The Shacking Up Series

by Helena Hunting

  “No!” And I say that way too fast for it to be even remotely true.

  “Hey.” He tucks a single finger under my chin, urging me to look at him. “I’ve had an amazing day with you and I don’t want it to end, but I also don’t want you to feel uncomfortable in any way. You run this show, Cosy. I follow your lead.”

  He’s so perfect and gentlemanly. And also seriously hot and in control when he’s making me come. Which is something I want him to do again. I exhale a shuddery breath. “Okay.”

  The elevator doors slide open. He doesn’t make a move to get off, though. Instead, he reaches out and presses the open door button. “We don’t have to go to my place.”

  “I know. I want to.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.” I link my fingers with his and step out of the elevator, pulling him along with me. It’s go time.

  Chapter Six: And the Surprise of the Night Goes To . . .

  Griffin

  I exhale a relieved breath as Cosy steps into the hall. Everything about today has been perfect, up to the moment she stepped into the elevator and went cagey. It was a stark reminder how much younger than me she truly is.

  Most of the time I try not to let the age gap be a thing, although occasionally her choice of attire makes the generational difference hard to ignore.

  Like her shorts today. I tried to behave myself, but then she drank that champagne and sat in my lap and just . . . how the hell could I resist? Why would I even want to is probably a better question.

  I assume since she’s in college, she’s done her fair share of dating, so I’m not sure why she’s suddenly nervous and adorably shy. I don’t want her to feel like there are expectations, so I’ve been taking it pretty slow, waiting until now to invite her back here. I’ve also seen the building she lives in. It could be worse, but it sure could be a hell of a lot better, and my penthouse here is flashier than I like. I don’t want my financial situation to be another glaring difference that makes her question this. Although I suppose a private helicopter tour wasn’t exactly a cheap date.

  I pass my keycard over the sensor and open the door, ushering her inside.

  She comes to a halt three steps in, and I nearly slam into her. “Holy hell, Griffin. This is . . . not a normal hotel room.”

  “Uh, no, it’s a suite.”

  “It’s like a really, really nice apartment. Like the nicest apartment I’ve ever been in.” She wanders around the living room, running her fingers along the arm of the couch. She peeks her head in the bedroom and moves on quickly, a flush creeping up her neck.

  She stops at the kitchen and does some kind of swoony thing. “You have a freaking wall oven!” She opens the cupboards and drawers. “And plates and silverware.”

  “It’s not very comfortable living out of a bar fridge.”

  “Do you ever cook?”

  “Occasionally. I have a lot of business dinners, though, and cooking for one often seems pointless.”

  “If I had a kitchen like this, I’d cook all the time. I’d throw a damn dinner party.”

  I slip a hand into my pocket and lean against the doorjamb. “Feel free to come by any time and throw me a dinner party.”

  I grin when she tosses a dirty look over her shoulder. “I need to check out the bathroom.” She flits past me, long legs carrying her across the room. Maybe inviting her here wasn’t the best idea. Because now that she is, all I can think about is how much I’d like to get her out of those too-short shorts and pick up right where we left off on that picnic table. After a shower, of course.

  “Oh my God! You have a Jacuzzi tub!” I follow her into the bathroom. She’s standing in the middle of the empty tub with her hands on her hips. “Please tell me you’ve used this at least once.”

  “I’ve used it at least once.” That’s untrue, but clearly it’s not what she wants to hear.

  She cocks her head to the side. “You’re lying. I can’t believe you haven’t taken a bath in here. If this were mine, I’d have a bubble bath every single damn night.”

  “You’re welcome to have one now, if you’d like.”

  “Don’t tempt me.”

  “Why not? Someone should get some use out of it.”

  She wrinkles her nose. “That would be weird.”

  “What would be weird about you enjoying my Jacuzzi?”

  “Oh I don’t know, Griffin, maybe because I’d be lounging in a bubble bath naked while you’re sitting out there doing whatever.” Her cheeks flush deeper as she flails toward the doorway I’m leaning against.

  I fight a grin. “Weren’t you planning to use my shower, anyway? How would that be any different?”

