Page 66 of Mr. Wrong Number

I sat down on the deck chair that’d come with the apartment and said, “Agreed.”

“I’m sure we also agree that Jack can never know what happened.”

“Never.” The sound of a car horn honked from below, andI crossed my arms over my chest and wondered how she wasn’t freezing out there. It was an unseasonably cool night, yet she stood there in panties and a tank top as if it were a hot summer’s night.

“Good.” She cleared her throat and turned around, a smile on her lips as the light from inside her apartment shined on her face. “So, um, you should probably take off now so we can put this mistake behind us.”

For some reason, the smile pissed me off. Even though I’d been planning on saying to her exactly what she’d said to me, the way she was grinning and telling me to leave just hit wrong. So I said, “Icouldtake off right now, but I don’t know if I feel like it.”

“What?” Her eyebrows slammed together like I knew they would.

I tilted my head and let my eyes stroll all over her.Shit, shit, shit—not too smart.“Think about it. The mistake has already been made—we had sex. So... if we were to have sex again on the same night, it still counts for the same mistake.”

She blinked fast, like she was thinking, and she crossed her arms. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Are you saying each time counts, then?”

“Yes.” She stacked one foot on top of the other and stood like a flamingo, which was somehow hot.

“So if we were to go up to your loft right now and have sex four times and then decided to come clean, you’re saying we’d have to tell your brother, ‘Hey, we had sex four times’ instead of ‘oops, we had sex.’ ”

She rolled her eyes but I could tell she wanted to smile. “Don’t be an idiot.”

“So you concede my point.”

“Kind of.” She did smile then, shaking her head a little. “I agree that sexual mistakes are probably on aper sessionbasis, as opposed toper orgasm, but that still doesn’t mean—”

“Come here, Marshall.” She was only about two steps away from of me, but it wasn’t close enough. “You’re too far away.”

Her smile changed, slid into something sexy as she dropped her arms to her sides and closed the gap between us. Except she kept coming, stepping in between my spread knees so I had to look up at her.

“So here’s what I’m thinking.” I put my hands on her waist and squeezed, and then—holy shit—Olivia climbed onto my lap like it was totally natural.

“Lay it on me.”

I was done. Any indecision was gone as she smiled and teased me. I said, “If this is our one and only ‘session,’ aren’t we cheating ourselves by not showing our best work? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I really liked our counter work—”

“As did I.”

“But I have more to offer. I’ve got some skills I’d like to showcase.”

That made her laugh. She crinkled her nose and said, “So basically you want to make sure I know just how good you are before we never do this again.”

“Exactly.” It was tough not to laugh, too, when she was looking at me like that. “Don’t you? Or maybe you don’t have skills...”

She rolled her eyes. “Trust me, I have skills.”

“I don’t think I believe you.”

“Really, Beck?”

She leaned closer and whispered something so incredibly dirty into my ear that my fingers reflexively tightened on her back. I didn’t know if she could do that with her tongue or not, but I was all in on finding out.

“Son of a bitch, Marshall.” I stood, threw her over my shoulder in a fireman’s hold, and opened the door. “Let’s go.”

She squealed my name.

“That’s right—say it,” I said around a laugh as I smacked her squirming ass and headed for the loft, which made her cackle.

---