by LK Farlow
She releases a shuddering breath and steps away from me. Good girl, Jenny. Distance is good. “I’m gonna go finish changing now.” Her voice is nothing more than a rasp, and all I can do is nod—nod and remind myself of all the ways I’m no good for her—for any woman—for more than one night.
chapter six
Jenny
For the second time tonight, I’m hiding from Nate Reynolds in a bathroom. Only this time it’s to keep me from tackling him to the bed and exploring every inch of his sculpted body. Not that my unskilled hands would know a thing about how to touch him, but I’m a fast learner—I bet I could make it work. Plus, how hard could it really be?
Great. Now I’m thinking about him being hard.
I finish stripping off my dress, wishing I had time for a cold shower—Lord knows my libido needs to chill out and stay in her own lane. Instead, I settle on splashing my neck and chest with icy water from the sink. The feel of the coolness against my heated skin is like little pinpricks, but it does the trick.
Once I feel like I’m no longer at risk of making a fool of myself, I turn off the faucet and dry off with an overly fluffy hotel towel. I regret the pajamas I brought with me the minute I slide them on. I didn’t think twice about the small, flouncy cotton shorts and matching tank that exposes a sliver of skin just above the waistline of the bottoms when I packed them. I mean, why would I? No one ever sees me in my jammies but me—and now Nate will, too.
Giving myself a once-over in the full-length mirror, I cringe. My entire body is basically on display for him. And more importantly, so is my pump. Ugh.
I wish I wasn’t so self-conscious about people seeing it, but I learned quickly in my teenage years that assholes are abound, and most struggle to accept anyone who is different than they are. So what if my pancreas doesn’t work…so what if I need insulin to stay alive? I’m still freaking human—but to immature high schoolers, I might as well have been an alien from outer space. Unfortunately, after a few cringe-worthy adolescent experiences, I’m still body-conscious years later.
I make quick work of pricking my finger and checking my blood sugar levels—shockingly, it’s within my target range, what with the lack of food and my few drinks. However, if I want to keep the equilibrium, a bedtime snack needs to happen. After a mental tally of what snacks I packed, I settle on the pack of peanut butter crackers I know are in my purse and calculate the bolus.
One last glance in the mirror, and I secure my device to the inside of my panties, tucking my tubing into them as well for good measure—Lord knows there’s nowhere else to hide them in these pjs. God, please don’t let him notice it, and please don’t let him think I’m trying to seduce him.
Finally, I step out of the bathroom, only to stop short when I see that Nate is lounging on the far side of the bed—my bed. Why is he in my bed when there is a perfectly good chair?
He glances up at me and smirks, raking his hungry gaze over my body. “You gonna join me, GG?”
There’s that nickname again.
“S-sure,” I mumble out, stepping fully into the room. I walk over to the bed and climb into it. The sound of Nate groaning—all deep and husky—alerts me to the fact that I’m inadvertently giving him a straight shot down the front of my top.
Quickly I move to an upright position, clutching the neckline of my shirt to my chest. Hand on the Bible, I’ve never been more thankful that I inserted my infusion set into my bottom and not my belly. “Sorry. Uh—”
Nate pulls the covers back and gestures for me to slide under. “Nothing to be sorry about. Hell, if you want, you can do it again, and give me a minute or two to commit it to memory.”
Strangely, his pervy wisecrack instantly lightens the mood, and we both laugh. “Wanna watch TV?” I ask, grabbing the remote from the side table.
“Sure.”
Right as I press the power button, my stomach rumbles. Dammit, I forgot my crackers. As expected, Nate is quick to comment. “You hungry? I can call for room service.”
His thoughtfulness has those stupid bees buzzing again. “Actually, I have peanut butter crackers in my purse.”
He moves to a fully seated position. “Hold up. Lemme get this straight. You’d rather have a kiddie snack than a thick, juicy burger and fries?”
“Guilty, and I bet they’d taste even better if you got up and grabbed them for me.” I shrug and offer him a sweet smile when he scoffs and rolls his eyes.
