by Lila Monroe
“Are you kidding?” I laugh. “You did me a huge favor. Thank you.”
“I had a good time,” he says, taking a step towards me.
I hold my breath. My stomach does that flip again. THIS IS IT! my entire body screams. More orgasms are imminent!
Noah leans down and presses his lips to mine. It’s a sweet, but chaste-ish kiss. And before I can grab him and pull him down for more, it’s over. He’s moved back away from me, grabbing the handle of his bag as he starts toward the back door.
“Good night,” he says over his shoulder . . . leaving me standing there in the hallway.
Alone.
Well, that answers my question, I guess.
The question being, does he like me?
And the answer being, apparently not!
TWO HOURS LATER, I’m in bed, tossing and turning. I’ve replayed the entire weekend in my head over and over. The entire highlight reel is Noah. Noah dancing with me. Noah making me laugh, Noah making up that sweet and romantic proposal story. And the part that’s got me achy and so hot and bothered that I can’t sleep? Noah going down on me in that hotel room.
And then walking off to bed.
Dammit. I’m a grown woman, I can handle a meaningless hookup. Except . . . I wanted it to be more. Playing at fake-couple with Noah was so much fun, it made me wonder about the real thing.
Clearly, he didn’t feel the same.
Finally, I throw off the covers and head downstairs to get a glass of cold water. Because short of a cold shower, I’m running way too hot. I round the corner into the pitch-black kitchen and bash into something that shouldn’t be there. A body. A big, hard body.
I scream. A hand comes over my mouth. Which I instinctively bite.
“Jesus, Eve!”
Oh shit. “Noah?” I whisper into the dark.
“Yeah.”
I press my palm into his chest and give him a shove. “I thought you were a burglar!”
“Clearly. Since you just pit-bulled me.”
“Sorry.”
My eyes have adjusted to the dark now, and I can see him. Standing close. My hand still on his chest. His eyes dark on mine.
There’s silence. A long beat. And then suddenly, we’re reaching for each other.
It’s nothing like the chaste goodbye kiss from earlier—this is hard and hot and everything a kiss should be, and more. He’s bare-chested, and I hum against his mouth as my hands explore every hard ridge and dip as Noah backs me up against the fridge. The cool metal hits my skin, and I squeal.
He laughs.
“Cold?” he asks, dipping his head to kiss a searing trail down my bare neck.
“Nope,” I manage to pant. “Hot. Very, very hot.”
“Good.”
Noah tugs my hand, and we half-kiss, half-stumble our way outside and over to the pool house. We barely make it through the door before we’re on each other again. Noah lifts me clear from the floor and tosses me onto the bed. I land with a bounce, breathless.
“Get over here,” I demand, hungry for more.
“As you wish,” he says, chuckling, and then he’s on me again, stretching against the full length of my body, his hands going everywhere.
And I mean everywhere.
I moan into his mouth, impatiently peeling off his T-shirt and pajama pants. He strips my tank top over my head and dips to take my nipple into his mouth, sucking as it hardens between his lips, pinching the other with his fingers until I can barely stand it.
“Noah,” I gasp, pulling back. I get a look at him in all his naked glory; I can’t help but shiver in anticipation. Because oh God, he’s perfect.
He slides a hand between my legs as I reach for him, gripping his hardness in my palm and running my thumb over the tip. Noah groans. “Fuck, Eve . . .”
Yes please.
I stroke him again, loving the feel of him, as Noah curls one finger, then two inside of me. We’re both panting, eyes fixed on each other, and I swear, it’s the sexiest moment of my entire life.
Finally, Noah leans away and reaches to the nightstand for a condom. I help him roll it on,
and then he moves into position above me, bracing his arms above my head . . . which gives me the perfect opportunity to run my hands over his shoulders and back, relishing the feel of him, his skin blazing-hot to the touch. I wrap my legs around him and he glides his cock through my folds, making us both moan in pleasure. It’s so good, the pressure on my clit amazing, but I need more.
