“Okay, then. Call it love.” I dropped my voice and leaned toward her. “That sounds damned sexy to me.”
She stared at me, frowning. I didn’t look away, either, and my chest tightened as I watched her run the tip of her tongue over those full red lips.
“I don’t think I can love.” She murmured the words, but I heard them anyway. “Look at me, Eli. I’m the daughter of a woman so mentally ill that she doesn’t know her own child. I’m probably the result of rape. I spent the last four years fucking at random, and I’m not one bit ashamed of that. Any man who could look at me and think, Now there’s a good bet for happily-ever-after should have his head examined.”
“Seeing potential doesn’t mean someone is crazy. It doesn’t mean ignoring the truth. It means seeing what can be possible.” I reached across and touched the back of her hand. “Don’t give up on that, Zel. No matter what you think, you’re made for loving. I see it in you all the time. Look at how much you care for Quinn and Gia. And Nate, too.” I made a face at her and leaned back again. “And even me. You let me be your friend, against your better judgement.”
She snorted. “Only because you wore me down. And it’s entirely possible that I’m just using you for your Shakespearean know-how.”
I laughed. “As if. Should I remind you of the themes I still don’t have memorized?”
Zelda grinned. “True. Well, maybe I’m using you for the excellent parking spaces I can get when I drive you around. That’s a perk you can’t deny.”
“Great.” I wagged my head and lifted my hand to signal our waiter. “And on that note . . . let’s get the check and go back. We’ve got more studying to do.”
“I . . . can’t . . . fit . . . one . . . more . . . fact . . . into . . . my . . . brain.” I let my head drop back against the pillows on Zelda’s bed, closing my eyes. “We can’t do any more, Zel. I’m going to explode or something.”
“Mmmmmm.” She was lying on her stomach at the foot of the bed, her legs kicking languidly. “I know. I’m so tired, Eli. I just want to cry. Or die. Whichever takes less energy.”
“Yeah. But I’m strangely hungry, too. If I had some of the lo mein and wontons we brought back, would you eat some, too?” I patted my flat stomach. “Shakespeare makes me ravenous.”
“Oh, definitely!” She rolled off the bed. “Stay there. I’ll heat it up and bring it in for us to share.”
“Heat it up?” I called after her. “Don’t bother. I can eat it cold.”
“Yuck!” I heard her reply and could almost picture her nose wrinkling in disgust. “Cold noodles are nasty.”
“But the wontons will get soggy if you heat them in the microwave.” I wasn’t going down without a fight.
“Trust me, dude. I know what I’m doing.”
I listened to the sound of her moving beyond my sight, the slight scuffle of her feet, the buzz of the microwave and its subsequent ding as the food finished heating. She was humming to herself, and that made me smile.
If there was one thing I’d learned about Zelda over the past months, it was that she was painfully self-aware, guarded and manic about maintaining self-control. Every move she made, every word she spoke, seemed to be carefully considered. She didn’t have any quirks or habits . . . except one. And that was the humming.
I’d picked up on it the first time she’d cooked for all of us. We’d been here in the suite, and Zelda had somehow managed to put together an entire dinner, using just her slow cooker and the microwave. Gia, Quinn and Nate had been involved in a deep conversation about Veronica Mars, but I’d been more tuned in to Zelda—and that was when I’d realized that she was humming softly as she moved around the tiny suite kitchen.
Since then, I’d heard her humming two or three other times, but I’d never said anything. I didn’t want her to stop doing it, and if I pointed it out, she’d be self-conscious about giving me another glimpse into the real Zelda Porter.
I’d learned with Zelda, treading carefully was key.
Now she returned to her bedroom, carrying one large plate. In the center, the lo mein was piled, surrounded by artfully arranged fried wonton.
“Voila.” She gave a half-bow, presenting the plate with a flourish. “Now scoot over so I can sit down.”
Bracing my arms against the mattress, I lifted my body up and over, making room for Zelda. She sat down next to me, resting the plate on my legs while she settled herself against the pillows.
“Do you want a fork or chop sticks?” She held up my choices. “I brought one of each.”
