Page 55 of Icing the Enemy

“Here. You may need this. And drink half of the water now and hopefully, we won’t have hangovers.”

“I think we worked out all of the alcohol. Don’t you?” She sits up and drinks the water and swallows the pills. The blankets settle against her waist, exposing her tight lavender tank top. I turn off the lamp and scoot in behind her since Dixie is at the bottom of the bed.

“Oakley?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.”

She squirms her backside closer and says, “Why?”

“Because you asked me to help you, and I took advantage of that trust.”

“Corbin, I wanted to have sex with you. I’ve never had a man, or a boy, look at me with the desire to please me. I finally had a beautiful erotic experience, and I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

She finds my hand that’s strewn over her waist and interlaces our fingers. “Let’s not cut ourselves short on our one night together by acting like it was a mistake. It was two people having sex regardless of the arrangement.”

Sex. Arrangement.

Not making love. Or Marriage.

“Can I ask you one thing before we go to sleep? Why did you call me Firecracker?” She chuckles and turns over to face me. “That’s what I call my,you know. Because when I’ve touched myself before, the only way I can get a little orgasm is by working that bundle of nerves. I never came harder than a firecracker until tonight. You made my little firecracker explode.”

“You have a way with words.” When I touch her cheek, it’s warm. The same way my body feels.

She inches her knee between my legs, nuzzling her head into the pouch between my shoulder and chest. She smells like Dove soap, which reminds me of what Mamaw said.“It’s time to fill up your heart with butterflies that only a woman who loves you can give. Promise me you’ll get married in my lifetime.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

oakley

Am I dreaming?A wave of nostalgia hits me of my mom cooking breakfast, as the savory aroma of bacon being cooked wafts through the air. For a moment, I forget where I’m at and whose bed I slept in, but my aching muscles remind me—Corbin’s bed. In Corbin’s house.

As I lift my body, I notice that Dixie is gone. Every morning, she licks my face, waking me up with her internal clock. She must have smelled the bacon. I throw the covers off my body and pad downstairs at a snail’s pace.

Corbin’s in the kitchen, stirring something in a bowl as Dixie waits patiently for a scrap of any food he has to offer. The white t-shirt he’s wearing stretches across his shoulder blades, and I watch his every move, appreciating his incredible body.

We may have had sex, and it felt so right and perfect, but I’m under no illusions that it will continue.

“Hey, why didn’t you wake me? I need to take Dixie out.”

“Done. She went on a jog with me this morning. That’s why I’m sweaty.” He throws his hands up likedon’t get near me, I stink.

I wonder if it’s an excuse to keep his distance from me.

“Come here, girl,” I call out. Dixie’s head swivels in my direction, then right back to Corbin. “Dixie, come to mama.” She stays put again so I saunter over to the stove and rub her head and kiss her nose.

When I’m done, I slide my hands around Corbin’s waist to see if he’s uncomfortable. He shouldn’t be after the way he twisted my body last night. But my fears are confirmed when he flinches. His body goes rigid and suddenly, I feel sick.

I manage to ask, “Have you watchedThe Godfathertrilogy?”

“One of the all-time great movie franchises,” he says as he continues preparing the eggs.

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” I quote Michael fromGodfather II.

“Which am I?” he asks as he glances over his shoulder.

“I’m still deciding.” Then I smack his ass.

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