The Matchmaker's Playbook by Rachel Van Dyken
Because for the most part, the girls I was around didn’t really do that often—you know, think about anything past having sex. There were no feelings involved, no sharing, just mutual pleasure. Up until now, I’d thought myself lucky to find women who only wanted to get off. Now? It felt like I’d been missing something. Something important.
“Eat.” Blake winked and pulled out a chicken salad and started diving into it like she hadn’t eaten in weeks.
Again, Lex and I paused.
Me because I was absolutely fascinated to see a woman other than Gabi eat food and not talk about dieting.
Lex because his biggest turn-on was Carl’s Jr. commercials. It was his porn. Go figure.
I was never letting Blake eat burgers in front of him. Ever.
Not even the cheap ninety-nine-cent kind from McDonald’s.
“Um . . .” I coughed into my hand when she glanced up and looked at us. “You have chicken just . . . right . . . there.” I pointed to the side of her mouth.
Blushing, she wiped her mouth and shook her head. “Sorry. I’m always starving after practice. And I didn’t have time to pack any protein bars, because I was too busy playing nurse all night.”
“Without the nurse outfit,” I complained.
“You still have that?” Lex asked.
“You guys are . . .” Blake stood. “Well, let’s just say it makes total sense, what you do.”
“What?” I ate more soup now that it was cooling off. “We save women from themselves. And more importantly, we help them get the men of their dreams. If that’s so wrong, I don’t wanna be right.” I winked, and Lex held up his hand for a high five.
Blake moved back around the breakfast bar and pressed a palm to my forehead.
“Ouch.” I nearly fell back out of my chair. “Kinda rough, Blake.”
“Last night you said you liked it rough. Just following orders.”
“I did?”
“Yup.” She removed her hand. Despite the glint in her eyes, I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. “Right before you told me to lick your ears.”
“Erogenous zone,” I offered with a smirk. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”
“Your fever’s gone.”
“Good.” I stood and moved to grab my computer.
“Whoa, what are you doing?” Blake jerked the computer from my hands.
“Uh . . . working? I have a near-perfect GPA, and I need to keep it that way. I need to e-mail my profs, make sure we don’t have any new clients that need interviewing, and—”
“Nope.” She held the computer against her chest. “You’re weak from the fever. Today you need to just chill. Then tomorrow you can work.”
“I’m your love coach. If I chill, that means you aren’t getting your man.”
She chewed her lower lip and frowned. “I’ve waited this long. What’s one more day?”
Sighing, I reached for my computer.
She pulled away.
“Blake.”
“Ian.”
I looked to Lex for help, but he’d already left the room.
“Fine.” I sighed. “I’ll just sit here and watch TV for the rest of the afternoon and evening, then go to bed at six.”
“You’re lying, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely.”
“Fine.” Blake kept her death grip on the computer and made her way over to the couch. “So what are we watching?”
“You can’t stay,” I blurted.
“Why not?”
“Because!” I had work to do. I wasn’t kidding about the homework or the need I had to make sure everything was on schedule. The sooner I got rid of her as a client and into David’s stupid arms, the sooner she’d realize what a tool he was and come running back.
Right? All I knew was I wanted our time to be finished, so that it would actually be fair for me to join the game rather than watch from the freaking sidelines.
“We’re friends,” she announced.
I almost threw up. “What did you just say?”
“Friends.”
That’s what I thought. The f-bomb.
“I have two. Don’t need another. You know, the whole third-wheel thing.” I shrugged. “Now, if you want an upgrade, I can easily arrange more. Think of it as friends”—I held up one hand, then held up the other—“but you get benefits, like you’d get with a real job.”
“You mean friends with benefits.”
“Hey, you said it, not me.”
“Ian.”
“Yes?”
“Sit down, shut up, and try not to get delirious again.”
Exhaling with frustration, I moved to the farthest end of the couch from her and sat. Not because I wasn’t intoxicated by her presence, but because I was suddenly realizing that I had no self-control where she was concerned, and I didn’t want her to realize how much she affected me.
How much I wanted to taste her again and again.
And how much I resented the fact that she would never want me in the same way.
For the first time in my life, I wanted a girl that wasn’t mine to have.