“What kind of a noob do you think I am? Chop sticks, please.” I held out my hand, palm up.
Zelda hesitated. “I only brought one set, so if you use these, I have to use the fork. Does that make me the noob now?”
“Nuh uh.” I shook my head. “We can share the chop sticks. I don’t mind.”
For a moment, I thought she might object, and then she nodded. “All right. I guess I can trust that you don’t have cooties.”
I winked at her. “I promise, I’m cootie-free, sweetheart.”
She was sitting close enough to me that I felt her stiffen a little at my casual use of the endearment. As I carefully scooped up some lo mein on the chop sticks, I considered assuring her that I didn’t mean anything by it. But maybe simply ignoring it was a better idea.
After I’d had a couple of bites, I passed Zelda the chop sticks and attacked the wonton. To my surprise, it was warm and it crunched between my teeth.
“How did you keep it from going soggy?” I side-eyed her. “What kind of magic is this?”
She laughed. “The kind that I’m not going to share. A girl has to keep some secrets, you know.”
I rolled my eyes. “Zel, you’re nothing but secrets. You don’t have to worry about losing the mystery.”
“Too bad.” Her concentration on the noodles was complete, the tip of her tongue sticking out between her lips as she wound the long strands around the chop sticks. “I’m not telling. If I did, you wouldn’t need me anymore.”
Her voice was light, and I was pretty sure she wasn’t paying much attention to what she was saying, but the poignancy of it struck me square in the heart. I swallowed over a lump in my throat.
“If I only needed you for heating up wontons, Zel, that would be a sad commentary on me.”
Her eyes darted up to mine as she lifted the bite to her mouth, and whatever she saw there made her falter. A single noodle slithered from the chopsticks and fell down the front of her shirt.
“Shit.” Dropping the chopsticks back onto the plate, she pulled the neck of her tee away from her skin, peering down through the opening. “I’m glad the noodles aren’t that hot, but still. Geez.” Releasing the neck, she lifted up the hem and found the noodle on her stomach, just below her bra. Meanwhile, I tried not to stare and not to drool at the fleeting glimpse of her boobs.
“You know,” I began conversationally. “If you need to take off your shirt, just go ahead. It won’t offend me or anything. Being as how we’re friends and all.” I picked up another wonton.
I expected her to roll her eyes or give me some shit about teasing her, but instead, she only glanced at me.
“It’s not like my boobs are anything you haven’t seen before.”
I sighed. “Yeah, but it’s been a long time. I miss them.”
At this, Zelda did roll her eyes. “Mine, or just boobs in general?”
I knew what the safe answer was. I knew what I should say to keep things light. But I ignored what was safe and went in the opposite direction.
“Yours.”
She went still, the chopsticks in her hand again. “You can’t remember them. You don’t remember that night.”
“I remember it more and more all the time.” My voice was gruff. “I almost wish I didn’t. It’s torture, thinking about what I did and what I didn’t do. I mean, knowing you now, I wish like hell I could go back and do it all differently.”
Zelda gave a little cough. “Bu
t you can’t. Neither of us can. And that’s all right.” This time as she lifted the noodles, she bent her neck over the plate, to avoid losing another one down her shirt. But lo mein noodles are slippery little cusses, and another one fell . . . onto me.
“Damn it, I’m a mess tonight.” She pinched the dropped noodle between her finger and thumb and raised it to her mouth, sucking it in between her lips. “You’re going to have a stain on that shirt.”
“It’s okay.” I tugged the shirt up to get a better look. “I think if I put some water on it, it should come out.”
“No, that’s grease.” Zelda replaced the chopsticks and rose to her knees. “Take it off, and let me put some baking soda on it, or it will set and never come out.”
“Wait a second here.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Is this just a cheap attempt to get my shirt off?”
She exhaled long. “You caught me, Eli. All of this was just an elaborate attempt to get you naked. Aren’t you the smart one.”
I smirked. “I knew it. But baby, all you had to do was ask.”