He thrusts inside slowly, kissing me, connecting with me everywhere as he fills me up. Damn, it feels incredible. He feels incredible. We find a rhythm and move together, his cock driving into me faster, the pressure building and building until I can barely stand it.
He reaches down to circle my clit expertly. “Come for me,” he whispers into my ear. “Come for me, baby.” Then he touches me just right, and angles his cock deeper, and I can’t hold back anymore. I come apart in a wave of pleasure, as Noah lets out a deep, sexy groan and surges into me again, riding out the climax until we collapse into a sweaty tangle of bodies.
Holy shit.
I gasp for air, blissed out.
I take back everything I said about the guy. Because he may be a player, but he’s got moves. And this is one time I don’t mind a guy being practiced.
Because as Noah just demonstrated beyond a doubt, practice definitely makes perfect!
15
EVE
I WAKE UP GROGGY. But then, as all my senses are filled with Noah, I remember last night. I’m in the pool house and he’s beside me, breathing softly as he sleeps. The sheets are warm and cozy and I want to turn toward him and nuzzle into him. But biology and curiosity get the better of me and I gingerly climb out of bed, hoping not to disturb him.
I go into the bathroom and take a sneak peek around. Because as I’ve learned, a man’s bathroom can tell you everything you need to know about him. So what does this one say about Noah? Well, he’s neat, which is a pleasant surprise, and obviously cares about good oral hygiene—he even flosses! I take a swig of his mouthwash and swish as I snoop in his medicine cabinet. No fungus creams or weird prescriptions—just a razor and shaving foam. And more condoms—a handy detail I tuck away for later.
I finger-comb my hair and wash my face before I leave the bathroom, pleased that it’s much nicer—and a lot cleaner—than the bathroom back at Sorority Central.
When I emerge, seeing the pool house in the morning light for the first time, I realize the entire place is bigger than my crappy rented room. No, it’s better than many rented rooms. There’s the bedroom area, a couch/lounging space with a TV, and even a slim galley kitchen. It’s almost hotel-like in its luxury and décor. I can’t blame Noah for sticking around. Hell, I’d be a full-time dog nanny if Viv offered and this place was included. Hmmm . . .
“What are you doing?” Noah asks, his voice husky with sleep.
“Just looking around,” I say, smiling over at him. “It’s pretty nice in here.”
He holds up the covers. “It’s even nicer in here.”
I laugh. It’s all the encouragement I need. I slide into the bed and his arm comes around me, pulling me into his side.
“Good morning,” he says, kissing the top of my head as he squeezes.
“It is a good morning,” I say, still feeling after-glowy. I’ve had some decent hookups before, but nothing like Noah. I now understand why Delia DeYoung was so inspired to create her art. I feel inspired—like I could go out and paint half a dozen stunningly colorful canvases after all those orgasms.
“I’m glad you decided to come out here and seduce me,” Noah says, his chest rumbling under my head.
I look at him. “Excuse me?”
“’Getting a glass of water’” he smirks, snuggling me closer. “Nice try. You tried to resist me, but you just couldn’t help yourself.”
I laugh. “Whatever you want to believe. Besides, I wasn’t the only one taking a midnight walkabout . . .”
I know he’s full of shit, but I don’t care. He’s warm and smells good and what starts as a cuddle quickly turns into more as we begin to kiss. We worked off the urgent edge last night, so this morning, in his bed, it’s lazy and slow. He pulls me on top of him and I straddle his hips, my hands on his chest as we savor each other.
Until my phone beeps.
Breaking the kiss, I look at my phone on the nightstand. It’s a calendar reminder. “Crap,” I say, sliding off him, even as he groans and tries to hold me in place, hands on my thighs. “We have all those appointments today.”
“We’ll cancel.” He tugs me back. “We’ve been earning plenty.”
I laugh as I climb off him and reach for my underwear. “Not yet, though I’m pretty darn impressed with how amazing we’re doing.”
“You doubted my genius?” While he’s smirking, I can see the real question in his eyes.
I sit back down on the bed beside him. “Honestly? Yes.” I reach over and trace a finger over his chest into the little patch of hair between his pecs, because I can’t seem to stop touching him. “I’ve never been so happy to be proven wrong, though.”