And it sucked.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Ian?” Blake said. Somehow she’d managed to make her way from her end of the couch over to mine. Our leather couch was nice; one end of it had the longer side without cushions or whatever the hell you called it, so a person could lie back with their feet up and watch the movie.
“What up, sweet cheeks?” I yawned and wrapped an arm around her, then froze. Shit, it was too natural.
She cuddled into me.
My entire body seized with pleasure as she placed a hand on my chest and let out a heavy sigh.
“Out with it,” I said. “And know the only reason I’m not pausing Game of Thrones is because I’ve seen this episode a thousand times. Otherwise, I’d duct-tape your mouth. You’ve been warned.”
“Wow.” She exhaled loudly. “Thanks.”
“So . . .” I ran my fingers up and down her arm. It was instinctual; I couldn’t keep my hands to myself and didn’t want to. She was wearing a loose pink racerback tank top and a pair of spandex shorts that showed off a good chunk of her curvy ass and nice legs. “What’s on your mind?”
“Do you ever . . . ?” She tensed a bit then, as if telling herself to relax, and leaned into me. “Do you ever think that what you thought you wanted isn’t actually what you want anymore?”
“You mean . . . like you’ve lived your whole life in pursuit of one goal, and suddenly the goal changes?”
She jerked away from me and stared at me directly in the eyes. “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”
I sat up a bit. “Blake, that’s life.”
“But”—she ran her hands through her hair and retied it back into a low ponytail—“it just seems too wishy-washy, to go from one thing to another.”
“That’s part of what college is for.” I frowned. “Discovering yourself . . . Realizing that, hey, maybe wearing Adidas flip-flops from 1992 isn’t as cool as I originally thought.” I smiled.
Blake burst out laughing. “They aren’t mine, you jerk.”
“So you stole a stranger’s ugly flip-flops and decided, Hey, let’s bring these suckers back.”
She scrunched up her nose. It was freaking adorable. “Not really. They used to be my brother’s, and . . . after he died, I don’t know . . . I just . . . wanted to be close to him.”
“So you raided his closet?”
“Everything smelled like him.” She glanced away, her face distant. “It was comforting.”
“Until you had to wash them.”
She burst out laughing again. “Until my dad forced me to wash them, yes. It’s only been two years. I still miss him.”
“How’d he die?”
“Car accident.” She ducked back under my arm. “Drunk driver. The usual. Used to piss me off talking about it, but when I started wearing his clothes, it almost felt like this invisible armor.”
“I hate to break it t
o you, sweet cheeks, but those shoes are anything but invisible.”
A pillow flew at my face.
“Hey,” I yelled as she tried to get up and escape from me. “Oh no you don’t.” I grabbed her by the waist and tossed her back onto the couch, then hovered over her.
“Stop!” She flailed underneath me, laughing her ass off. “You can’t make me stay!”
I quickly leaned down and licked her cheek. “Sorry to break it to you, but if you lick it, it’s yours.”
Her laughter faded.
“Is that so?”
I nodded seriously. “First rule of kindergarten. Didn’t you listen in class?”
“Must have missed that lesson.”
I nodded. “It’s right up there with fire safety.”
She gripped my head with both of her hands and pulled. Our foreheads nearly touched. Breathing suddenly became extremely difficult as her eyes stared down my lips. And then very slowly, she turned my head and licked up my cheek.
Every single part of my body felt that lick.
And wanted to feel it a second time.
I closed my eyes and shuddered. “Thought I told you not to play a player?”
“Just following your rules.”
“Sometimes”—I cupped her cheek with my hand—“I really hate my rules.”
She swallowed. “Me too.”
I wasn’t sure who did it first, me or her, but suddenly we were kissing, or more importantly, I was straddling her, and kissing the shit out of her while she hooked her legs around my body and jerked me against her.
It was heaven.
It was hell.
Moaning, we both tumbled to the floor, her on top, then me, then her, then me.
She didn’t kiss like she was innocent. She kissed like her mouth was starving for mine. And kissing her back was like finally finding the one girl I wanted to kiss, possibly even more than screw.
Because her lips felt so damn good that releasing them to take off her clothes would have been a crime.
Our tongues tangled as she ran her hands through my hair. I moved to her bra, and she kicked off her flip-flops, nearly hitting me in the head.
“Easy, tiger,” I mumbled against her mouth.
