a chance to get to know each other first.

  As expected, the restaurant was busy, but the hostess seated us after a few minutes. We ordered a Mediterranean pizza and beer from the waitress who was eyeing him up. As far as she was concerned, I wasn’t here.

  While he was preoccupied with her flirting with him, I subtly turned on my phone and discovered Trent had texted. How’s the movie?

  I smirked, knowing what he was really asking, and returned my phone to my purse. “So beyond modeling, waitering, and working out, what else do you do?” I asked Jeff.

  “I love gaming with my friends.”

  “That’s great.” I waited for more, but there was either nothing more to him or he wasn’t going to tell me.

  The conversation kind of stalled after that. I asked him questions about his gaming, even though I couldn’t have cared less about the answers. Unfortunately, once I began asking questions, he couldn’t stop talking about it. He failed to notice what was no doubt my glazed-over expression.

  After dinner, we returned to my house. I handed Jeff back his helmet and he walked me to the front door. As soon as we were inside and the door shut behind him, he pushed me against the wall and kissed me hard.

  I pretended the kiss was all kinds of hot. I also pretended that I didn’t wish it was Trent kissing me instead of Jeff.

  Jeff pulled away long enough to kick off his shoes and ask me where my bedroom was. After returning my stilettos to the hall closet, I led him upstairs and had barely stepped into my room before he was all over me again.

  He walked me backwards to the bed, until my calf brushed up against it. And before I knew it, my jeans and thong had been practically torn from my body to join his jeans and underwear on the floor.

  Jeff rolled on the condom that he kept in his wallet. Before I could ask him what he liked, he was on the bed, leaning over me…then he was in me. I grunted more from surprise than discomfort. When it came to size, the god of penises hadn’t been his friend—not even close. Good news for me, I guess, given how long it had been since I’d last had sex and given that foreplay was not in his vocabulary.

  He pumped inside me a few times and groaned his release.

  He then pulled out of me, tossed the condom in my trash, and was dressed before I could even blink.

  “That was great,” he said, zipping up his jeans without sparing me a second glance. “We’ll have to do it again sometime.” And then he left me on the bed, naked, exposed, empty.

  A minute later, the revving of a motorcycle engine cut through the night. As stupid tears filled my vision, I pulled my blanket around me, shielding me from the world.

  Shielding me from more rejection.

  Shielding me from more crappy sex.

  12

  Kelsey

  Needing to get started on my fabulous pity party for one, I snatched my underwear from the floor and slipped on my fuzzy white bathrobe. Downstairs, I grabbed an open bottle of Riesling from the fridge, a wine glass, and a bowl of strawberry ice cream.

  Then my consolation food and I watched a romantic comedy. I know, weird choice given the situation, right? You’d think I’d prefer a horror movie in which the guys never made it out alive. But no, witnessing two people fall in love despite all odds gave me a smidgen of hope.

  Yes, I chose to ignore the part about how this was fiction. Of course the heroine would live happily ever after. It wouldn’t be a romance if there was no happily ever after.

  At least that was my opinion when I started the movie. By the third glass of wine, my opinion had completely twisted around. The only man I truly loved was the one I couldn’t have.

  The one man no other man would ever measure up to.

  That’s right—love sucked.

  My cell phone pinged from my purse on the floor. I ignored it and reluctantly peeled my eyes open. They felt like the moisture had been sucked out and they hurt—but not as much as my head.

  Daylight streamed through the bedroom window, torturing me with its cheerfulness. Easy for it to be so happy, its life didn’t suck.

  Barely resisting the urge to stick my tongue out at the sunlight, I pulled the covers over my head and let myself drift back to sleep. It wasn’t like I needed to get out of bed anytime soon. I could stay here the entire weekend for all I cared.

  My head wholeheartedly agreed.

  I don’t know how long I’d slept when I stirred awake again, to the covers being slowly pulled away from my head.

  “Hey, Kels.” Trent’s deep voice, which was soothing enough to calm even the crankiest of toddlers, eased my aching head slightly. “Are you okay?”

  I peered up at him, grunted, then ripped the bedding from his hand and yanked it back over my head. “I’m not here,” I grumbled. “And how did you get in?” I could’ve sworn I locked the door last night.

  “Liam gave me his key for emergencies. Are you sick?”

  I pushed the cover away from my face. “Define sick.”

  “I’ve been texting and calling you all morning to see how the date went.”

  Not exactly what I would define as an emergency. But if I were Erin, he would’ve done the same.

  I pushed myself up to sit. The bedding pooled around my waist, revealing my robe, which had come untied while I’d slept. The front gaped open, exposing my black bra and thong.

  Trent’s eyes widened for a brief moment before he looked away. Redness crept up his neck. He had seen tons of women in various stages of undress, so seeing me this way shouldn’t have embarrassed him—unless he saw me as nothing more than a little sister.

  He reached out, as if to close my robe, but his long strong fingers accidentally brushed against the top of my breast. Flames flared where he had touched, licking me with their dizzying heat.

  God, I wanted him so badly.

  “Sorry,” he said, dropping his hand. His voice was deep and rough, the kind of voice that would’ve had even nuns renouncing their religion.

