Breaking Even (Sterling Shore 5)

When his lips brush mine and he flips me to be on my back, that excitement floods me again.

“And what are we going to do for those thirty minutes?” I ask, trying not to giggle, squeal, or scream out in joy.

He purses his lips as though he’s giving that serious thought, and then he slides to the edge of the bed. All I see is him dropping the old condom into the waste basket beside the bed, and then the nightstand opens again before a foil-crinkling resounds in my ears. I feel the tingles of excitement rock through my body like a live wire has just been set loose inside me.

“I have a few ideas,” he says, grinning over his shoulder.

When he turns around, a new condom is on, and I can’t look at anything else. This day is so different than I thought it

was going to be.

“I’ve always been a fan of show and tell,” I murmur distractedly, feeling his grin rather than seeing it because my eyes are otherwise engaged.

“Really?” he asks mildly, crawling back over the bed toward me, looking like a stalking predator. I’ll happily be his prey. “Because I’ve always been a bigger fan of show,” he adds, and then his lips come down on mine just as he thrusts deep inside me.

This is my new favorite day of the year.

***

RYE

Something smells incredible, but it’s too hard to move. Opening my eyes seems impossible. But my stomach growls in response to the delicious scent that is getting stronger, and I’m forced to wake up.

Why the hell was I asleep?

I look over at the clock to see it’s seven in the evening. Did I really just take a nap?

It’s then I see the cute, white cotton panties that are still on my floor where I threw them earlier.

Brin. That’s why I took a nap. I never would have thought she’d be so damn ravenous in the bedroom. In fact, I barely kept up. We spent the afternoon doing all my favorite things, and now I feel as though I’ve spent the day working out.

She’s not in the bed, which prompts me to frown, and then I curse myself for being disappointed.

I didn’t go over there for this. In fact, I went over there for the exact opposite. I wanted to explain about Jessica, but I also wanted to tell her how much I valued her friendship, even though we haven’t been friends for long.

I didn’t want her thinking it had anything to do with her, but I’m not the relationship guy. It’s not what I want.

Then she had to go and fucking say the shit she was saying, and every time she said something, I wanted to shake her. And she was right—I was fucking with her head. Problem is, she’s been fucking with mine, too.

I never meant to kiss her. I never meant to grab her up from the floor or enjoy the way her legs immediately wrapped around me. I never meant to hold her like I wanted nothing else. And I sure as hell never meant to walk over here and fuck her in my house, on my bed, on my floor, against my wall, or in my closet—I still don’t know how we ended up in the closet.

But the first taste I had of being inside her was different than anything I’ve ever experienced. There was more going on than just sex. I’m not sure that even makes sense, but for once, sex was more than just a means of having fun. It meant something.

I’m scared this has just gotten incredibly complicated. What do I do now? Brin is addictive. I never would have thought she could be so damned addictive.

The smell gets even stronger, more divine, so I stand up and grab my boxers, deciding to go investigate. The closer I get to the kitchen, the bigger my smile involuntarily spreads, which just worries me that much more. Why am I smiling? Why the hell can’t I stop?

When I reach the kitchen, my stupid-ass grin gets painful. Brin is standing at the stove, wearing nothing but my shirt, and singing quietly as she stirs something in a pan. My shirt looks really damn good on her.

It’s hard to tell what she’s singing over the sizzles and crackles on the stove, especially since she’s doing it so quietly. But I take a seat on the stool behind the kitchen island bar, and I watch the show she’s putting on.

Is she singing the Macarena? Does anyone even know the words to that song?

She grabs a pan and moves it to be on a cooling rack on the counter, and I prop up and watch her as she bends over to look in the oven, inspecting whatever is in there. My shirt doesn’t crawl up high enough for me to see her bare ass. Damn.

She closes the oven door and turns around, but when she sees me, she screams as though I just said boo. I just arch an amused eyebrow to complement my teasing grin, while she gasps for air and covers her heart.

She’s brushed her hair and put on a little makeup, something she would have had to do at her house when she went to collect the groceries. That makes me feel like a jerk. She feels like she has to try and look better right after mind-blowing sex.