Claim My Baby (Crescent Cove 2)

“Is this your erection talking?” she asked dubiously.

“I do get more charitable at certain times, yes.” The corner of her lips lifted. “But no, that has nothing to do with this conversation. And as for being a coward, what about Moose? Don’t tell me you didn’t intend to invite him over for some barbecue brisket and sweet tea.”

“I stopped making that when we sold the bed-and-breakfast.”

“Damn shame. Best in the state. Hell, best north of Louisiana.”

And I could now verify she’d bewitched me in some unknown way, because here I was, praising her down-home cooking when I had the hard-on from hell.

Her cheeks flushed. “Aww, thank you. You really think I should make some for him?”

I nearly growled. “No. You couldn’t even find him on Facebook, Ally said.”

“No, that’s true, but—”

“Forget him.” In a second, I’d be pounding on my chest like a caveman. “If you want to try out your cooking skills, I’m game.”

“Are you asking me out?”

I tightened my hold on her. She was a glorious armful, and I liked her just that way. “More like I’m asking me in.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “Ohh.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Okay. I’m game too. And if we’re being honest about our wants and all…” She took a deep breath. “I’d like to watch you make yourself come.”

5

Sage

I was probably suffering from heat exhaustion. Was that possible from hot tubbing? If not, I was apt to be the first known case.

Why else would I ask my frenemy to jerk off for my viewing pleasure?

Not that he was going to do it. I could tell he was suffering from a serious case of shock, but he didn’t seem too inclined to abide by my request.

“We’re on vacay.” I tried to keep my voice light and not reel back from being turned down. I was so attuned to the possibility that it was hard for me not to just immediately shut down. “Vegas, remember? And you’re clearly uncomfortable…”

“Blue balls don’t kill, princess, I guarantee that.”

Princess. Had he given me a nickname? Should I balk at it, in light of women’s lib?

Fuck no. A sexy dude with an erection—for me—could call me anything he liked. Within reason.

“No, I know. But this trip is about new experiences, and I’ve never—I’ve never—”

“What?” he asked, so carefully that a part of me actually hurt.

How could he be this sweet right now and have hidden it so well from me for so long? Was I that oblivious? Or had it taken a moment like this, far away from our family and friends, to strip down to the essences of who we are?

Of course, we were physically stripped most of the way too. That probably helped.

And he was aroused. He’d already said it made him more charitable. So, what if we did something—anything at all—and we left this room and he went right back to being dickish Oliver? What if I went right back to being shrewish Sage?

Perhaps those were our assigned roles, and we couldn’t change them. It was like an adult reenactment of The Breakfast Club, exc

ept our version of detention on Saturday was griping through a lunch shift at the diner.