Page 101 of Down & Dirty

Slipping from the room, I heard him in the linen closet. He dropped a towel on the floor, dragging it with his foot across the hall in a lazy attempt to sop up the water we’d tracked everywhere. When he returned with a soft washcloth in his hand, he sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze tracking up my body in a slow, hungry crawl. For having just come moments ago, he looked ready for another round.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he whispered, as if only to himself, while he carefully wiped up the mess we’d made.

I glanced at the clock, asking nervously, “Where is your dad?” My cheeks heated at the idea he might have been downstairs listening to us this whole time.

He tossed the towel toward the door, watching it land next to the rest of his dirty clothes. “He’d have gone back to Mack’s to watch the game.” He looked back at me, a sparkle in his eye when he read the nerves on my face. “Bigger TV. He won’t be back for a while.”

I sighed, sagging onto the bed and rolling onto my side. “Thank god.”

“Not much of an exhibitionist, huh?” he asked, stroking a gentle line up my leg with his fingertips, his eyes cast down to watch the goosebumps he raised.

“No. Hard pass.”

“Good,” he said, his tone lacking the playfulness I expected. “Me either.”

Considering how possessive he’d been around one of his own friends, I could see that. His words from the other night came back;that he’d wanted to keep anyone from seeing me. Cory wasn’t big on sharing. Which was an interesting revelation when you considered how all of his relationships before this had been so public.

But they’d also been entirely fake, right? So this was just one more sign that what he was doing with me wasn’t the same. I shouldn’t still need confirmation of that, but a part of me did. We’d started down one path, and now we were on one that felt completely different. I wanted to believe in everything I was feeling, but it had been a long time since I’d gone there with a man. And nothing had ever felt like this before.

I sat up, scanning the room for a shirt. “I’m going to make a fresh cup of tea and get some of those cookies Mack brought over. Do you want anything?”

Slipping from the bed, I pulled on a pair of sleeping shorts and the first shirt I saw. It was a thin-strapped tank top that did little to cover me, but with the wood stove downstairs I’d yet to be cold in this house.

“I’ll take a cookie,” he answered, his arm darting out to capture my waist as I walked by. He nuzzled into my chest, resting his chin there as he looked up at me. “Need the fuel so we can do that again.”

“Sure you only need one then?” I gave him a skeptical look which he answered by smacking my ass.

“I don’tneedany, gorgeous. If you’re ready, I’m ready.”

I was not ready. I wanted something else in my stomach but the butterflies and anticipation that were making me feel too giddy for someone in my situation. My fake husband had just given me two of the best orgasms of my life...no,the best. And now he was looking at me like there was nothing fake about us at all.

As I gently combed my fingers through his hair, his eyes drifted closed with a rumbling groan. “I believe the holiday dictates overindulgence in all forms, handsome. It would be anti-American to leave out the desserts.”

Cory’s eyes popped open, a dark flame simmering in them that told me I’d only given him more ammunition. “Go get your cookies, woman, before I show you what I consider dessert and overindulgence all at once.”

With my teeth dug into my lower lip I slipped from his grasp, bolting away before he changed his mind. I was still wearing a contented smile, humming to myself, as I crossed the heat-soaked living room. The sun had set hours ago, and the walls were painted in dancing fire-light. My bare feet padded silently across the wood floors and I took my time appreciating the cozy warmth of the house.

It was less of a challenge to imagine Cory as a kid now, growing up inside these walls. I still wished I knew more about his childhood, especially after his mom died, but it felt like we were getting there, like we were on the path that would lead me to those answers. We’d begun peeling back the layers of each other slowly, with care. And the sweetness of that had another wide smile on my lips as I turned toward the sink to fill the kettle.

And spotted Mack in the doorway.

“Holy shit!” I gasped, the words bursting out of me as I almost dropped the kettle, covering my heart with my other hand. Of course, in doing so, I felt the bare skin between my breasts and remembered just how revealing this tank top was.

“Sorry,” Mack said, his eyes dropping quickly to the floor. But not so fast I missed his smirk. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

I deposited the kettle on the stove carefully, and crossed my arms over my chest, unsure if that was helping or hurting. “I didn’t expect anyone. Cory said you’d be at your place for the game.”

“We are,” he said, taking a tentative step into the kitchen and pointing to the fridge. “Just came for some leftovers and dad’s beer. I forgot to stock up and he’s not letting me live it down.”

“He doesn’t like your kind?” It was painful to try and make conversation while barely clothed.

Mack actually laughed. Or at least, that’s what I took the huff of air and a slightly brighter scowl to be.

“Nah. He’s been drinking the same shit his whole life. Calls what I drink ‘bread in a bottle.’”

I chuckled, the image of Jacob saying that coming easily to mind. He and Mack shared a lot of the same grumpiness, but Jacob’s was laced with a humor that I found incredibly endearing.

“Gotcha.”

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