  “A shower is not the same as a bubble bath in a Jacuzzi that can fit four adult bodies.” The flailing and flushing amp up a few notches. “I mean, not that I think four adults should get into a Jacuzzi together or anything, especially not naked. I just . . . It’s just, I-I-I—”

  I try to save her from having to openly reject me. “I get it. You don’t want to be naked, covered in bubbles in my bathroom while I’m out there thinking about you being naked, covered in bubbles. It’s completely understandable.” Except based on the way her eyes flare and her cheeks flush even more, I’m not sure my attempt at diffusing the tension is working. I take a step back into the hall. “I’ll let you freshen up. Shower or bath, it’s up to you. I’ll be out there behaving myself, not thinking about you being naked.”

  I turn away, internally berating myself for fucking this up and making it unnecessarily awkward.

  “Griffin?”

  I pause and look over my shoulder. Bad fucking move. Cosy’s still standing in the middle of the tub, fingers at her lips, that long braid hanging over her shoulder, her clothes streaked with orange, like her skin. She’s caked in dust, with windblown hair. She looks like freedom wrapped in a beautiful package. One I’d like to unwrap and get my hands all over, dirty or not.

  “Do you need something? Your bag? I can grab it for you.”

  “No. I don’t need my bag.” She lifts a shoulder, looking uncertain. “Maybe you want to have a bubble bath with me?”

  It’s sort of a question. My eyebrows shoot up, and I’m pretty sure the speed with which my cock swells could go down in the Guinness Book of World Records for fastest hard-on reaction time.

  “Unless you don’t want to. I mean, maybe it’s not your thing. I can have a shower.” She grips the edge of the tub as if she’s preparing to get out.

  “I want to.” I take a step toward her. “Definitely.”

  A shy, flirty smile appears. “I thought it could be fun, and we have all this time before dinner.”

  “I think there’s bubble bath somewhere in here. They always leave a Jacuzzi package in these suites.” I don’t want to make assumptions, but getting into a bath together seems a lot like an invitation for sex. I’ve never been a jump - into - bed - right - away guy. Usually there are at least a few get - to - know - you dates before that happens. But I’ve been cautious with Cosy, more so than usual, possibly because she’s the first person I’ve made it past date one with since Imogen broke off our engagement. So it feels oddly like we’re moving at Mach 10 when we were crawling along before.

  Cosy turns on the water, testing the temperature with her wrist while I open cupboards, searching for the damn basket they always leave in suites for exactly this purpose. I find it in the linen closet with the white bathrobes. “Got it!” I hold up the bottle of bubble bath triumphantly and turn to find Cosy sitting on the edge of the Jacuzzi, watching the bath fill while she plays with the end of her braid.

  I unscrew the cap and cross over to the tub, sniffing the contents. It smells sweet and floral, but not overwhelming. I tip the bottle upside down and squeeze.

  “Oh my God!” Cosy grabs for it, which catches me off guard and the bottle slips from hand, landing in the tub with a splash.

  “Is it too strong?” Maybe I should’ve let her smell it first; bubbles are
already forming, spreading across the surface as Cosy fishes the bottle out.

  “You don’t need a lot of this stuff, and you dumped, like, half the bottle in one shot.”

  “Oh.” I watch the scented foam expand impressively.

  “If you turn the jets on, the entire bathroom will be full of bubbles at this rate.” Cosy giggles. It’s a sweet sound.

  I give her an apologetic smile. “Should we start over?”

  “Nah, it’ll calm down eventually. I think.” She pulls her shirt over her head and drops it on the floor. She’s wearing a white satin bra, trimmed with lace. Well, it was white, but there are streaks of orange dirt marring the pale fabric. It’s screams innocence, and I have to wonder if that was in any way intentional.

  Cosy wears a lot of tanks—often sheer—and short shorts, so I’ve seen a lot of skin in the past two weeks, but this is very different. This is her undressing in front of me with the intent of getting naked. At least I think that’s what happening.

  “Let me help.” My voice is gravelly and low as I close the distance between us.

  She gives me a cheeky smile. “You think I can’t undress myself?”