Nate hauls himself up off the bed and saunters over to my purse, pausing before reaching into it. “Not gonna lie, I feel a little weird digging around in here.”
Snorting out a laugh, I ask him, “Why?”
“I don’t know. I guess it’s just one of those things that gets drilled into guys—not to snoop through a lady’s purse.”
“Riiiight,” I draw out the word. “But you’re not snooping. You’re retrieving something I specifically asked for.”
“True.” He plunges his hand the rest of the way in and roots around for a second. “Jesus, GG, what all do you have in here?” he asks, his eyes wide.
“What do you mean?”
“You have an entire vending machine in here.”
Now it’s me who’s scoffing. “Do not.”
“Do so.” And to prove his point, he starts pulling out my various snacks and lining them up on the dresser. Two things of crackers, a pack of gummies, a Kind bar, a beef jerky stick, and a baggie of Goldfish.
Sheepishly, I look down at my lap, studying the remote like it’s the most fascinating thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.
“Hey, no shame in your game. And, since you have a buffet in here already, there’s no need to call down for food.” He tosses my crackers with perfect aim, landing them directly next to me on the bed.
I tear into the packaging and stuff one into my mouth, mumbling a ‘thank you’ around the peanut buttery goodness. I devour two more and glance up to Nate, wondering what’s taking him so long. The sight I’m met with has me choking so hard I may as well have a mouthful of dust.
He’s standing there before me with his dress shirt long gone and his belt undone, the buckle all but pointing to his junk like a flashing neon arrow. “Uh…” I trail off, at a total loss for words.
Nate shrugs like he hasn’t a care in the world. “You changed into your pjs, so now I am, too.” He returns to unfastening his pants and shucks them off, leaving him in nothing more than a pair of skin-tight black compression briefs. Sweet merciful Jesus, I think I’m dying. But, oh, what a way to go.
His ever-present smirk turns to a full-blown grin when he notices the greedy way my eyes are roving over him—almost the same way a kid takes in the presents beneath the tree on Christmas morning.
He clucks his tongue at me. “Unlike you, I’m completely willing to stand here long enough for you to commit this to memory—I’m a giver like that. Hell, you can even snap a pic on your phone if you want.”
I bring my hands up to cover my heated cheeks. “My God, you are shameless.”
I feel the bed dip as Nate rejoins me. “Nah, GG, I just work hard for these goods and know it’d be a disservice to keep them all to myself.”
I bark out a laugh; once again, he’s managed to lighten the mood. “Do you even hear yourself when you talk?”
Instead of answering, he slides under the covers with me and rips open the pack of fruit snacks. “Fuck, these are good. The same kind Nat buys Tatum.”
“I know. She got me hooked on them, too.”
We both zero in on the remote laying in my lap at the same time, but he snags it before I can even think to move—damn police officer reflexes. After a few seconds of channel surfing, he settles on an old Cops rerun—how fitting.
We chat throughout the show, talking about everything and nothing all at once. Finally, about four episodes in, I roll to my side to face him and ask, “What made you become a cop?”
My breath catches when he follows suit, bringing us nose-to-nose, so our breath mingles. He
is one hundred percent close enough to kiss. Unfortunately, there will be no more kisses though. Because…friend zone.
“Honestly?” he asks, and I nod. “It started when I was a kid, from watching shows like this and Rescue 911. Then as I got older, I guess the seed was planted, and I just kept watering it. Now, I like knowing that I am helping make my community—the only place I’ve ever really called home—safer. I like knowing that what I do, day in and day out, makes a difference. Don’t get me wrong—some days it sucks, and it’s hard, and it hurts. Some days, I just want to sit and drink and cry after a shitty shift. But every day I put on my badge, I feel a sense of pride and…just this belonging…like I am exactly where I need to be.”
His response sucks the air from my lungs, leaving me utterly breathless and completely speechless. Turns out Nate Reynolds’s goodness doesn’t only apply to his looks—it extends down to his very soul.
