Page 24 of Bottle Rocket
“I’m boring and have no hobbies. I’m in the rec league over here. But not the good rec league. The type of rec league where everyone gets trashed in the parking lot before the game.”
Leo laughed, deep and smoky in her ear. She wanted to feel that laugh between her legs. On her stomach. Against her neck.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked.
She cleared her throat. “I heard you met my sister today. I’m sorry if she made you uncomfortable.”
“She didn’t. She’s a force to be reckoned with, and she gave me lube. I was thinking of testing it out, but decided I’d wait for you.”
“Did you, now?”
“Yeah, I did. We should make headway on that list of yours. Time’s ticking.”
“Okay. I could be into that.”
“Should we move this rodeo to your apartment or my trailer?”
She glanced around wildly. Her living room wasn’t clean. Empty popcorn bowl, carton of slowly melting ice cream, two bras she’d taken off at some point and left on the couch.
During the school year, she was super diligent about keeping her home spotless, but this summer, she’d backslid. It was so easy to leave empty hard seltzer cans on top of the coffee table and three pairs of flip-flops under it.
Gross, but freeing. She’d been able to settle down comfortably in her own home, and holy shit, was that different than when she’d been married.
“My place,” she said, once she realized she’d be able to pick up easily.
She liked the thought of Leo in her space. He’d see more than her boring gray walls and fake granite countertops and pots of succulents. He’d seeher.
“Text me your address. I’ll bring food.”
“You’re the best. Oh, and Leo?”
“Yeah?”
“Please be ready for me when you get here.” Was that too polite? Maybe she should have said,You best have a boner for me or else.But that didn’t feel like her at all.
“Ready how?”
“I expect you to be hard.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Leo hung up, and Rosie let out a shaky breath.
Time to put on pants. And tell her siblings, whose texts she’d been ignoring, that she was going to get laid, and they needed to leave her alone. Then she turned her phone off, to be especially evil.
When Leo walked through the door of her condo thirty minutes later, all kitted out in his motorcycle sex-on-a-stick outfit, Rosie almost ripped away the pizza he was holding and grabbed his dick. She saw the outline of it in his jeans. Instead, she very reservedly removed the pizza from his hands, put it on the counter, and slipped a finger through his belt loop to tug him exactly where she wanted him.
She had this chair-and-a-half that she loved. It had been her postdivorce, self-care purchase—a huge, crisp, cream-colored chair with the most luxurious fabric. She pushed Leo to his knees directly in front of it.
“Hold on,” she said. He groaned. Then she realized those were the first words she’d spoken, so she wheeled back around, leaned down, and kissed him gently on the lips. He’d shaved that morning, and she caught the summery scent of lemons. It made her mouth water. He kissed her as if he was giving her everything. It was more profound than she was prepared for.
She pulled back and said, “You okay?”
He blinked a few times. “Yeah.”
“You’ll tell me to stop if you want me to?”
“Of course,” he said.
“Cool. Hold on.”