  “It’s okay.” My voice was equally rough and I coughed to clear my throat.

  I pulled my robe together and shifted my legs over the side of the bed. He sat on the edge of it, and I subtly breathed in his warm spicy scent and the scent that was all man—all Trent.

  Now, if only someone could figure out how to capture it in a bottle, I’d be all over it.

  “So how was the date?” he asked.

  “It was awesome. Can’t wait for another one.”

  His eyebrow quirked up. A very admirable talent, I might add. I couldn’t do it. “Really? Better than the last guy you went out with?”

  “Well, considering my last date had a freaking chaperone who kept me from getting laid…” I leveled my gaze at Trent.

  Trent’s hands shot up in surrender. “Hey, I had nothing to do with that. He left, in case you’re forgetting. And it’s not like I drove him away with a pitchfork.”

  “You might as well have.”

  Trent grunted. God, why did his grunts have to be so goddam sexy?

  “So let me get this straight, you were actually hoping to fuck that Stephen guy?”

  I shrugged. “Kinda.”

  “Even if he wasn’t looking for repeat business?” If you were to pile up all the apples in the grocery store, you would’ve had a lot less than the disbelief in Trent’s tone.

  To him, I was sweet, innocent Kelsey.

  All right. Maybe I was innocent, given I could count on two fingers the number of guys I’d had sex with. And neither would have given the heroes in erotic romances a run for their money when it came to performance techniques.

  “Do you know the last time I fucked a guy?” I asked.

  He-Who-Got-Sex-Whenever-He-Wanted shook his head.
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  “Let’s just say it’s been a long time. A very long time.”

  “How long are we talking about here?”

  “Well, given that Owen lost interest in me months before I broke off our engagement, I’d say my body doesn’t remember what an orgasm feels like.” My lips jerked up into a smirk. “And after what happened last night, it still doesn’t remember.”

  Trent chuckled, looking almost relieved. “So no sex last night either, huh?”

  “Oh, no, there was sex involved. Well, I think you could classify it as sex.” I shrugged once more. Great—even my shoulders were getting in more action than my girlie parts had received last night.

  “What do you mean?”

  “If the Olympics had an event called sprint fucking, my date would’ve won the gold medal. He didn’t even stick around to make sure I came. He was out the door before I was even close to singing Hallelujah.”

  Trent cringed. “I’m sorry, Kelsey. The guy was an asshole.” Then he tilted his head to the side, like a curious puppy, amusement creasing the outer corners of his eyes. “But let’s go back to the part where you don’t remember what an orgasm feels like. Haven’t you at least gotten yourself off?”

  I fiddled with the edge of my robe. “It’s not something I’ve ever done.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.” Yeah, it might have been my hangover talking. Sure Trent and I used to talk about things when we were younger, Trent in his wise, “older brother” way. He had always been great to go to when I needed advice but didn’t necessarily want to ask Liam.

  But never in a million and one years would I have talked to him about sex. That would’ve been embarrassing…especially once my body started craving him.

  However, that didn’t stop the next words from leaping out of my mouth. “So you’re saying you’ve never treated a date the same way?”

  “Never. When I’m with a woman, I always make sure she has a good time. I never leave her sexually frustrated.” He kissed my temple, surprising me, and a tingling warmth spread through my body at his touch.

  Or maybe that was because of what he had said.

  If I had sex with him, I would never be left wanting.

  I would only be left wanting him more.

  He pulled away, his breath slightly ragged like mine. “Why don’t you shower and come downstairs. I’ll make you something to eat.” He unfolded himself from my bed and left the room.

  It took me a few minutes to collect myself after his tender kiss. Once I had, I stood in the shower, the hot spray raining over my body. I finally turned off the water when the temperature started to cool.

  A few minutes later I was dressed in yoga pants, an oversized sweatshirt, and no makeup. My hair was sloppily pulled back in a ponytail. I was the poster girl of someone who didn’t currently give a damn about her looks—and it felt good.

  As I walked downstairs, the smell of cooked eggs greeted me. Trent cooked me breakfast? Oddly enough, my stomach didn’t protest at the thought of food. If anything, it rubbed its hands in glee, waiting for the slight queasiness still plaguing it to ease.

  Trent was dumping a pile of some sort of brown mess onto a plate as I entered the kitchen. “I made you some scrambled eggs.”

  I took the plate from him. “They look…” I thumbed through the Rolodex in my head for an appropriate adjective—preferably one that spared his feelings.

  “Overcooked,” he filled in. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry ’bout that. I’m not a very good cook.”

  Something we had in common. “Me neither.” Although I didn’t remember my scrambled eggs ever being this brown. But it was the thought that counted, right?

  My stomach wasn’t so sure about that, but it let me eat the eggs without putting up a fight. “Thanks,” I said, finishing off the last bite. Then I gulped down the orange juice he’d placed in front of me, washing away the not-so-great texture of the eggs.

  “You’re welcome.” He eyed my body, and his gaze slightly glazed over. He blinked, grabbed my glass, and returned to the fridge. “Is that my old sweatshirt?”