At my lack of reply, his cheeks go ruddy. “Yeah, that was pretty—”
“Amazing!” I cut him off, not wanting to hear him downplay what is very clearly something he’s passionate about. “Seriously, Nate. That blew me away.”
He pushes himself up to a semi-upright position, shoots me a cocky as hell wink, and pretends to brush his shoulder off. “It’s all good; I tend to have that effect on people.”
“Oh, Jesus, you’re too much.”
Running his teeth over his lower lip, he grins. “You don’t even know, GG.”
“Is everything an innuendo with you?” I ask, snuggling down deeper into the fluffy duvet.
“Nah. Only like…ninety percent of things. But, enough about that. Is working at Bayside your life dream?”
“Uh, that would be a no. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with being a server, but it definitely isn’t what I want to be when I grow up.”
“What do you want to be?”
I hesitate, wondering if he really cares. “I love the food and beverage industry. I love the creativity, the camaraderie—and at times, the competitiveness. What I really want is to work my way up to maybe owning my own place one day.”
Nate nods thoughtfully. “I dig it. I can totally see you being the boss.”
As the night wears on, we talk about everything and nothing. We talk about our favorite childhood memories and my obsession with red Starbursts. We float from topic to topic until finally, with my head nestled—platonically—on his chest, sleep draws me under.
chapter seven
Nate
I blink my eyes awake, noticing several things all at once. One: I’m not in my room. Two: there’s someone in bed with me. Three: I’ve got her wrapped in my arms like I never want to let go, and she’s got her ass pressed into me like we’re glued together.
The question is, whose room am I in? My bedmate shifts in her sleep, causing her to slide across my shoulder and tickle my nose. I inhale and her scent fills my lungs. Jenny. I’m in bed with Jenny. Last night rushes back to me—our kiss, sneaking out of the reception, talking until we both fell asleep.
She stirs again, pushing her tight little ass farther into my groin, and Jesus Christ that feels good. All that’s separating us is my boxers and her little sleep shorts—in other words, practically nothing. My hips involuntarily press forward, and Jenny lets out a sleepy little moan.
I have one arm under her head and the other wrapped around her waist. The urge to slip my hand beneath her shirt is something fierce, but I don’t. I keep my palm firmly pressed to her belly and remain unmoving.
Which makes one of us.
The little minx keeps shifting and rubbing against my dick, like she’s trying to start a friction fire. I’m about a minute from coming in my briefs.
When her hand finds mine and brings it to her breast, I know I have to put a stop to this—even if it is fifty wet dreams coming true at once.
“Jenny, wake up,” I murmur into her ear. Fuck if it helps, though. Nah, she just rolls her hips and lets out the sexiest sigh I’ve ever heard. “Seriously, you gotta get up.”
I try and move my hand away from her body, but she curls her fingers, causing me to palm her perfect, perky tit. Oh, damn, this is so wrong. The hard bud of her nipple presses into my hand through her tank top, and my mouth waters imagining it in my mouth instead.
“Jenny, you have to stop,” I say, my voice rough and gritty with desire.
She moves her hand from mine, and I think I’m finally getting through to her. I go to slide my arm out from under her, thinking we probably both need some space, but she stops me dead when she reaches back and palms my erection, sliding her hand from root to tip.
“Fuck, GG, fuck that feels good, but—”
She partially rolls, twisting at her hips so she can look at me—and hell if she isn’t awake and alert. “I know what I want, Nate.” Her voice is nothing but pure lust.
“I’m not—”
She cuts me off again. “The guy for me, I know.” Her words fall off, and she moves to a seated position, nibbling on her lower lip. My body immediately misses hers.
I follow and move to an upright position as well. I open my mouth to speak, but she beats me to it.
“Look, I know you don’t do relationships—or even monogamy—and that’s fine. I know what I’m asking for. I want you. I want to be with you. Even if it’s only for one night.”
“A-are you sure?” I stutter out, like an inexperienced fifteen-year-old.
She doesn’t respond right away, but thanks to the light filtering in through the crack in the bathroom door, I can see her. I can see her as she slips the straps from her tank top down her shoulders and pushes her shirt to just beneath her breasts. I can see her dusty pink nipples, and fuck if they aren’t a perfect match for the dress she wore earlier.
