Page 1 of Tempting

KENZIE

Can’t put my finger on what I’m in the mood for... Could be tacos and a margarita. A little online shopping? Maybe an orgasm... Yup. That’s it. Ding-ding-ding!

Orgasm is the winner.

—Kenzie’s Secret Thoughts

Coming home is a strange thing—especially after four years.

You think everything will be the same, and in a lot of ways, it is... but different.

Life has a sneaky way of doing that when you’re least expecting it.

Changing. Whether you want it to or not.

The last time I was in West End was the night before I moved to Washington, DC, for my ob-gyn residency. It was only four years ago, but it feels like a lifetime. The bar’s vibe is a mix between industrial and craftsman. Exposed wood beams and wide-planked reclaimed wood floors and tables are warmed by Edison bulbs strung overhead, while black metal chairs and stools scattered throughout manage to somehow balance the warmth with a cool, edgy feel that’s so perfectly fitting for the owner. The atmosphere is casually cool, and the food is delicious.

It’s been one of the town’s favorite hot spots since my cousin Maddox opened it years ago, and tonight is no exception. The place is packed, and our motley crew of friends and family take up an entire corner of the room. Not surprising, since we’ve always traveled in packs.

Where there’s one, there’s usually many, and tonight, we’re at least twenty deep. Football season is in full swing, and hockey preseason officially starts next week, meaning this will be one of the last times we get this many of the guys together at once for a little while. That’s probably why everyone seems so carefree tonight. Jokes are flying, and beer is flowing.

Everyone is enjoying themselves.

Everyone except Maddox, that is.

Carefree is rarely a word I’d use to describe my cousin.

Asshole, occasionally. Sarcastic, always. Carefree . . . not really.

He hands me a glass of water with a lemon wedge and arches one dark, bushy eyebrow like a cartoon villain. “Better make sure you don’t drink to many of these. We wouldn’t want you to loosen up and lose control tonight.”

Yup. Still a sarcastic fucker.

I know how to lose control.

“Whatever, shithead. I’m on call as of midnight tonight.” I drop my lemon into the glass, then push it down with the straw. “Booze and babies don’t mix.”

“Not unless you’re making them,” he argues with a smirk before moving further down the bar to grab an order from a woman twice his age who’s looking at him like he might be on the menu.

Apparently not everything changes.

My cousin Brynlee grabs my hand and presses it against her baby bump to feel her baby boy going to town on her ribcage. “Can’t you deliver him now?” she pouts.

“Nope. You’ve got four more weeks, Brynnie. You’re a rockstar. You’ve got this.” I dig my fist into the small of her back, alleviating some of the pressure this little man has been putting on his momma, and she drops her head and moans in relief.

“God, I love you. How about you come home with us? I’ll kick Deacon out of bed. You can have his spot.”

Like a homing beacon, her hot, hockey-coach giant of a husband hears his name and zeroes in on his wife. “You kicking me out of bed, red?”

“Depends... Can you do what she just did?” she challenges, and the smile splashing across Deacon’s face is filthy, which has me quickly looking away.

It’s been so damn long since someone looked at me with filthy thoughts dancing behind their eyes. At least any someones I want looking at me that way.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Coach,” Brynn giggles, and I take that as my cue to slide away before I hear something I don’t want or need to know.

My friends have no boundaries or filters.

I love them. Truly I do. Even if they put the Sex and the City ladies to shame with the way they all love to talk about their sex lives. Samantha would be proud. Maybe if I had a sex life, I wouldn’t be as over the constant talk as I am. But man... when you’re the only one not having hot sex—sex with a professional athlete, no less—let alone, the only one who’s never had an orgasm provided by something that doesn’t require a charging cord, it gets a little old.

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