  “I’m sure you’re very, very capable, Cosy, but I’m looking for any excuse I can to touch you right now. If that’s okay with you, of course.”

  “I’m okay with that.” Her teeth sink into her bottom lip.

  I cup her face in my hands and dip down to kiss her. Her palms settle on my chest and she tips her head to the side, inviting me to deepen it. I indulge for a few seconds before I pull away. Goose bumps flash across her skin as I flick the button open on her shorts and drag the zipper down, exposing the matching panties. I push the shorts over her hips and drop to one knee, sliding them down her creamy, tanned thighs. Cosy braces a hand on my shoulder as she steps out of them. I place a kiss below her navel before I stand again.

  Her eyes dart from my mouth to my chest. “I can help you too.” She tugs the hem of my shirt, fingers tickling my abs as she pushes it up. She’s much shorter than me, so I take over when it reaches my pecs and pull it over my head.

  She bites her knuckle and runs her free hand down my chest. “You’re like one of those statues in a museum, but not carved out of marble,” she says.

  I laugh, but my ego inflates. “Thanks, I think.”

  She lifts her gaze to meet mine. “Oh, it’s definitely a compliment. Please tell me you have to work for this. Or lie if you don’t. No one should be this cut without some effort.”

  “I spend a decent amount of time at the gym.”

  “That makes one of us,” she murmurs. She follows the treasure trail to the waistband of my shorts and tugs the belt free, unfastening it, then popping the button. I groan when she pulls the zipper down, my erection straining behind it. My shorts drop to the floor since, unlike Cosy’s, mine aren’t painted on my body. Without them, there’s no way of hiding my appreciation or my excitement, which looks like it’s trying to strong-arm its way out of my boxer briefs.

  Cosy makes a face I’m not sure how to read. “That’s nothing like a museum statue.”

  “What does that mean?” I’ve always considered myself pretty gifted in this department, so the possibility that she could be less than impressed is irksome.

  She smirks and flips her braid over her shoulder. “Listen to how offended you sound. Usually the peens are either missing or look like they belong on a toddler. This definitely doesn’t belong on a toddler.” She pokes the head of my erection through my boxers, making it twitch. Her eyes flip up to mine, and she does jazz hands, grinning. “It’s alive!” She takes a couple dancing steps away from me and glances at the tub. The bubbles have risen about a foot above the edge and they’re still climbing.

  “Oh my God! Look at the mess you made!” Still wearing her bra and panties, she steps into the tub and sifts through the foam until she finds the taps and turns the water off. She gives me a saucy grin and sinks down, disappearing into the bubbles. “It’s like sitting inside a cloud!” She laughs and then sputters, “But it doesn’t taste as nice as I imagine a cloud would.”

  “I’d imagine clouds taste like nothing, since they’re made of water.” I leave my boxers on and step into the tub, pushing foam out of the way in search of Cosy. I find her on the opposite side, the only part of her that isn’t obscured is her face, but she has a bubble goatee decorating her chin. I sink down beside her and stretch my arm across the edge.

  “When I was a kid, I always believed clouds would taste like cotton candy or marshmallows.” She scoops up a handful of bubbles in her hand.

  “Bet that feels like yesterday,” I say, then realize how bad that sounds.

  Cosy’s mouth drops open, and she blows the handful of bubbles in my face. “Jerk.”

  “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it came out.” I grab for her, but she’s slippery with suds and she slides out of my grasp, to the other side of the tub. I get a hold on her ankle before she gets too far and drag her back.

  She doesn’t fight to get away this time, but she also looks fairly unimpressed. Our legs tangle under the water as I pull her closer, hands roaming blindly over her curves as she straddles me. “You know, Griffin, you’re doing a shitty job of managing your daddy complex.”

  “It came out wrong. I don’t have a complex.” I brush bubbles out of her hair, which proves to be fairly impossible since we’re surrounded.

  “Are you sure about that? Maybe it’s a subconscious thing. Maybe you aren’t even aware you have one. Maybe you’ve been in denial.” She scoops up an armful of bubbles and dumps them on my head. Then drags them down the side of my face to my chin.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “Giving you a bubble beard.” Her tone implies the duh. She gives me a saucy grin and wags her brows. “Now you look like a dirty grandpa.”