“I’d rather have one night than a lifetime wondering. I’m a big girl, Nate—we can do this and still be friends when the sun rises.”
She sounds so confident and so sure. Fuuuuuck. Who am I to deny her? I dive in and capture her lips with my own, kissing, nipping, sucking, and teasing. Jenny gives as good as she gets, and before I know it, I have her on her back, and I’m settled between her thighs.
I thrust my hips forward, and she moans into my mouth. “God, GG, the way you sound—I can’t wait to hear it when you—”
She bites at my lips. “What are you waiting for?”
Jenny’s right—what am I waiting for? I roll off of her and back to my side of the bed. “Gonna grab protection,” I murmur, so she doesn’t think I’m leaving. “Why don’t you go ahead and lose everything keeping me from seeing and feeling that beautiful body of yours?”
“Okay, Nate,” she whispers, sounding damn near ready to float away.
I stalk to where I left my pants and fish my wallet out of the back pocket, retrieving the condom I keep in the billfold. When I turn back to the bed, I see my good girl followed my instructions perfectly. Her nightclothes and panties are laying in a heap next to her—so fucking hot.
I lick my lips as I toss the little foil packet toward her. She clutches it to her chest as I push my briefs down, stepping out of them as I move toward her. Her eyes eat me up as I lower myself down onto the bed.
Back under the sheets, I position myself back between her already spread thighs and press a hot kiss to her temple. This time when I roll my hips into hers, I’m met with nothing but damp, hot skin. “You’re already so ready for me,” I murmur into her ear.
Unexpectedly, she laughs. “Jesus, Nate, it’s like I can hear your smirk.” Reaching up, she draws me down to her mouth and kisses me like her life depends on it. We touch and rub and grind until we’re both so worked up it’s unbearable.
I take the condom from her and sheath myself. “Are you sure?” I ask one last time, hardly able to believe I’m about to sink into my little sister’s best friend.
She pushes her hips up toward me, wrapping her legs around my waist. “One thousand percent.”
And that’s all I need to hear. I push insid
e her, and I swear to God, it’s unreal how tight she is. We move together like we share the same brain, our bodies completely in harmony with one another. It’s the most delicious, erotic push—pull of my entire life. She fits me like a glove and meets me thrust for thrust.
Jenny pushes her hands through my hair before winding her arms around my neck, pulling me down to her. I lick and suck and bite at her neck as she whimpers out my name.
“You feel so good,” I grit out, palming the right side of her ass as she clenches around me. “So, so good.”
She falls over the edge before she can form a reply, and damn it all if I’m not a millisecond behind her.
Our harsh breathing is the only sound as we both recover from what was, hands down, the best sex I’ve ever had. Holy. Shit. I think I just had an out of body experience, because sex has never—and I mean, never—felt like that. It’s like her body was made for mine, which is fucking insane.
A million other equally absurd thoughts assault my brain—thoughts that should have me hauling ass back to my room—but instead I nuzzle deeper into her neck, peppering the smooth skin there with soft, open-mouthed kisses.
She shifts under me, trailing her nails over my back, a dreamy sigh spilling from her lips. “Jesus, Nate.”
I’m about to echo her sentiments when a beeping-buzzing noise fills the room. Jenny goes stiff as a board at the sound, and my eyes shoot to her phone on the bedside table, but it never lights up. What the…?
My confusion doubles when Jenny places both hands on my chest and pushes me off of her. Here I am, reveling in the afterglow of some damn good sex, and she’s all but ready to shove me out the door. Which is ironic, seeing as I’d usually have been dressed and on my way—I’m definitely not typically into the post-coital cuddle.
I’m about to ask her what’s up when—beep-beep-buzzzzz—it happens again. I know it’s not her phone, and it’s not mine either, so what in the hell is it?
She stands from the bed, taking the sheet with her so that it is wrapped tightly around her body, leaving me alone in the bed, naked and cold. Again, I repeat, what the…