Zelda pinched her lips together, and I thought it might be to keep from smiling. “Hand it over, bud. The longer you mess around, the more the stain will set.”
“Okay, okay.” I gripped the bottom of the Henley and pulled it over my head. I didn’t miss the way Zelda’s eyes lingered on my bare chest as she took the shirt. I might have flexed just a little, showing off the only way I could.
Zelda disappeared into her bathroom, where I heard the water running. I leaned back again, folding my hands behind my head, waiting for her to return. Something had shifted between us. I wasn’t sure what it was, but my heart was pounding, and my body was on full alert.
I wanted Zelda. I’d known that for a while, but I’d managed to tamp that shit down, knowing any move I made would upset the delicate balance that was our friendship. The truth was that I wasn’t willing to risk what we had now for what could be a one-night stand. I didn’t have any desire to become another notch on Zelda’s bedpost, just another of her random fucks. I wanted more.
And how bizarre was that? When had I made the leap from keeping everything casual to wanting a real relationship? I wondered idly if something else in me had broken when my back had snapped.
“I think I got it out.” Zelda came back into the room, stopping at her closet to take out a hanger. “I’ll hang it to dry, and then we can see.”
“Thanks.” I watched her slide the hanger into the neck of my shirt and hook it over the doorknob before she returned to the bed, climbing back up next to me.
“I’m glad to see you left me some food. I thought you might scarf it all up while I was taking care of your stain.” She gave me a mock-glare and picked up the chopsticks.
“Hey, if you could manage to keep your noodles on your chopsticks, you’d be getting more to eat.” I tracked her movements as she leaned over me again, this time managing to get the entire bite of lo mein into her mouth.
“Aha! See, I did it.” She grinned at me.
“Once. That might’ve been a fluke.” I pointed to my own mouth. “Now feed some to me, and let’s see if you can get them all in here.”
“Feed your own damn self.” She held out the chopsticks, but I shook my head.
“You stained my shirt. The least you can do is give me a couple of bites. I’m tired. Too tired to move.” I put on the most pitiful expression I could manage.
“You’re such a baby.” But she sighed and went back to the plate, twirling a good-sized pile of lo mein around the two chopsticks. Moving slowly, she lifted them to my waiting mouth, but as I’d hoped, two fell onto my bare chest.
“See? I knew you couldn’t do it.” I quirked an eyebrow at her. “Now what?”
She was staring at me, and what I saw on her face made my own laughter die.
“Open your mouth,” she murmured. “Or I’ll drop more.”
“Promise?” I teased, but I opened my mouth and let her feed me the lo mein. Once I was chewing, Zelda carefully lay the chopsticks back on the plate and moved the whole thing to her side table.
“Now . . .” Before I knew what she was doing, she’d slung her leg over my thighs, straddling me. “We have to take care of those noodles. I wouldn’t want them to stain you.”
I swallowed. “Would you have to use baking soda on my skin?”
“No.” Zelda shook her head. “That only works on fabric. On skin, there’s only one way to solve the problem.”
Bending forward, she pressed her lips to my chest. I felt the tickle of her tongue as she drew one of the noodles between her lips and sucked it upward. Goosebumps covered my skin, and my dick, already interested, began to sit up and take serious notice.
“Oh, damn,” Zelda whispered, her breath warm against me. “The stain is still there. Well . . . I guess I need to take care of that.”
With that, she dragged the flat of her tongue over me, ending at the flat disc of my nipple, which she fastened between her teeth and suckled. Need shot straight to my cock, and I groaned.
“Shhhhh . . . it’s late.” Zelda shot me a wicked, reproving look. “You don’t want to wake the neighbors.”
She eased down and sucked the second noodle off my chest, making a small noise deep in her throat.
“Zel. What are you doing?” My voice sounded almost drugged. All I could feel was the brush of her lips and the sweep of her hair. I wanted her mouth all over me. I wanted to taste her. And more than my next breath, I wanted to bury myself deep within her.
“I don’t know. But it feels good.” She circled my other nipple with the tip of her tongue and then sat up. “Do you want me to stop?”