  “It came out the wrong way.”

  “Relax, Griffin. I’m playing around with you.” She runs her fingers through my hair, flinging away the suds that cling to her hands. She does the same thing to my cheeks before she leans in and brushes her lips over mine. “Ten years isn’t that big a difference.”

  “Eleven.”

  “Close enough. Stop splitting hairs. It’s like you want something to feel guilty about.” She dips back down, and this time she sucks on my bottom lip.

  I wrap my arms around her and sink into the kiss. I ease my hands down her sides, gripping her ass to pull her closer.

  It’s probably a good thing we’re not completely naked, otherwise this could get dangerous quickly since the condoms are in the nightstand by the bed. We make out, kissing, hands roaming under the water, grinding on each other, neither one of us in a rush. It’s sweet and sexy and just . . . refreshing. That’s what Cosy is—free of pretense, she lives in the moment.

  She breaks the kiss and leans back, pressing her hips closer to mine. For a few seconds I’m confused, until her bra straps slide down her arms and she slingshots it over the side of the tub. It lands on the tile with a wet slap.

  What I want to do immediately is look down and cup what’s been offered, but I resist the urge to grope and ogle. I’m willing to delay gratification for a few precious seconds. I meet Cosy’s gaze. She’s chewing nervously on the inside of her lip, and both of her hands are at her throat, slowly trailing down her chest. I follow the movement, her fingertips moving over the wet swell and disappearing into the foamy water. It laps at her nipples, the tips of which are barely visible.

  I wrap my hands around her waist, lifting her out of the water, eyes still on hers as I kiss the space between her breasts, which are full and lush and perky as fuck. I kiss my way across the swell, savoring her sweet, soapy skin and her soft moan when I close my lips around her nipple and suck gently.

  Cosy rearranges herself so her chest is level with my face and her hands slide into to my hair. She grips the strands as I palm one breast and kiss the other. My name is a hoarse cry when I bite the swell on my way across her c
hest to give her other breast the same treatment.

  “I think bath time is over,” I growl into her skin. I move to sit on the edge of the tub, dropping her back in my lap. I encourage her to wrap her legs around my waist as I sling mine over the edge and my feet hit the floor. I have to adjust my hold as I stand, since we’re both slippery and sudsy. Cosy shrieks and clings tightly when I almost slip on the tile halfway across the bathroom. But I manage to get us to the bed without taking us to the floor on the way.

  As soon as I set Cosy on the end, she stops kissing my neck and brings my mouth back to hers. At the same time she tries to push my wet boxers over my hips with one hand and her panties down with the other.

  I chuckle and break the kiss. “One thing at a time, Cosy.”

  “I want to get naked with you.”

  “And I want to get naked with you, so why don’t we help each other out.” I slide my fingers into the waist of her panties and drag them over her hips. At the same time, she pushes my boxers over mine. Being wet makes everything more difficult, so we each use one hand to help the other out. It’s awkward, and we’re both laughing while still trying to kiss. I finally kick my soaked boxers off, and Cosy’s panties land on the floor at my feet in a wet heap.

  I curse when she wraps her hot hand around me and squeezes. Her other palm lands on my chest, and she leans back, eyes darting down. They flare, and her expression shifts to disbelief. “Jesus H. Christ with a magnifying glass. What the hell, Griffin?”

  I drop my own gaze. I’m far from fucking small, so I’m not sure what the magnifying glass comment is about. “What the hell, what?”

  She gives me a slow, tentative stroke, thumb brushing over the head, which makes my eyes roll up. “This seems like a lot.”

  I chuckle and her cheeks flush pink. “Don’t worry, it’ll only go where you ask for it.”

  “I hope you have lube,” she mumbles and then pulls my mouth back to hers.

  I don’t actually have lube, but I’m not too worried. I make her come with my fingers before I go down on her and make her come again. I kiss my way over her stomach, pausing at each nipple before I claim her mouth again. At some point, her braid comes loose and the dark, wavy strands spread out across the white comforter.