Page 46 of Tangled Up

“Fine. But only for a few minutes.”

“Good, and I’ll take the lipstick and lotion.”

I pulled up to Jason’s block a little after six. He lived in a townhouse which boasted a two-car garage, basketball hoop, and perfectly groomed landscaping. A few familiar faces greeted me as I entered the front door, and with a quick glimpse around, I noted the house was bigger than it appeared from the outside, with a huge flat-screen in the living room along with every piece of technology and gaming system imaginable in the entertainment unit. Surround sound music echoed in every room, over the din of all the chatter.

I found my mom sipping red wine in the kitchen. She kissed my cheek.

“Honey, you look so sweet. Where’d you find that dress?”

“Thrift store.”

“Looks like something from Nordstrom.” She touched the straps crisscrossing over my back. “It gives you a nice shape.”

“Thanks.” I tugged on the blue and gray dress with cutouts at my waist.

She lifted her glass, motioning in a circle. “So, what do you think of the house?”

“It’s very…beige.”

“I know, right?” she whispered. “He’s been here for a few years now, but it’s so…blah.” She poked my hand. “Frank’s on the deck smoking a cigar, but I don’t know where Jason ducked off to. Why don’t you see if you can find him?”

When she physically shoved me away, I begrudgingly went on the hunt, starting with a self-guided tour of the second floor. The first room held an ironing board, a few cardboard boxes, and a desk. The room next to it had only a twin bed, along with a nightstand in the corner. There was a bathroom and laundry room and, at the end of the hallway, double doors. Nosy, I opened them and tiptoed into the master bedroom, like a spy crossing enemy lines. On the right, Jason’s clothes filled up less than half the space of the huge walk-in closet. I inspected the attached bathroom, a herringbone-tiled floor with a shower in the corner. The clear glass doors spread from floor to ceiling, and it had more than enough room for two people. Circling back around, I settled my attention on the king-size bed held up on a plain black bed frame, bookended by night tables on each side. An overstuffed gray chair sat in the corner beside one small chest of drawers.

An unbidden scene unfolded before me, and I closed my eyes to it, hoping to drive it away. But my mind had other ideas. My blood heated, envisioning Jason carrying me through the double doors. I recalled the taste of him when he kissed me, the warmth of his tongue, the pressure of his hands in my hair, tenderly pushing it back from my face.

My heart tripped over itself as I imagined that same pressure all over my body. His fingers on my hips, stomach, breasts, between my legs. My spine tingled as I pictured us in the shower. I could almost smell the now-familiar scent of his skin and wondered what it might feel like soaped up with bubbles. Soft and hot as water sluiced over his muscles, the planes of his back, the ridges of his abdomen, that length of him which I’d gotten a glimpse of in the tux shop.

I ached for it to be real, for some relief. My nipples pebbled and my thighs clenched together, every part of me aware of how close I was to Jason now. Here, in his bedroom, in his innermost sanctum. If only—

“Hey, you.”

I jumped, clutching at my chest, and whirled around. Jason knocked the breath right out of me, and I couldn’t speak as he stood, leaning against the doorjamb, hands in his pockets. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Sudden cottonmouth made anything more than one syllable impossible. “Hi.”

He tilted his head to the side, regarding me with his careful, cool gaze. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, fidgeting with my dress as his eyes roved over me. I wasn’t often this dolled up. I’d pulled my hair back in a sleek ponytail and wore dark makeup, and he seemed to appreciate it.

“You look beautiful.”

The compliment, though simple, had my heart racing at its honesty. “Thank you.”

His lips turned up in an easy smile. “I like that dress on you.”

Here he was, totally calm and casual, having absolutely no idea that I’d been fantasizing about how many places we could have sex in this room. I felt the blush creeping up my cheeks and excused myself with a mumbled apology then hightailed it downstairs as fast as my feet would carry me in the cursed wedge sandals my mother had given me for my birthday.

Back in the kitchen, I found Frank and my mother cuddled up together in the corner. He immediately drew me in for a hug. “How are you? Want something to drink?”

“No. I’ve actually got to leave. I have a date.”

“Who has a date?” Jason asked, joining us.

“I do,” I said, scratching at a cut in the wood of the butcher block island. “With Remy.”

“You’re kidding. The tuxedo guy?”

He didn’t have to sound so shocked. “Yes.”

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