She laughed, then kissed me harder, our teeth nearly knocking together as I deepened the kiss. Doubt became a fire alarm clamoring in my head, but I ruthlessly hammered it away, desperate for more of Blake. Her lips moved beneath mine—hot, wet, welcoming, and so demanding that she was nearly sending me over the edge.
The front door closed.
We stopped kissing.
But we didn’t pull apart.
I knew there wouldn’t be time.
“Whoa.” Lex surveyed the situation. “Either he drugged you, or—”
“Training,” I blurted, sharing a look with Blake. “We’re setting up a date night for her and David. He’s moving through the stages so fast I imagine he’ll try something during the movie.”
Blake’s body went rigid, and she averted her eyes from mine, then gave Lex a forced smile. “I think I got it.”
With a shove, she had me on my ass and was grabbing her phone and purse.
“Thanks, Ian.”
“Blake—”
“Really.” She turned, and her smile was so fake it hurt to see. “I, uh, I’ll text you tomorrow about the details for the date.”
Shit. I wasn’t going to actually allow the date!
The door slammed.
I flinched.
Lex let out a low whistle, then patted me on the back. “Good job, dude. Why not just be honest? For once.”
“She’s a client.” I was convincing no one with that convictionless statement.
“She’s more.”
“She’s . . .” I punched the pillow, then threw it hard against the couch. “She’s my client. If David’s what she wants, I’ll help her. She deserves at least that much.”
“What if he isn’t what she wants?” Lex asked quietly. “What will you do?”
“I . . .”
“That’s what I thought.” He walked over to the light switch and flicked it off. “See you on the other side.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The next few days flew by. Blake answered my texts politely, and the kiss was never mentioned.
I knew I’d hurt her. When I closed my eyes, I still saw the look of disbelief on her face, which had quickly turned into anger as she hung her head and walked out of the house.
And that was why women weren’t allowed in the house.
Why I had rules, damn it!
I stared at the couch. Like it was going to suddenly give me a replay of what had happened a few nights ago.
Her mouth had tasted so sweet, so luscious. Just thinking about it was making my dick strain against my jeans. My physical reaction was alarming enough without adding in the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about her, wondering if she was okay, and wanting to talk to her.
Just talk.
About nothing. I just needed to hear her voice.
Shit.
Lex waltzed into the room, took one look at me pouring myself a glass of orange juice, and smirked. “Oranges do it for you now?” he said. “Should I hide those orange-blossom candles in the living room, or is this just a stage?”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not the juice. Or the oranges.” I sighed. “It’s the couch.”
“Uh.” A perplexed look crossed Lex’s features. “The couch?”
I nodded.
“So your new dirty words are big cushions? High thread count? Soft leather? Ikea?”
“Shut it.” I covered my face with my hands and let out a few curses. “What the hell is wrong with me?”
“Dude, if a couch gave you an erection, you tell me.”
“It’s because of what happened on the couch.”
“Ohh.” Lex nodded and swiped his keys from the table. “You mean the practice kiss that really wasn’t practice at all but you breaking your own rules, and had I come in, oh, I don’t know, say a half hour later, said couch would be soiled with all the sex you’re currently not having.”
“Why are we friends?”
“See ya.” Lex saluted me with his middle finger. “And not that I’m a relationship expert, since I’d rather bang ’em than lose ’em, but maybe you should talk to her.” He nodded slowly. “Use your words.”
“Bite me.”
His laugh had me wanting to key his car.
Or maybe drive it into Puget Sound.
Fine. I could use my words. I could fix this. I would fix this.
I checked my watch. I had two hours before class, and Blake didn’t have any morning classes.
“Words,” I mumbled, reaching for my phone. “Use my words.”
“This isn’t coming out right,” I blurted as Blake lifted a couch cushion high into the air, aiming for my face, and then, as if thinking twice about it, lowering it toward my groin.
I’d been at her house a total of five seconds before World War III broke out.
“You think?” she said, seething.
“I’m trying to make things better!”
“Is that what you’re doing?” she screeched. “You apologized for kissing me, then kissed me again.”
“About that.” I winced. “I got caught up in the moment.” Actually, she looked so damn pretty that I’d forgotten all about my huge speech. I’d just apologized for last weekend, then, two seconds later, fused my mouth against hers.
She kissed me back.
For around four seconds.
