Up in Flames (Rosemary Beach 13)

But he hadn’t, and I was about to take advantage of it.

“Ah,” she whimpered, as my tongue ran up the plump pink folds. “Yes” was her next pant as she lifted her hips.

I wasn’t going to be able to do this for long. I needed my own release. A few more licks, and I moved up, slid the condom on, and plunged into her, closing my eyes as the tight squeeze pulled me in further. I loved sex. So fucking much. “You like that, baby?” I asked, knowing from the way she moved and moaned that she loved it.

“Yes,” she said, opening her legs wider and moving her knees up my sides. “Fuck me harder, like you did last night.”

Grinning, I began to pound into her as she cried out my name over and over in a chant. I liked that a fucking lot. I gave it to her while losing a bit of my own control. She’d probably be sore from this, but she’d remember me.

Jill hadn’t been gone long when my apartment door opened and Cope walked in. He didn’t look pleased. Big shocker there. He was always pissed. About life.

“Enjoy that?” he asked in a disgusted tone.

Did the dude never get any pussy? What was his deal? A man needed fucking.

“As a matter of fact, I fucking loved it. She was a wildcat. Left scratches and moaned loudly. Even screamed some.”

Cope didn’t look amused or even like he had heard me. “You aren’t going to be able to pull this off with Nan. She’s cold toward you. Detached, even. I spoke with DeCarlo, and he’s moving you to another job. You’ve messed this one up. Pack your things, make your excuses, and be ready to leave at three today.” Then the bossy bastard turned to leave.

“What? Wait!” I said, setting my still-empty coffee cup down.

“Do I need to speak slower?” he asked, stopping and turning back to me. “Your face isn’t pretty enough. She needs more than pretty.”

“I have a plan.” I lied, because I’d fucked Jill all night instead of making a plan like I was supposed to.

“No, you don’t. I do. You leave at three.”

I opened my mouth to argue again when his glare darkened. Although I wasn’t scared of much, that son of a bitch was fucking scary.

“Three,” he said simply, then turned and left the apartment.

Fuck me. I had failed at my first job. Shit. Jill had been good but not that good. I wanted to succeed and show these motherfuckers I could do it. Nan should have been the easiest thing I ever did. Yet she’d been the hardest damn female I’d ever encountered.

If I packed up and left, then I was giving up. I was letting them prove I was a pussy. I wasn’t a damn pussy. Nan was not going to screw this up for me. Damn her stubborn, moody ass. I’d given her notes and taken her on a romantic date. Last night was my thank you? Oh, hell no.

I had until three today. I could fix this shit. She’d love me again. Or at least she’d want me. I just needed a fucking plan. I had, oh, six hours to get one. Damn, I was screwed.

Nan

I had two texts from Major, but I was not in the mood this morning. Last night, I’d been so ready for him to leave that I’d fallen asleep downstairs during the movie. It was nice of him to carry me up to my room, but still. I just felt like Major was a waste of my time. He’d never be a Gannon, but the only man who could get me over Gannon was a Gannon.

I sat in my red silk robe on the bar instead of a bar stool, with a glass of orange juice and a Greek yogurt. It was my go-to breakfast option before I went running. My body was exhausted this morning, as if I had spent the night making love—no, scratch that—having hot, wild sex with Gannon.

Blushing, I thought about the ache between my legs and wondered if I had actually touched myself while sleeping. I thought I must have masturbated, because I did feel used. I was a little sore. I chuckled, thinking how insane I was becoming. Next I’d be role-playing in my sleep. I needed help.

I had lain in bed this morning and considered going back to Vegas and looking for him. I didn’t have many morals. Did I even care that he had knocked up a girl? I mean, I doubted he was going to marry her, and I just needed him out of my system. If I could prove that the memory was more fantasy than reality, it might help me. But then I decided I didn’t want this dream ruined. Even if it happened only while I slept, it was still mine. I still got to hold it close. He belonged to me then, and he made me very happy.

My life had been full of disappointment. I didn’t want more. If I had to find happiness in my dreams, how did that hurt anything? It was my life. It didn’t affect anyone else.

The ringing of my doorbell interrupted me, and I sighed, hating that the real world was about to enter my life and the night was truly gone now. I had to live in reality. I set my Greek yogurt down and hopped off the bar to answer the door.

It was ten in the morning. No one should be up and visiting me at ten in the morning. Didn’t they know I slept late?

I jerked the door open without checking to see who it was first, because honestly, this was Rosemary Beach, and we were safe here. Except from annoying guys like Major who were determined not to go the hell away.

“It’s early,” I said to him, unable to hide my annoyance. Had he not felt the lack of chemistry between us last night? We were as boring and uninteresting as whole-wheat toast.

“It’s time for your run. Want company?” He grinned, and I didn’t even think it was pretty anymore. I’d been ruined.

“Uh, well, I guess,” I replied, not knowing if I should just be a rude ass and tell him no or give him one last run and hope he got it that we were over.