Her blue eyes bore into me, and I knew she was waiting for me to say yes or no. If I nodded now—if I told her yes, she should stop—she would. I knew this. And our friendship would continue as it was.
But if I said no, that I didn’t want her to stop, everything would change. Zelda didn’t do relationships, and so this would be sex, pure and simple.
Could sex ever be simple?
Telling her to stop wasn’t an option. I wanted her with a keen aching, and I wasn’t going to deny myself this pleasure. What happened after—I’d deal with that later.
“Don’t stop,” I whispered, and I was rewarded by the answering flare of desire in her eyes.
“You wanted to see me.” She crossed her arms over her torso and peeled off the T-shirt. “I hope I live up to your memory.”
“Holy fucking hell.” I drank her in, almost afraid to breathe. Her narrow waist flared to the spot where her jeans covered her hips. Her stomach was smooth and tanned skin and just above it, her tits spilled over a simple white bra.
“I didn’t know anyone else was going to be seeing my bra tonight, or I would’ve worn something nicer.” She smoothed her hands over the cups. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” I rasped. “But if it makes you feel better, feel free to take it off.”
Zelda’s lips curved into a smile. “If you insist.” Reaching behind her, she unhooked the bra and shook the straps down her arms.
Zelda’s tits were exquisite, pale, perfectly shaped teardrops with rosy nipples. My hands lifted without my planning it, each palm cupping one lovely tit. She inhaled sharply as I swiped my thumbs over the nipples.
“Feels good.” She arched her back a little, pressing her boobs further into my hands. “Harder, though. Pinch them more.”
I caught one pink tip between my finger and thumb and rolled it. I slid my other hand around to her back and pressed her closer to me.
“Come here. Lean down. I want to taste you, and I can’t sit up enough.”
“Hmmm.” Zelda twined her arms around my neck and lowered herself onto me, her sex lining up perfectly with the part of me that was dying for her touch. She wiggled up my body just enough that my mouth could reach the peak of one pretty tit.
Cupping it in my hand, I drew the nipple into my mouth, sucking hard. I pressed it between my tongue and
the roof of my mouth, scraping my teeth over it when Zelda hissed her pleasure.
“Let me have the other one.” I released the first nipple and stroked my hand down her spine. “I don’t like to play favorites.”
“Equal time is something I can believe in.” Zelda shifted, giving me easy access to her other boob. “Just don’t stop what you’re doing.”
“Baby, I could do this all night.” Rubbing the swell of her breast with the back of my fingers, I swirled my tongue around her areole, avoiding the tip. “You taste like cotton candy.”
She laughed softly. “I’m not that sweet, Eli. You know that.”
“I think you are.” Palming her tit, I licked her nipple and then gave her a gentle bite. “I think you want me to believe that you’re tough and salty, but the truth is that you’re soft and sweet.” I squeezed her boob. “At least here you are.”
“And you’re hard.” Zelda slid down me, rubbing her center against my throbbing erection. “God, you feel so good, Eli.”
“If you help me take off my jeans, we’ll both feel even better.” I brushed her hair back. “I want to see you, Zel. I want to see all of you.” A fissure of frustration ran through me. “I wish I could undress you myself . . .”
“Why, when it’s much more fun to watch me?” Tossing me a flirtatious smile, she climbed off me and stood alongside the bed. Tilting her head, she treated me to a slow, sultry wink and then turned her back to me.
I rolled to my side to get a better view, and what a view it was. Zelda unbuttoned her jeans and began to slowly ease them down her legs. Peering at me over her shoulder, she shook her hair so that it streamed down, shielding her face, and undulated so that her ass moved enticingly.
Her jeans slithered down to reveal brief black panties. Like her bra, these were plain, but it wasn’t what was there that mattered—it was what they revealed. Cut high on her legs, they showcased her rounded rear. My hands itched to cup those globes.
Zelda turned around and snapped the elastic of her underwear. “Do I keep these on?”
“Absolutely not. Take them off.” My voice was hoarse.
Next Man Up (Making the Score Football Romance Book 2) Page 14