And then she shoved me back so hard that my coffee spilled and ran down my chest, probably leaving a burn trail all the way to my dick.
Wrong day to freeball it. That was for sure.
“Ian.” Why did my name have to sound so good coming from those swollen lips? Probably because God was punishing me. The one girl I craved and she was ready to suffocate me. Great. “You’re not that guy, the relationship one. That’s what I want. Not fleeting kisses.
Because”—she swallowed—“well, because it confuses me. And that’s not fair.”
I sighed, hanging my head. “I know, Blake. I’m sorry. I got carried away. You know the song ‘Blurred Lines’?”
“Not helping your case.”
“Sorry.” I managed a weak smile. “Again.” But what I really wanted to say? Let me take you out on a date. Give me a chance. I could change.
But I knew better than anyone.
Guys didn’t just change. I mean, I’d never tried, but the thing about Blake? She was sweet, innocent, and what if I ruined her? What if I told her I wanted to commit, jumped in with both feet, only to cheat on her?
“I swear”—I gulped, hating every word I was saying—“I’ll help you with David. And then . . . I’m hoping we can still be friends.”
Her face fell. “Friends.”
“Funny how words that are supposed to make people happy kind of make you want to punch a tree like Chuck Norris.”
Blake burst out laughing. “Yeah, well . . .”
It wasn’t awkward. If I had to describe the moment—me still dripping-wet with coffee, Blake holding a pillow to keep my mouth from assaulting hers—I’d say it was sad.
That’s what I felt.
Sad.
Because I liked her.
Clearing my throat, I held out my hand. “Friends?”
She dropped the pillow, took a few steps, closing the distance between us, and shook my hand. “Friends.”
“Good.” I dropped her hand, flexed my fingers, gave myself an internal pep talk where her boobs weren’t the main attraction, and stared her down. “Then let’s get to work.”
“Didn’t you say you had class?”
“Skipping. We’re going to basically bump into David all day long, and make him want to kill himself. You up for that?”
She nodded, but it wasn’t an excited nod—more like she didn’t know what else to do.
“You still want David, right?”
Dear God, please say no.
After a few seconds of hesitation, Blake answered. “David’s . . . a good guy. He’s the guy you marry, you know? The guy you take home. He’s always been there for my family, and he’s—”
“Safe,” I finished for her, hating the word almost as much as I hated the word “friends.”
Blake made a face. “Do you think that’s wrong?”
“Eat.” Blake winked and pulled out a chicken salad and started diving into it like she hadn’t eaten in weeks.
Again, Lex and I paused.
Me because I was absolutely fascinated to see a woman other than Gabi eat food and not talk about dieting.
Lex because his biggest turn-on was Carl’s Jr. commercials. It was his porn. Go figure.
I was never letting Blake eat burgers in front of him. Ever.
Not even the cheap ninety-nine-cent kind from McDonald’s.
“Um . . .” I coughed into my hand when she glanced up and looked at us. “You have chicken just . . . right . . . there.” I pointed to the side of her mouth.
Blushing, she wiped her mouth and shook her head. “Sorry. I’m always starving after practice. And I didn’t have time to pack any protein bars, because I was too busy playing nurse all night.”
“Without the nurse outfit,” I complained.
“You still have that?” Lex asked.
“You guys are . . .” Blake stood. “Well, let’s just say it makes total sense, what you do.”
“What?” I ate more soup now that it was cooling off. “We save women from themselves. And more importantly, we help them get the men of their dreams. If that’s so wrong, I don’t wanna be right.” I winked, and Lex held up his hand for a high five.
Blake moved back around the breakfast bar and pressed a palm to my forehead.
“Ouch.” I nearly fell back out of my chair. “Kinda rough, Blake.”
“Last night you said you liked it rough. Just following orders.”
“I did?”
“Yup.” She removed her hand. Despite the glint in her eyes, I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. “Right before you told me to lick your ears.”
“Erogenous zone,” I offered with a smirk. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”
“Your fever’s gone.”
“Good.” I stood and moved to grab my computer.
“Whoa, what are you doing?” Blake jerked the computer from my hands.
“Uh . . . working? I have a near-perfect GPA, and I need to keep it that way. I need to e-mail my profs, make sure we don’t have any new clients that need interviewing, and—”
“Nope.” She held the computer against her chest. “You’re weak from the fever. Today you need to just chill. Then tomorrow you can work.”
