The Lucky in Love Collection Page 7

  Besides, there’s nothing to share. This is only a little exercise between pals. “Just because we hang out doesn't mean we’re going to do anything more. A man and a woman can be friends, thank you very much.”

  Vanessa sets her glass on the bar. “You might see it that way, but he’s always looking at you like he wants you.”

  I startle at her comment, my skin buzzing, betraying my brain. But I keep my focus tight. There is no room for a Gabe attraction in my life. None at all. “You’re crazy. He doesn’t look at me like that.”

  “You’re crazy, because yes, he does.”

  I shake my head, wishing the idea didn’t delight some part of me. “We’re friends. It’s not like that.”

  “That’s why your cheeks are all red and flushed.”

  I raise a hand to touch my cheek. Maybe it’s a little warm in here. “I can be friends with a good-looking man and not jump his bones.”

  “If you insist.” She nods toward the other side of the bar. “I need to go check on the patrons.”

  “Do you mind if I pop into your back room?” I ask. “I need to have a private conversation with someone.”

  She arches a curious brow. “And who would that be?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I say, trying to be light.

  Vanessa crosses her arms. “No. You can’t borrow my back room.”

  “Oh, c’mon. Why not?”

  “Because friends don’t keep secrets about who they’re hosting private meetings with in other friends’ back rooms.”

  “Fine.” I sigh. “It’s Gabe. Okay?”

  She smirks, giving me the most knowing smile she’s ever given me. “Are you going to plant hot fireman seeds with him?”

  I decide to deflect with wordplay. “If anyone would be planting seeds, I’d think it’d be him.”

  Her jaw drops.

  “But the answer is no. I just need to talk to him about something. I’ll update you later.”

  She shoots me a sharp stare. “You better. Use of my back room includes giving me a detailed briefing.”

  “I promise.”

  “Then my back room is your back room.”

  13

  Arden

  I finish my go-out-on-a-limb Riesling, and when Gabe is done with his frame, he strides over and parks himself on the stool next to mine. My stomach flip-flops, and my palms are clammy. I need to make my request soon, otherwise it’ll nag at me all night.

  “Hey, East. What’s cooking? Did you save a game for me?”

  “Always.” But I don’t want to play a game right now. I want to make my pitch, and I don’t want to wait another second. I’ve been saying the words in my head all day. “But first, do you have a second to chat privately?”

  Worry creases his brow. “Sure. Everything okay?”

  “Absolutely.” I smile, keeping the mood light and easy, or so I hope.

  We head to the back room, where filing cabinets line the walls next to a desk stacked with papers. Across from us is a green leather couch. I don’t sit. I don’t want to delay. I swallow, steeling myself as I find my courage and screw it to the sticking point. Like the ladies in the book club. Ask for what you want.

  I reach into my bag, take out a book, and show it to him. Though I read several the other night, this one is the closest to what I want.

  Fifty Ways to Spice Up Your Love Life.

  “Is this for me?” His expression is curious, lips quirked up in a question.

  My throat is dry. I shake my head. “It’s for me.”

  Confusion flickers across his blue eyes. “Okayyyyy.”

  I grip the book hard. “I have this idea that I want to try some spices.”

  “Are you seeing someone you want to get spicy with?” It sounds like the words taste like bitter paprika to him.

  “No.” This is harder than I thought. Because of what Vanessa said. Because Gabe is so handsome, so kind, so easy that a part of me keeps thinking how much I want to try all these things with him. To feel what might come next after the little shivers up my spine.

  Only that’s not what I’m asking.

  I don’t want a typical hands-on lesson in seduction. Please. That’d ruin our friendship, and our friendship means the world to me. I simply won’t risk it.

  But we don’t need to get naked for me to learn. You don’t practice CPR on a real person. You do it on a dummy. We don’t need to walk the walk.

  He can spank me with my jeans on.

  He can pull my hair on my front porch.

  He can bite my neck without it leading to anything more than information.

  Intel.

  That way we stay friends.

  Besides, he’s not playing the same long game I am. He’s a short-term guy, and I respect that, but I’m a long-term kind of woman.

  I dig down deep. “I’d like to ask for your help.” Taking a breath, I pause before I lay it all on the line. “I’m not terribly experienced in the bedroom, but I’m incredibly curious, and I’d really like to know if being tied up, taken over the back of the sofa, stopping for an impromptu hookup while out for a drive, making out in an elevator, or having my hair pulled so hard I see stars is my cup of tea. How would you feel about doing some research with me? Say, over the next week?”

  14

  Gabe

  Come again?

  Did she say what I think she said?

  As in, the answer to all my prayers?

  I have half a mind to punch the sky and do a victory strut.

  But one, I’m not an asshole.

  Two, I’m not simply trying to get in her pants. I want to get under her skin, like she’s under mine.

  But pants . . . pants are a good start.

  And it’s getting tight in mine.

  I scratch my jaw. Part my lips. Try to speak. But my throat is dry. “What?” It’s all I can manage to say, and it comes out like a scratch.

  “Sorry,” she says, backpedaling, sounding as contrite as she did the day I found her by the lake. “Did I offend you?”

