Return of the Jerk (Sweet Life in Seattle, Book 2) (28 page)

“WHAT THE HELL
is this?” Nathan mutters when he sees the air mattress sitting on the floor next to his desk, all neatly made up for bed.

Christ.

He’s had a shitty day, and this is the last thing he wants to deal with. First, he gets a call from the technical consultant he hired last week, filling him in on a whole list of problems with his website’s expansion. Then Marla calls him this morning, asking him if he’d come help with a surprise gift for Kiki’s wedding. He said yes, because he wanted to do something nice for his little sister.

Turns out Marla’s idea of a ‘surprise’ involved him driving her around in her black Escalade all day, going from store to store looking at furniture. He figured she wanted him to help pay for something and then help carry it, but that wasn’t it at all. She was just spinning her wheels, wasting their time.

“Look, Marla, I’m done. I can’t look at another couch. Just let me know the amount, and I’ll give you the money.”

“I thought you wanted to help me pick out something nice for the happy couple.” She slid her hand down his arm. “We’re going to be family soon, after all.”

“Yeah,” he muttered under his breath.

When they weren’t looking at couches, Marla wouldn’t stop talking about her divorce, telling him every intimate detail. Going on about how lonely she felt, about what a prick her ex was—not that he’s ever met the guy, though apparently he was unfaithful to her.

“You and I had a real good thing once, didn’t we, Road?” she asked, putting her hand on his leg. “You have to admit that.”

“Sure, I guess.” In truth, he remembered how she was always a little crazy, even back then.

“I hear you’ve become some kind of successful blogger now. Your mom was telling me all about it the other day.”

He frowned, wishing his mom would quit bragging to everybody about him, not to mention learn who her real friends were.

Then there was the way Marla kept putting her hands on him as he was driving her car. Touching his arms and chest, rubbing his thigh, even trying to grab his dick. “Jesus, Marla, cut it out.” But she only laughed. He kept swatting her hands away, dodging her lascivious fingers. She was aggressive as hell, and he damned near felt molested. At one point, she actually straddled him in the driver’s seat after he parked the car.

“God, you were always so handsome.” Marla licked her lips. “And you still are.”

“Thanks.” He had his hands on her waist, trying to pick her up and remove her from his lap without hurting her. “Can you get off me?”

“Do you still think I’m hot? You used to, remember?”

“Sure, course.”

“Let’s go back to my house and spend the afternoon in bed. What do you say?”

“Listen, Marla, I’m married,” Nathan said with relief, remembering he had the perfect out.

“Oh, come on, that’s bullshit. You and Little Miss Priss? I know you’re not serious. There’s no way that’s real.”

“It’s real, all right.” Nathan thought about last night, Blair moaning and grabbing him.
That was plenty real.
He always liked it when a woman was noisy, but with Blair, it seriously turned him on. Some women put on a little show, but that was no show. Blair’s responsiveness was hot and unexpected. He can’t believe he would have forgotten that about her, no matter how drunk he was. And then it hit him, the reason he didn’t remember Blair being noisy all those years ago.
I didn’t make her come.
He felt embarrassed all over again, but figured he at least made up for it some last night. It seemed like she had a good time.

Then why in the hell am I staring at an air mattress?

He sighs, reaches over to shut off his computer, then leans back in his office chair. Blair cleaned up his desk and organized it. Normally, he’s funny about anyone messing with his stuff, but he can see she was only being helpful.

Should leave Blair alone. It’s obviously what she wants.

Knows he should, but in truth, he was hoping for another night with her. Been thinking about her all day as he was fighting off Marla. Even this morning, talking to Blair alone in her bedroom, he was feeling the pull of her. Touching her neck, her skin so smooth.

Had to get out of there
.

It’s not like Blair’s in love with that dude—she said so herself—but he knows he should let her be with that guy if it’s what she wants.

Not exactly what
I
want, though.

He wants to feel her pressed against him again, listening to all those pretty sounds she makes. Selfish, but there it is. Despite their shitty history, he’s attracted to her. She’s sweet and classy and way too good for him.

What did Marla call her? Miss Priss. Blair did have some prissy ways, but even that turned him on. Those haughty looks. He’s always liked a woman who could throw some sass.

I should let her be, should leave her alone.

He’s still telling himself this as he unfolds himself from the chair, leaves the office, and walks down the hall toward her bedroom.

Not sure what he’s going to find when he quietly opens the door, expecting she might be asleep, but it turns out Blair’s awake, sitting in bed reading.

She looks up from her Kindle, and he can tell she’s wearing her usual T-shirt and shorts. Remembers teasing her about not wearing nighties.

Not complaining about those shorts, though.

He imagines her in a sexy little nightie and figures it’s just as well she’s not wearing something like that.

Probably give me a heart attack.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, but he can see on her face she already knows why he’s here. “I set up a place for you to sleep in the office.”

“Yeah, I saw it.”

The room is dark except for the lamp glowing on her nightstand, and he can see Blair’s eyes on him as he makes his way over to the bed to sit down.

“Why?” is all he asks.

She bites her lip, but doesn’t look away. The two of them study each other. He knows he should give her the space she wants, shouldn’t push it, but the stubborn part of him, the part that wants to stay, is curious to hear her reasons.