“I’m your love coach. If I chill, that means you aren’t getting your man.”
She chewed her lower lip and frowned. “I’ve waited this long. What’s one more day?”
Sighing, I reached for my computer.
She pulled away.
“Blake.”
“Ian.”
I looked to Lex for help, but he’d already left the room.
“Fine.” I sighed. “I’ll just sit here and watch TV for the rest of the afternoon and evening, then go to bed at six.”
“You’re lying, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely.”
“Fine.” Blake kept her death grip on the computer and made her way over to the couch. “So what are we watching?”
“You can’t stay,” I blurted.
“Why not?”
“Because!” I had work to do. I wasn’t kidding about the homework or the need I had to make sure everything was on schedule. The sooner I got rid of her as a client and into David’s stupid arms, the sooner she’d realize what a tool he was and come running back.
Right? All I knew was I wanted our time to be finished, so that it would actually be fair for me to join the game rather than watch from the freaking sidelines.
“We’re friends,” she announced.
I almost threw up. “What did you just say?”
“Friends.”
That’s what I thought. The f-bomb.
“I have two. Don’t need another. You know, the whole third-wheel thing.” I shrugged. “Now, if you want an upgrade, I can easily arrange more. Think of it as friends”—I held up one hand, then held up the other—“but you get benefits, like you’d get with a real job.”
“You mean friends with benefits.”
“Hey, you said it, not me.”
“Ian.”
“Yes?”
“Sit down, shut up, and try not to get delirious again.”
Exhaling with frustration, I moved to the farthest end of the couch from her and sat. Not because I wasn’t intoxicated by her presence, but because I was suddenly realizing that I had no self-control where she was concerned, and I didn’t want her to realize how much she affected me.
How much I wanted to taste her again and again.
And how much I resented the fact that she would never want me in the same way.
For the first time in my life, I wanted a girl that wasn’t mine to have.
And it sucked.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Ian?” Blake said. Somehow she’d managed to make her way from her end of the couch over to mine. Our leather couch was nice; one end of it had the longer side without cushions or whatever the hell you called it, so a person could lie back with their feet up and watch the movie.
“What up, sweet cheeks?” I yawned and wrapped an arm around her, then froze. Shit, it was too natural.
She cuddled into me.
My entire body seized with pleasure as she placed a hand on my chest and let out a heavy sigh.
“Out with it,” I said. “And know the only reason I’m not pausing Game of Thrones is because I’ve seen this episode a thousand times. Otherwise, I’d duct-tape your mouth. You’ve been warned.”
“Wow.” She exhaled loudly. “Thanks.”
“So . . .” I ran my fingers up and down her arm. It was instinctual; I couldn’t keep my hands to myself and didn’t want to. She was wearing a loose pink racerback tank top and a pair of spandex shorts that showed off a good chunk of her curvy ass and nice legs. “What’s on your mind?”
“Do you ever . . . ?” She tensed a bit then, as if telling herself to relax, and leaned into me. “Do you ever think that what you thought you wanted isn’t actually what you want anymore?”
“You mean . . . like you’ve lived your whole life in pursuit of one goal, and suddenly the goal changes?”
She jerked away from me and stared at me directly in the eyes. “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”
I sat up a bit. “Blake, that’s life.”
“But”—she ran her hands through her hair and retied it back into a low ponytail—“it just seems too wishy-washy, to go from one thing to another.”
“That’s part of what college is for.” I frowned. “Discovering yourself . . . Realizing that, hey, maybe wearing Adidas flip-flops from 1992 isn’t as cool as I originally thought.” I smiled.
Blake burst out laughing. “They aren’t mine, you jerk.”
“So you stole a stranger’s ugly flip-flops and decided, Hey, let’s bring these suckers back.”
She scrunched up her nose. It was freaking adorable. “Not really. They used to be my brother’s, and . . . after he died, I don’t know . . . I just . . . wanted to be close to him.”
“So you raided his closet?”
“Everything smelled like him.” She glanced away, her face distant. “It was comforting.”
“Until you had to wash them.”
She burst out laughing again. “Until my dad forced me to wash them, yes. It’s only been two years. I still miss him.”
“How’d he die?”