He grins at me.
“We’re kicking ass at this,” I say. “Because of you.”
He pulls me down for a kiss. “We’re a team.”
Just then my phone rings. With a long-suffering sigh, Noah lets me go.
I squeak when I see who it is. “It’s Viv!”
Noah shrugs.
“What do I do?”
“Uh . . . answer it,” he suggests and then sits up to plant a kiss on my lips. “Or don’t. I can think of better things to do with your mouth right now.”
“Shhhh,” I say, pushing him back with a palm. “Hi Viv! How’s Europe?” I ask, my voice high and a little screechy.
“Eve,” she says. “Europe is very . . . European. How is everything going there?”
“Great! Just great!” I say. “The dogs are great and the house is . . . great!”
I glance at Noah who is very amused. Maybe because I can’t stop saying “great.”
“Noah isn’t giving you any trouble?” Viv asks.
“Noah? Trouble?”
The man in question lifts an eyebrow. A very mischievous eyebrow. Then he starts kissing my neck. Nuzzling under my ear. Tracing over my breast with his big, capable hand until I melt into—
“Eve? Are you still there?” Viv says into my ear. “Maybe we have a bad connection.”
“No, no, I’m here!” I clear my throat. “He’s . . . he’s no trouble at all.”
Unless you call multiple orgasms trouble . . .
“He’s staying out of your hair?”
“Oh, he’s not in my hair at all,” I say and almost laugh when his fingers drag up through my locks, tugging a little. His lips are still on my neck, but now they’re moving down. Down. Oh-so-perfectly down.
“Don’t let him use up all your groceries,” she laughs. “That boy loves to eat!”
I have to bite my lip as “that boy” spreads my knees wide with his big hands and starts lowering his head, meaningfully.
“Oh, I’ve learned all about how he likes to eat,” I say, doing my best not to laugh. But then Noah’s face is pressing against my panties and I can’t take it anymore. I’m going to burst out laughing. Or moaning. Oh yeah, definitely moaning.
“Anyway, Viv, I have to run. I need to get busy . . . I mean to work!”
I end the call and reluctantly pull away from Noah. “You’re terrible,” I say, laughing. “What if she heard?”
“You need to learn to be quieter,” he grins. “Get back here. I can’t make you come if you run away from me!”
I’m tempted to let him finish what he started, but we have commitments. Dog-shaped commitments that are the only thing standing between us and some major doo-doo with Viv.
“Hold that thought until later,” I say as I blow him a kiss and hurry to the main house to get ready.
MANY HOURS, twelve appointments, and an amazing thirteen hundred dollars later, I’m eager to meet with my besties for a much-needed catch-up. We meet at our new favorite place—a taco joint that Zoey discovered recently thanks to her foodie boyfriend, Cam.
We’re sipping on our margaritas and snacking on nacho chips and salsa as we wait for our tacos. Zoey has just updated us on the progress of her cookbook, and Gemma’s telling us about her latest client when she stops mid-sentence.
“Wait,” she says, frowning as she searches my face. Then she looks at Zoey, pointing at me. “What do you see?”
“What?” I reach for a napkin as Zoey examines my face. “Salsa? Where?”
Zoey shakes her head. “Gemma’s right. You got some. ”
“WHAT?” I say in mock astonishment. But then I remember these are my two best friends, and they know.
“Details!” Zoey demands. “Spill!”
OK, I’m kind of bursting to tell them. “All right, yes I did,” I admit, unable to stop the huge grin on my face.
“AND?” Gemma and Zoey demand.
I take a long, slow sip of my drink before I tell them the truth. “It was . . .” I have to exhale. “It was amazing.”
“Multiples?” Zoey asks.
“Those are urban legends,” I quip. “But plenty, in fast succession.”
They give me high fives across the table.
“Wait,” Zoey says. “You’re not going to do an art installation about him, are you?”
We had a good laugh when I shared those gallery photos with them, but I shake my head now, serious. “No,” I say, blushing. “But I could. Damn, girls, he so knows what he’s doing.”
