Page 73 of Mr Nice Guy

“And that’s bad, why?”

My brain blanks out for a moment as I try to remember why I decided getting off again so soon would be a bad idea. Then it comes back to me and I offer a soft smile. “Because for the first time ever we don’t have to cram everything into a few hours. We’ve got all day together. And all night.” I wrap my arms around his waist and pull him closer, brushing my lips to his. “For once we can actually pace ourselves, and I’ve got really big plans for you in the next twenty-four hours, so we need to save some energy. And you need to wash my cum off you before I completely ignore everything I just said.”

“That’s not exactly an incentive,” he says dryly. “Neither is having your cock this close to mine.” Emphasizing his words, he rocks his hips forward so our cocks bump together. Neither of us have bothered to pull our pants up yet, so it’s bare, sensitive skin that touches and I can’t stop the soft gasp that falls from my lips.

I somehow manage to pull myself away and tug my jeans up, covering my half-hard dick.

“Party pooper,” Tanner grumbles.

I let out a soft laugh. “Go clean up. I’ll find us something to eat while you’re gone—you don’t mind if I go through your kitchen, do you?”

He shakes his head. “No, of course not. But I’m only going to go shower on my own if you promise to be naked when I get back,” he says, hitting me with a challenging look that I’m sure he must have employed many times over the years when dealing with difficult business associates. “Like you said, we’ve got the house to ourselves all day, so none of this crap.” He gestures to my jeans with obvious disapproval.

I let out a soft chuckle. “And if I get cold?”

“I’ll warm you up.”

I press a soft kiss to his lips, liking the sound of that. “Deal.”

Tanner shows me to the kitchen before heading upstairs to shower. I have a feeling he’s going to be as fast as humanly possible, so I strip out of my jeans and toss them on one of the stools at the granite island. If he comes back down and finds me still clothed, he won’t be impressed.

I thought the kitchen in the penthouse was impressive, but this one is a whole new level. All the sleek design features from the penthouse are here, just maximized in size about three-fold. Even the oven looks big enough for someone to fit in there. With the heat off, obviously.

I open what I assume to be the pantry, but instead find a two-door refrigerator. I’ve seen some fancy fridges in my time—Spencer has one with a touch screen that actually tells you what’s inside—but this one is actually pretty normal, albeit pretty big.

I swing both doors open and am not entirely surprised to find it organized neatly and logically, with different shelves for different categories of food items, and neatly labelled containers with clearly marked expiration dates. I give a wry shake of my head and decide here and now to never let Tanner see the inside of my and Drew’s fridge.

I’m not entirely sure what I’m supposed to be getting for us to eat.

Something that’s not super filling—no one wants to have sex when they’ve just stuffed their face and are all bloated with a food baby—but something that’s still going to give a bit of an energy boost. It’s not just that we have the whole day and night to look forward to and I don’t want crash into a heap later; that’s probably not even the main reason, if I’m being honest.

The reality is, I haven’t exactly been practicing the best self-care over the past few days, and even after Jazz’s reassurance yesterday, I still wasn’t able to eat much this morning because I was too nervous about how things were going to go once Tanner and I started talking. I could tell the moment Tanner opened the door that the time apart has been just as hard on him, and even after we sorted things out and shared that incredible orgasm, he still looked completely wrung out. When I saw he was getting hard again, all I wanted to do was drag him off to bed and get my cock inside him. But we both need some recovery time first; not just from the sex workout, but from the past couple days.

Finding some grapes and strawberries, I decide to make a little platter that we can pick at while watching TV.

It turns out the pantry is actually a walk-in one that’s almost as big as the kitchen itself, and is stocked better than most grocery stores. I find some almonds and dried apricots, and am just reaching for a box of chocolate-coated roasted chickpeas—never tried those before, but more protein options won’t hurt—when I hear someone moving around in the kitchen. Grinning to myself, I grab the box and exit the pantry.

“Oh my god! What the fuck?”

I hastily shove the packages in my hands down to cover my crotch when I realize the person in the kitchen isn’t Tanner, but a young woman with long, auburn hair and familiar blue eyes. She’s dressed casually but her clothes are all designer and there’s a Birken bag sitting on the counter. She can only be Tanner’s oldest daughter, Piper.

“Oh my god, I’m never going to be able to eat apricots again,” she groans, covering her face with one hand.

“You must be Piper,” I say awkwardly.

“And you must be the guy Dad was a complete mess about two days ago,” she shoots back, clearly unimpressed.

“We…figured things out.”

“I see that…”

For all of Jazz’s abrasiveness, I was confident after our encounter yesterday that he was fully on board with Tanner and me being together, provided I don’t hurt him. Piper, though? To be fair, it’s only been a few moments and this is anincrediblyawkward way to meet your boyfriend’s daughter, but I just can’t shake the idea that she’s not thrilled about this situation.

“I should put some pants on,” I say awkwardly. And then, figuring she must be here to see Tanner, I add, “Your dad’s just taking a shower. He should be down soon.”

She cringes and shakes her head. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll wait for that. I just came to grab this for RJ.” She collects a file from the counter and slips it into her bag. “It was…nice to meet you, I guess,” she says awkwardly. “Thanks for scarring my corneas.”

Then she sets her bag in the crook of her elbow and stalks from the kitchen.

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