“Car accident.” She ducked back under my arm. “Drunk driver. The usual. Used to piss me off talking about it, but when I started wearing his clothes, it almost felt like this invisible armor.”
“I hate to break it t
A pillow flew at my face.
“Hey,” I yelled as she tried to get up and escape from me. “Oh no you don’t.” I grabbed her by the waist and tossed her back onto the couch, then hovered over her.
“Stop!” She flailed underneath me, laughing her ass off. “You can’t make me stay!”
I quickly leaned down and licked her cheek. “Sorry to break it to you, but if you lick it, it’s yours.”
Her laughter faded.
“Is that so?”
I nodded seriously. “First rule of kindergarten. Didn’t you listen in class?”
“Must have missed that lesson.”
I nodded. “It’s right up there with fire safety.”
She gripped my head with both of her hands and pulled. Our foreheads nearly touched. Breathing suddenly became extremely difficult as her eyes stared down my lips. And then very slowly, she turned my head and licked up my cheek.
Every single part of my body felt that lick.
And wanted to feel it a second time.
I closed my eyes and shuddered. “Thought I told you not to play a player?”
“Just following your rules.”
“Sometimes”—I cupped her cheek with my hand—“I really hate my rules.”
She swallowed. “Me too.”
I wasn’t sure who did it first, me or her, but suddenly we were kissing, or more importantly, I was straddling her, and kissing the shit out of her while she hooked her legs around my body and jerked me against her.
It was heaven.
It was hell.
Moaning, we both tumbled to the floor, her on top, then me, then her, then me.
She didn’t kiss like she was innocent. She kissed like her mouth was starving for mine. And kissing her back was like finally finding the one girl I wanted to kiss, possibly even more than screw.
Because her lips felt so damn good that releasing them to take off her clothes would have been a crime.
Our tongues tangled as she ran her hands through my hair. I moved to her bra, and she kicked off her flip-flops, nearly hitting me in the head.
“Easy, tiger,” I mumbled against her mouth.
She laughed, then kissed me harder, our teeth nearly knocking together as I deepened the kiss. Doubt became a fire alarm clamoring in my head, but I ruthlessly hammered it away, desperate for more of Blake. Her lips moved beneath mine—hot, wet, welcoming, and so demanding that she was nearly sending me over the edge.
The front door closed.
We stopped kissing.
But we didn’t pull apart.
I knew there wouldn’t be time.
“Whoa.” Lex surveyed the situation. “Either he drugged you, or—”
“Training,” I blurted, sharing a look with Blake. “We’re setting up a date night for her and David. He’s moving through the stages so fast I imagine he’ll try something during the movie.”
Blake’s body went rigid, and she averted her eyes from mine, then gave Lex a forced smile. “I think I got it.”
With a shove, she had me on my ass and was grabbing her phone and purse.
“Thanks, Ian.”
“Blake—”
“Really.” She turned, and her smile was so fake it hurt to see. “I, uh, I’ll text you tomorrow about the details for the date.”
Shit. I wasn’t going to actually allow the date!
The door slammed.
I flinched.
Lex let out a low whistle, then patted me on the back. “Good job, dude. Why not just be honest? For once.”
“She’s a client.” I was convincing no one with that convictionless statement.
“She’s more.”
“She’s . . .” I punched the pillow, then threw it hard against the couch. “She’s my client. If David’s what she wants, I’ll help her. She deserves at least that much.”
“What if he isn’t what she wants?” Lex asked quietly. “What will you do?”
“I . . .”
“That’s what I thought.” He walked over to the light switch and flicked it off. “See you on the other side.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The next few days flew by. Blake answered my texts politely, and the kiss was never mentioned.
I knew I’d hurt her. When I closed my eyes, I still saw the look of disbelief on her face, which had quickly turned into anger as she hung her head and walked out of the house.
And that was why women weren’t allowed in the house.
Why I had rules, damn it!
I stared at the couch. Like it was going to suddenly give me a replay of what had happened a few nights ago.
Her mouth had tasted so sweet, so luscious. Just thinking about it was making my dick strain against my jeans. My physical reaction was alarming enough without adding in the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about her, wondering if she was okay, and wanting to talk to her.
Just talk.
About nothing. I just needed to hear her voice.
Shit.