My besties sigh in solidarity because they know. They have amazing guys. Although, I have to remind myself that their guys are committed to them. Noah is committed to the moment. Which is enough. Right?
“More details,” Gemma says, making a “gimme” gesture.
I start at the beginning, telling them about my mom and Rex and the wedding. Then I tell them about the fun day Noah and I had touring and pretending to be another couple at the tasting. We had a laugh about the cakes and how we almost got caught.
Then I told them about the late-night kitchen meetup.
“That is an adorably sexy meet-cute,” Gemma says. “Like it was meant to be.”
“Right?” I say, so excited that I’m not the only one who thinks so.
“Wait,” Zoey says, frowning. “What does this mean? Are you dating now?”
I bite my lip. “I don’t know.”
“Oh shit,” Gemma says, freezing halfway to dipping a chip. “You’ve got that look on your face . . .”
“No, no, no!” I say. “It’s all good! I’m totally chill about this.”
When Zoey gives me the eye, I cross my heart. “Promise.”
“He does sound like fun,” Gemma says.
“So much fun,” I say. “And not just bedroom fun, though . . .” I fan myself with my hand.
“Good,” Zoey says, tipping her margarita glass into mine with a clink. “Congratulations. You needed to scratch that itch.”
“Consider it well scratched,” I say. But as I sip my drink, I start to really wonder about Noah. I mean, I am totally on board with the hookup thing, but is that all this is?
Am I just convenient for him, being that I’m literally twenty feet away? Part of me thinks maybe, but when I remember all the fun we had and how the connection between us seems so . . . electric, I can’t help but wonder if there’s more to it. Unless I’m letting romance goggles cloud my judgement.
Because I guess I don’t even know: is Noah even a relationship guy? We haven’t talked about our pasts at all.
“Get out of your head, Evie,” Gemma says suddenly, resting a palm on my arm. “I can see you overthinking this, but . . .”
Zoey nods. “It sounds like you’re having fun and he knows what he’s doing,” she say
s. “Just go with it, you know? You deserve to have a good time. Don’t overthink.”
Gemma nods. “Exactly. And if it goes somewhere? Great. If not, well, you got some amazing sex, amirite?”
“So amazing!” I agree.
Just then, my phone dings with a text. All three of us lean to read the message from Noah.
Fiona, what time will you be home tonight? Dick.
“Fiona?” Zoey barks as she looks up at me wide-eyed. “Who the fuck is Fiona? And is he offering up dick? That’s so weird.”
I laugh. “Fiona was the bride from the cake tasting. Dick was her guy.”
“Adorable,” Zoey says, grinning. “Inside jokes mean he really likes you.”
“Don’t,” I say, holding up a hand. I do not want to believe Gemma’s rationalization that makes such perfect sense.
I text back. Sorry, Dick. Out with the girls right now. Don’t wait up – I’m spending the night with the pool boy.
Then I panic. Am I being too forward? What if he was all one and done?
Before I can get too anxious, though, he texts back: Pool boy is a lucky guy. Bet he’s looking forward to it.
I return a smiley face emoji and add so am I before I put down my phone, trading it for my margarita.
My friends are beaming at me. “What?”
Gemma laughs. “We’re just happy about that giant smile he’s putting on your face.”
I feel myself blush, but can’t help but be happy about it, too.
16
NOAH
DON’T WAIT up – I’m spending the night with the pool boy.
I SMILE DOWN at the message, though I wish Eve was already at the house and not out with her friends. Especially as I look across the table at my friend, Eddie, who is taking a ridiculous two-pronged approach to getting his ex out of his head. The first is to troll her constantly on social media, and now he’s got me at a bar to be his wingman so he can meet women in his attempt to bang it out with random hookups.
Unfortunately for him, that’s not really working either. Maybe the stink of lovesick desperation is a turnoff. If only he’d realize he should just go back to Mindy and beg forgiveness. But he’s not ready to believe he’s the one who fucked up, and I’m tired of trying to be the voice of reason.
