Page 16 of Last First Time
He laughs. “I can walk. See?” He spins around in a little circle, tilting precariously.
“Kade, if you faceplant in your own driveway, I’m not picking you up. Quit acting ridiculous and come inside.”
“You come inside, Kar.” His lips kick up into a naughty smile. “Do you want to see my etchings?”
“You’re out of control, Mr. Mayor. Now come on, let’s get you tucked into bed before you say any more crazy stuff tonight.”
“Like about our business plan for Shots and Tots? We could offer tater tots too, you know, to offset confusion.” He snickers but drapes his arm around my shoulders and we start the slow dragging slide toward his front door. “Or was this about you buying the building instead of Mrs. Doubtfire?”
“Both, you weirdo. We can still be best friends even if I live and work in a different town.” I tug him toward the door and prop him against the doorframe.
He closes his eyes, his head tilted back. “I don’t want you to go to a different town. I want you to stay here and complain about me some more.”
“Give me your keys, Reed. The door is locked.” I tap my foot impatiently.
“They’re in my pocket, Kar. And get them yourself.” He doesn’t move a muscle, but stays propped against the doorframe waiting like he’s some kind of hot guy statue.
I growl at him, and his grin reappears. “You’re ridiculous.” I dig around in one back pocket, then the next, but only get a handful of round, sexy Reed butt each time. And yum, but also this is not helping me get him inside.
“You’re ridiculous. Buying the building is the perfect solution. You’ve run your business smoothly for years, and you should be able to get financing no problem. That way you keep your business and you stay with me forever.” He clears his throat and opens his eyes to look at me. “Front pocket.”
I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry, as I reach gingerly for his front pocket. “That’s the bourbon talking. Nobody is going to loan me that kind of money.” His skin is blazing hot through against my hand. I can feel his thigh muscle bunching up under my touch, but no keys.
The look he gives me is hot enough to scorch even the panties that are back at home in my dresser. “Other front pocket,” he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper.
I lick my lips and reach for the only pocket in his pants I haven’t searched yet. My hand finds him immediately, hot and hard and throbbing under my touch. I want to make a joke about his pocket wood, but I also want to rip his clothes off and hump him into oblivion right here on his front porch.
He hisses out my name, and I shiver. I stroke his hardness with my eager hand, then lean up to press my lips to his.
We finally break the kiss when we are both breathless. “My front jacket pocket, Kar. And you’re definitely coming inside now.” He smiles, predatory and toothy. “It seems we have business to discuss.”
Reed
Iwant to take her panties off with my teeth again, but it’s just going to have to wait for a minute. I’ve had not one, but two really good ideas here, and if I don’t act quickly enough, Karisma is going to leave me and Valentine and then I’ll be stuck in the long-distance friend zone, which we all know is even more impossible to escape from than the regular friend zone.
It took over a decade to get out of the regular friend zone with her. If she downgrades me to the long-distance friend zone, I’m not going to live long enough to take her panties off with my teeth ever again. Besides, this thing between us could be good. It is good.
It may not be the giant sweeping love affair that I would have preferred, but it’s working for us. For now at least. I’ll lure her into the giant sweeping love affair eventually. Probably by taking her panties off with my teeth.
She takes her shoes off right inside my front door, ever the dainty houseguest. I teased her about it early on, but she insists it’s how she feels most comfortable. “Shoes are dirty, Reed. I’m not dragging all that mess into anybody’s house, not yours for sure.” Then she muttered something quiet about fancy Persian carpets and that was that.
“What are you grinning at, Drunk Boy?” She’s in the middle of tugging off her tall Doc Martens, so she is less than half my height in her bare feet. I want to cuddle her because she looks so extra tiny and pissed off at me, but I’m willing to bet if I tried it, I’d fall over. Or she’d punch me in the dick. Either way, not a good move.
“I love you taking your clothes off in my house. You should do it more often.” I full on leer at her. It’s funny how little I care about pretending to be smooth with her when half my body chemistry is made of bourbon.
“It’s my shoes, you idiot. Shoes are not clothes.”
I laugh. “Shoes are too clothes. You are not wearing shoes when you are naked. Thus, shoes are definitely clothes.”
She snorts. “Great logic, drunky pie. Clothes go on your body. Shoes go on your feet. Thus, you are an idiotface and shoes are not clothes.”
“Your feet are part of your body, duh. Also, if you take off your shoes in public, people definitely give you that side eye. Obviously, shoes are clothes.” I fold my arms. Case closed.
“If you took off your actual clothes in public, you would end up in jail. Obviously, it’s time to put this ridiculous debate to bed for the night and you along with it.” She gestures toward the foyer. “Lead on, your majesty.”
I hate it when she gets all weird about my home. But I know she’s doing it tonight because half the town has seen photos of me with a parade of other women on my arm—not to mention my bare naked behind—and the tawdry publicity of it all left her feeling overly exposed and afraid about her privacy, even though nobody knows about us and we aren’t in any of those photographs. Also, she’s clearly up to her eyebrows in worry about her business situation. Which reminds me, I am a total genius.
“I am a total genius.” I let the words ring out triumphantly, then gesture for her to go ahead of me. “Let’s go sit and discuss how we’re going to get you the loan you need to buy out the building.”