Lex waltzed into the room, took one look at me pouring myself a glass of orange juice, and smirked. “Oranges do it for you now?” he said. “Should I hide those orange-blossom candles in the living room, or is this just a stage?”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not the juice. Or the oranges.” I sighed. “It’s the couch.”
“Uh.” A perplexed look crossed Lex’s features. “The couch?”
I nodded.
“So your new dirty words are big cushions? High thread count? Soft leather? Ikea?”
“Shut it.” I covered my face with my hands and let out a few curses. “What the hell is wrong with me?”
“Dude, if a couch gave you an erection, you tell me.”
“It’s because of what happened on the couch.”
“Ohh.” Lex nodded and swiped his keys from the table. “You mean the practice kiss that really wasn’t practice at all but you breaking your own rules, and had I come in, oh, I don’t know, say a half hour later, said couch would be soiled with all the sex you’re currently not having.”
“Why are we friends?”
“See ya.” Lex saluted me with his middle finger. “And not that I’m a relationship expert, since I’d rather bang ’em than lose ’em, but maybe you should talk to her.” He nodded slowly. “Use your words.”
“Bite me.”
His laugh had me wanting to key his car.
Or maybe drive it into Puget Sound.
Fine. I could use my words. I could fix this. I would fix this.
I checked my watch. I had two hours before class, and Blake didn’t have any morning classes.
“Words,” I mumbled, reaching for my phone. “Use my words.”
“This isn’t coming out right,” I blurted as Blake lifted a couch cushion high into the air, aiming for my face, and then, as if thinking twice about it, lowering it toward my groin.
I’d been at her house a total of five seconds before World War III broke out.
“You think?” she said, seething.
“I’m trying to make things better!”
“Is that what you’re doing?” she screeched. “You apologized for kissing me, then kissed me again.”
“About that.” I winced. “I got caught up in the moment.” Actually, she looked so damn pretty that I’d forgotten all about my huge speech. I’d just apologized for last weekend, then, two seconds later, fused my mouth against hers.
She kissed me back.
For around four seconds.
And then she shoved me back so hard that my coffee spilled and ran down my chest, probably leaving a burn trail all the way to my dick.
Wrong day to freeball it. That was for sure.
“Ian.” Why did my name have to sound so good coming from those swollen lips? Probably because God was punishing me. The one girl I craved and she was ready to suffocate me. Great. “You’re not that guy, the relationship one. That’s what I want. Not fleeting kisses.
I sighed, hanging my head. “I know, Blake. I’m sorry. I got carried away. You know the song ‘Blurred Lines’?”
“Not helping your case.”
“Sorry.” I managed a weak smile. “Again.” But what I really wanted to say? Let me take you out on a date. Give me a chance. I could change.
But I knew better than anyone.
Guys didn’t just change. I mean, I’d never tried, but the thing about Blake? She was sweet, innocent, and what if I ruined her? What if I told her I wanted to commit, jumped in with both feet, only to cheat on her?
“I swear”—I gulped, hating every word I was saying—“I’ll help you with David. And then . . . I’m hoping we can still be friends.”
Her face fell. “Friends.”
“Funny how words that are supposed to make people happy kind of make you want to punch a tree like Chuck Norris.”
Blake burst out laughing. “Yeah, well . . .”
It wasn’t awkward. If I had to describe the moment—me still dripping-wet with coffee, Blake holding a pillow to keep my mouth from assaulting hers—I’d say it was sad.
That’s what I felt.
Sad.
Because I liked her.
Clearing my throat, I held out my hand. “Friends?”
She dropped the pillow, took a few steps, closing the distance between us, and shook my hand. “Friends.”
“Good.” I dropped her hand, flexed my fingers, gave myself an internal pep talk where her boobs weren’t the main attraction, and stared her down. “Then let’s get to work.”
“Didn’t you say you had class?”
“Skipping. We’re going to basically bump into David all day long, and make him want to kill himself. You up for that?”
She nodded, but it wasn’t an excited nod—more like she didn’t know what else to do.
“You still want David, right?”
Dear God, please say no.
After a few seconds of hesitation, Blake answered. “David’s . . . a good guy. He’s the guy you marry, you know? The guy you take home. He’s always been there for my family, and he’s—”
“Safe,” I finished for her, hating the word almost as much as I hated the word “friends.”
Blake made a face. “Do you think that’s wrong?”