  Please, offend me more. Offend me so much you ask me to take you home right now.

  “You’re going to have to try a lot harder to offend me.” I eye the couch. “Why don’t we sit down?”

  That way maybe it won’t be so obvious how much I like her plan. How much this is like a fevered, dirty dream, one I don’t want to wake up from.

  She sits, crossing one bare leg over the other, her polka-dot skirt riding higher to reveal more flesh. I nearly groan out loud—I’ll be able to get my hands on those legs soon. Run my palms up her thighs. Spread her open. Touch her where she wants it most. Taste her. Dear God, the prospect of kissing her all over is frying my brain.

  Maybe it’ll happen tonight? If she wants to conduct this sex symposium over the next week, we’d better get started stat.

  Yes, the situation south of the border is indeed escalating.

  I keep my eyes fixed on her face. “You want to do a little research in the bedroom?”

  She nods, clasping her hands in her lap. “Yes, but I promise it’ll be easy. Very manageable.”

  Yeah, having her naked is something I can absolutely manage easily.

  “Whatever you have in mind works for me.” I take my time, lift my chin, cautious of seeming too keen. “But why do you want to do research?”

  “Good question. The answer is that I’ve only ever had three serious boyfriends, and to be completely frank, none of them were terribly adventuresome.”

  “That’s not going to be a problem with me,” I say quickly. Maybe too quickly. But holy fuck. This is like a pot of gold falling into my fucking lap. Maybe I have a leprechaun looking over me.

  True, I planned to ask her on a date. To give us a go. But I can work with this brand-new twist. It’s a different route, but I bet this path can take us to the same destination.

  And hell, will it ever make the drive so much fucking fun.

  She breathes deeply, like she’s been waiting for a long time to e
xhale. “Good. I’m glad you don’t mind a little light practice.”

  Light? I was thinking more like hot and heavy, but if that’s the term Arden wants to use, who am I to quibble? “I don’t mind at all. Not one bit.”

  She smiles and leans back against the cushions. “God, I was so nervous.” She runs her hand through her pretty hair, and I follow her every move, thinking I’ll be getting my hands on that hair. She did mention hair-pulling, after all. Fortunately, that’s one of my favorite things to do. And Arden’s hair, all those lush blonde locks, is prime for yanking, tugging, and wrapping around my fist.

  “You don’t have to be nervous. I’m glad you asked me. Better me than anyone else.”

  She drops her hand to my leg, squeezing my thigh, sending a bolt of lust to every corner of my body. “Please. As if I would go to some other guy.”

  “Damn straight. I’m your man.” I tap my chest. “Now, let’s go back to that list. If memory serves, you want to know if you like being taken over the back of the couch, screwing in a pickup truck, making out in an elevator, and having your hair pulled so hard you see stars. Did I get that right?”

  Just saying all that out loud sets my skin on fire. Is it my lucky day or what?

  Twin spots of pink spread wider across her pretty cheeks as she nods. “I’d say you have that down pat. I thought we could probably tackle everything in a week, and maybe a little taste of each one would give me a better idea.”

  “Tasting is always a good idea,” I say, and my voice goes a little raspier, a little huskier.

  Obviously.

  Because hell. The prospect of getting my lips all over her is making my mouth water. I could spend all night tasting her everywhere. Exploring her body with my mouth. Yes, this is definitely my lucky day.

  “I wrote a list, so there are more items, but that’s the general idea. To sample each one.”

  Damn, do I ever want to see that list. Reading it will be like finding buried treasure, opening a chest full of glittering rubies, sapphires, and diamonds. Her pleasure will be a thousand priceless gems.

  “Like when you get a taste at an ice cream parlor,” I say. And a taste leads to a cone. Or a sundae. With a cherry on top, pretty please.

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m thinking.” She holds up her thumb and forefinger to show a sliver. “Just a little taste is all I need for my research project.”

  “And when would you like this research to start? Since you have some kind of time limit, I’m assuming ASAP?”

  Please say now, please say right fucking now.

  She smiles a little impishly, like she’s up to something naughty, and, hell, is she ever. She has some very naughty secrets up her sleeve. “Tonight?”

  There is a God.

  There is a very good God.

  “That’s one of my favorite words.” I clear my throat, grabbing hold of the tiny bit of logic still circling in my brain. “I assume we should establish some ground rules.”

  She nods vigorously. “Oh, definitely. Like I’ve said, we can pretty much devote a week to it. Anything longer becomes messy, but I honestly think we can accomplish everything in that time. And beyond that, when the seven days end, I think we also agree to stay friends.”

  “I can’t imagine us not being friends.” It’s true, but I’m wondering about other ground rules, like her place or mine, and do we need safe words, but sure—the maintenance of the friendship is key too.

  “Whew. Me too. That’s the most important thing to me. I want you in my life, Gabe.”

  “I want you in mine.” That feels like the truest thing I’ve voiced all night, and it’s freeing, so damn freeing, to admit it, even if it’s in this veiled context.