  Was it? Now that I thought about it, I did remember him lending it to me when we were in college. I had gone to Erin’s apartment but had gotten caught in a downpour. Because I hadn’t paid attention to the weather forecast, I wasn’t dressed for it. My body-hugging T-shirt had been drenched and I was shivering. Trent gave me his sweatshirt, and I’d forgotten to give it back…and then it just became a permanent addition to my wardrobe.

  I started to remove it.

  “Don’t worry about it. It looks better on you anyway.”

  I let the soft, faded-red fabric drop back into place.

  The stack of fashion magazines on the table mocked me. I grabbed the top issue and spotted an article I hadn’t paid attention to before: Be Your Own Woman. I read it, and something inside me shifted. Angels sang in gleeful chorus as beams of sunlight streamed into the kitchen.

  Remember that article Erin had shown me about creating a fulfilling life before entering a relationship? Yes, that’s the one. I didn’t need to be told more than twice to realize I’d been going about this all wrong. As much as Holly and Erin would disagree, I was still a mess after my breakup with Owen.

  “I’m done with men,” I declared, forgetting that Trent was in the room.

  “You mean you’re gonna bat for the other team?” He didn’t laugh. Instead, his voice sounded…off.

  “Nope. I definitely prefer penises over…um, pussy.” My face heated up and I looked away before Trent noticed. Definitely the hangover talking. But it also felt oddly natural to talk to him this way. “I mean, I’m tired of dating guys who don’t care about me, who are only interested in me the wrong way.” I guess I was kind of guilty of that too. Hadn’t I wanted to have sex with the Viking and the waiter? Which just proved my decision was the right one.

  Even if the ache between my legs wasn’t on board with the program.

  “There isn’t much to my life right now. I work all day and come home to hang out with Mr. Kitty Whiskers and read a novel. I don’t have any interests. I’m boring.”

  Trent leaned back against the counter. “You’re not boring.”

  “Thanks, but you’re wrong. Other than my job, I have nothing I’m passionate about. I have nothing that defines me. How can I expect a guy to appreciate me when there isn’t much to appreciate?” I nodded, convinced I was doing the right thing. Until I sorted out who I was, there was no point being in a relationship. “I need a hobby. Something to get excited about.”

  Trent didn’t look entirely convinced, but at least with my new goal in life, I was making things easier for him. He wouldn’t have to play the role of concerned brother while Liam was away. “What kind of hobby?”

  Good question. “I have no idea. Maybe if I sign up for a bunch of different classes, I might find something that excites me.” I thought about it for a moment, then dug through the recycling bin.

  After a few minutes of searching, I found what I was looking for and held the flyer up for him to see.

  He frowned. “Cooking lessons?”

  “Yes, it’ll be perfect. I’m not a very good cook, so this would be a great start.” I searched for the website on my smartphone. “Here’s one. French bistro. It’s three hours of hands-on lessons that will teach me how to make a three-course meal. Then I could host a dinner party.”

  Trent removed the phone from my hand, studied the screen for a moment, then handed it back to me. “That doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

  “It’s the perfect idea.”

  The know-it-all voice in the back of my head grumbled that maybe I should start with something simpler.

  I ignored it.

  13

  Trent

  There comes a time in a man’s life when he realizes the old adage is true: If you can’t beat them, join them.

  I walked into the classroom to the rich scent of French cuisine, and spotted Kelsey sitting at a table
near the front, reading a piece of paper. The seat next to hers was vacant.

  I hadn’t planned to sign up for the class when she first showed it to me, but then I realized she had the right idea about taking it. My scrambled eggs proved I needed help.

  There was also the issue where I couldn’t keep away from her. She was like a drug. Only a lot healthier.

  I pulled out the seat next to hers and accidentally (not) bumped her arm with my hip. Like a junkie craving his next fix, I couldn’t get enough of her soft body and just wanted to touch her.

  Her head turned to me, then her eyes went wide and her jaw dropped open. For a heartbeat it looked like she had stopped breathing.

  “Hey, is this seat taken?” I asked.

  “What…what are you doing here?”

  Assuming that was a “no” to my question, I sat. “Same as you. I figured a cooking class might do me some good.”

  She nodded, no doubt remembering my disastrous eggs.

  “And I thought we could wow our friends and my sister by hosting a dinner party together,” I added. It was just an excuse to spend more time with her, but I would take whatever sweet, Kelsey-scented scraps that were scattered my way.

  “That might not be a bad idea. We could invite Holly.”

  I could only imagine what Holly would say if she knew I was here…once she stopped laughing. “I’m sure my friend Josh would also be interested.”

  “Josh?”

  “You probably know him better as Joshua Hoffer from the San Francisco Rock.” The city’s NHL hockey team.

  If I thought she had been surprised when I showed up unannounced in class, that was nothing compared to now. She stared at me as if I had just announced I was running for the Presidential office. In my underwear. “You…you know Joshua Hoffer?”

  “Erin never mentioned it, huh?”

  She shook her head slowly. “No, somehow she forgot to mention that.”

  I wasn’t too surprised. Erin had pointed out several times that she thought he was an ass after meeting him one time with me at a charity event. I guess she did have a point there. He could be one when it suited him, which was more often than not.