“Is it because of that guy, Graham?”

Blair eyes widen a little. “No, that’s not it.”

“Then what?”

But she just shakes her head.

“Is it the past? Our history?”

Blair doesn’t reply. Her hands are still gripping her Kindle, though she’s not looking at it. Her head is tilted a little, and her hair is pulled back in a way so he can see the lines of her slender neck.

“Tell me,” he says softly. He wants to reach out and touch her, let those red curls brush against him again. Something about Blair keeps drawing him in.

“Having you here has stirred things up for me.”

“I get that.”

“It’s not as if I’m hanging on to it. A lot happened, and even though some of it could have been good, it wound up being all bad.” Her eyes meet his. “You know?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “That’s the truth.”

Neither of them speaks or moves after that. The room is quiet except for the noises of distant traffic outside her neighborhood.

Nathan shifts position on the bed so he’s turned toward her. Without a word, he reaches over and takes the Kindle from Blair’s hand, placing it on the closest nightstand. He feels like an intruder in her private space, but doesn’t let it stop him. He licks his lips then motions slightly with his head. “Let your hair down for me.”

She remains still for a long moment, and he wonders if she’ll do it or if she’ll tell him to go. But then she reaches behind her and pulls the band off so there’s a riot of fiery curls falling over her shoulder.

He lets out his breath.

Blair considers him. “Take your hoodie off.” A little smile plays around the corners of her mouth.

Nathan reaches for the collar around his neck and pulls the thick, cotton material over his head, tossing it on her dresser. He’s still wearing a white T-shirt and jeans.

They eye each other. She leans closer and whispers, “It’s your turn.”

And those three words stir some kind of voodoo magic in his blood.

“Your shorts.” His voice comes out hoarse as he looks down at her waist.

He can tell she’s surprised he didn’t ask for the shirt, but this way he gets to see those legs as she pushes the covers aside and wiggles out of the shorts. Watches her toss them over on the dresser with his hoodie.

Blair is sitting up now, knees folded beneath her, eyes roaming over him, and he wonders what her next request will be.

“Your pants.”

Nathan gets off the bed, trying to hide his grin. He unzips his jeans and shoves them off, so all he’s left wearing is the T-shirt and a pair of blue boxers. The T-shirt is long, but not long enough to hide the hard-on tenting his boxers.

Blair’s eyes linger on it, and the way she’s lingering is making him go even harder.

“See anything you like?” he asks.

“I do.”

Blair is still sitting on the bed with her legs folded beneath her and gives him a coy smile. “Your turn.”

Nathan takes her in, liking what he sees, too.
Can’t wait to see all of her.
“The shirt.”

She reaches down for the hem of her shirt and pulls it over her head, throws it over with the rest of the clothes on her dresser.

Lust hits him hard at the sight of her nearly naked body. His breath catches, and he automatically starts telling himself to relax.
We got time. No big rush.
Her breasts are nice and fit the elegant way she’s made. Nipples a rosy pink. But the most amazing part is her skin, so pale and smooth it’s nearly luminous.
Didn’t get to see this last night.

Blair’s watching him, and he wonders if she can see his strong reaction to her. “Come here,” he says, surprised at the command in his voice.

But she slowly shakes her head. “No.”

He chuckles then lets out his breath, putting both his hands behind his neck and takes another breath. “All right, what’s it going to be?”

“Your shirt.”

Nathan reaches back and yanks his shirt overhead, tossing it aside. Her eyes are on him, roaming so intently, he’s relieved to not be the only one affected.

“Now, your underwear,” she says, a little catch in her voice.

He smiles to himself. He likes that little catch. “Don’t think so. My turn, remember?” She’s wearing pink-striped panties. His pulse kicks into overdrive. “Take ’em off, babe.”

Blair’s fingers slip into each side of the fabric as she slowly slides them lower, revealing what he can see even in the dim light is a red bush that’s only a shade darker than the hair on her head.
That
, he does remember from years ago.
Not likely to forget it, either.
Despite an attraction to redheads, he’s only been with a few women who were natural.

“Satisfied?” she asks softly.

“Very.”

She looks pointedly down at the last vestige of clothing between them, so he pushes his boxers off quickly and kicks them aside. His erection bobbing free. “Now come here,” he tells her.

Blair is shaking her head again, though. She lies down on her side. When she speaks, her voice is playful. “No, you have to come to me.”

Blair watches him get on the bed. He starts with her left foot, holding it in his hand, kissing the side then the top, playing with her toes. “What are you doing?” She giggles. “Do you have a foot fetish?”

“Looks that way.”

She’s lying back on her elbows, taking in the way Road’s head is bent over her foot, his blond hair falling forward as one hand holds her calf and the other plays with her toes. She giggles some more. The excitement of being with him like this, the joy of it, and the complete disbelief are all exploding inside her.

So much for having him sleep on an air mattress.

But how do you resist years of erotic fantasies being offered up on a silver platter?

Suddenly, Road nips her instep, and Blair lets out a small shriek.

He chuckles. “I have a fetish for all the pretty bits I’m seeing here.” He runs his hand over her calf, working his way up her leg. Touching her knee, inner thigh, stroking her hip. By now, Blair’s giggles are gone, turned into something else entirely.

“Kiss me,” she says, breathless, reaching for him.