  “And another would be if at any point something I ask you to try bothers you—”

  I laugh harshly. That might be the most ridiculous thing she’s ever said. Anyone’s ever said. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

  “But I do. I want you to be comfortable, especially because I might ask a lot of questions.” Her voice rises at the end, like she wants permission to quiz me.

  “Bring it on. I love a dirty talker.”

  She laughs, glancing down as if she’s embarrassed. ‘Well, I wasn’t thinking like that, exactly.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll get you there in the dirty talk department.”

  “And I think, too, you can look at this as a practical class. And I suppose you’re the teacher.”

  I hum happily. “Hands-on classes were always my favorite.”

  She quirks a brow in a question, then shakes her head. “Yes, I suppose it is hands-on.”

  How else would we be practicing if not hands-on? But I don’t say that. If she needs to ease into this, it’s fine by me. “And where do you want to start? You want to get out of here and go to my house or to yours?”

  She furrows her brow. “Do we need to do that?”

  I blink, trying to process what she’s saying, and then it hits me. Duh. I missed the obvious signs. She’s trying to break out of her shell. She doesn’t want to practice sex at home. She wants to try it in an elevator, or my truck, or maybe even right here.

  I glance around, a dirty grin tugging at my lips. “We can start right here if you’d like.”

  “We can?” Her voice is feathery.

  “If that works for you.”

  She draws a quick breath, then another, like she’s gulping for air. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

  Music to my ears.

  Since all good sex practice starts with a kiss, I close my eyes and dip my face closer to hers, inhaling her sweet smell, savoring the closeness of her skin. I inch nearer, ready to kiss her breathless. I didn’t expect we’d move so quickly, but I have no objections to this pace. None at all, as her honey-scented lotion floats into my nostrils, blurring my mind with the possibilities of pleasure.

  But my lips meet nothing but a whoosh of air. My eyes fly open. She’s standing above me. I blink, trying to sort out why she leaped up so quickly.

  It doesn’t look like she jumped away from me. It looks like maybe she missed I was going in for a kiss.

  She smooths her hands over her skirt, spins around, and parks her hands on the arm of the couch, bending into an L. “Should we start with spanking?”

  “You don’t want to ease into it a little more?”

  “Go big or go home, right?”

  I didn’t think lesson one would be ass-smacking, but I’m a flexible guy. Plus, she has a fantastic rear, so I can handle this curveball. I move behind her and bring my hand to her hip to adjust her position.

  “We can just do all of this with clothes on, right?”

  I stop, the record scratching to a halt. “We can?”

  “I meant to say that. Didn’t I say that? I had so many things I wanted to say.” Her brow pinches as if she’s trying to remember. “That's what I said, right?”

  “I feel like I’d have remembered that,” I say flatly.

  “Oh.” Her face is crestfallen. “That’s what I meant with the sample part. The ‘just a taste’ part.”

  My shoulders sag. My libido has been kicked in the nuts. “That’s what you meant?”

  She stands up straight, smiling like she’s proud of herself. “I think the best part of this is we don’t have to get naked. All I want is to test out some options here and there. A little biting, a little spanking, and we don’t even have to take off our clothes for that. Since we’re friends, we can basically act, and that way we won’t technically cross any lines.”

  Kill. Me. Now.

  I’m playing Fifty Shades of Blue Balls.

  And I’m already halfway there.

  15

  Gabe

  I like to think I’ve seen nearly everything.

  I’ve pulled mangled bodies out of cars that have crashed on the highway. I’ve witnessed hearts restarting in the back of ambulances as sirens blared. I’ve been called to some wild scenes at homes, featuring apples and broomsticks that have
been stuck in openings where neither fruit nor cleaning supplies belong.

  But this?

  My best friend asking me to play sex charades?

  This is the very definition of being thrown for one hell of a loop the loop. Here I was, sliding into the evening with one thing in mind: finding the best opening to let the woman know how I feel.

  And while I was strutting down Feelings Street, she’s swept in front of me, cut me off, and taken a sharp left down Let’s Act It Out Lane.

  I clear my throat. Drag my hand through my hair. Try to sort out my thoughts. “So we’re basically doing wrestling moves?”

  “Exactly!” She nods enthusiastically, her smile spreading. Clearly, this project is important to her and delights her. I ought to find a way to share that excitement. But it’s admittedly a little hard.

  Oh, wait. It’s my dick that’s still hard. Overeager fucker needs to back off. “Kind of like dance moves? Like we’re going to a dance class?”

  “Yes. Like we’re rehearsing scenes. Think about us as actors on stage. They’re not really fencing, but they’re going through the motions. Like stage fighting.”

  “Or stage fucking?”

  “Yes, not real fucking.”

  I deflate. Fully this time. This is my unlucky day.

  “Because that would be weird. How weird would it be if I asked you to do that?” She laughs, amused, it seems, at the sheer incredulity of someone ever suggesting that. More like sheer fucking awesomeness.

  “Ha. So weird. I mean, right? Who does that?” I echo, like I can’t believe anyone would ever do that.

  “Exactly.” Her face seems to light up with relief. “You hear about that happening. A friend asks her friend to help her learn the ropes, but it never works out if you actually go through with it. How could it? How could you practice with somebody and not develop feelings for them?”