Текст книги "The Unidentified Redhead"
Автор книги: Alice Clayton
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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
Chapter Thirteen
That night went down (pun intended and acknowledged) in history, forever known as, Hamilton: 5 / Sheridan: Lost Track After 17. It was probably the best night I ever spent in a bed with a man.
And on the floor with a man.
And up against the door with a man.
And, God, watch over and protect us, on the floor of the closet with a man.
As the sun crept into the sky, we were laying next to each other, totally spent. It had been like the Oral Olympics. At one point, poor Holly had actually come to the door, begging us to let her get some sleep. I couldn't respond, being otherwise engaged in the throes of another intense orgasm, so Jack removed his mouth long enough to tell her to go away, returning to me quickly. Such chivalry.
We were facing each other on our sides and he had his arm under my head, propping me up. My leg was thrown over his hip, my arm wrapped around his waist, trailing my fingers up and down his back. We hadn't spoken for a while, both of us too tired to say a word. He was pressing his lips against my face, my temples, my eyelids, my lips. He was humming softly, a tune I didn't recognize. I let out a groan and stretched my arms over my head, arching my back, listening as my muscles let me know they were overworked. My breasts were dangerously close to his face and he couldn't resist placing a soft kiss on my left nipple—which responded in turn. Then his hand found my right nipple. I moaned softly. I had to stop this. I smacked his hand away and rolled to the other side of the bed, my back to him.
"We have to stop, this is insane. I literally cannot handle anymore. I think I've lost brain function. I can actually feel myself becoming stupid," I complained, digging under the covers and burying my face into the pillows. He steamrolled across the bed into me, sliding his hands beneath the covers and finding my hips. He molded his body into mine, pressing his chest into my back.
"Not possible. Let's test it. What's two times two?"
"Orange?" I giggled tiredly.
"Hmm, this is worse than I thought…let's try another. What's my name?"
"George?" I puzzled.
"George? Bloody George? Grace, I'm shocked," he argued, pressing harder into me as I laughed. I could tell, and feel, where this was going.
"George, is it? Behave. There will be no more of that. My oonie can't handle any more," I protested on behalf of her, who of course was on a mission of her own. My body responded to him even when my brain was begging for rest.
"Settle, Sheridan. I am merely doing what all women seem to want. Spooning, is it?" He chuckled lowly in my ear, raising the hairs on the back of my neck with his closeness.
"Well, then that's fine. Quite nice, really," I answered, giving a great yawn. "It's now sleepy time, George, and then when we wake up, we will eat," I finished, already starting to drift off.
"And then…?"
"Then we'll see."
He was quiet for a moment and I thought he was finally asleep, when he laughed and said, "George and Gracie. It's perfect."
"Shut it, George."
"Right then, excellent," he said, kissing me sweetly on the cheek, and with a final snuggle of that fine-ass body against mine, we fell asleep.
***
11:27 a.m.
When I woke up, I was still exactly where I'd fallen asleep, with Jack snuggled persistently, even in sleep, against me. I felt his strong arms around me, hands surrounding my breasts, and I knew that I never wanted to leave this exact spot. Nevertheless, nature called.
I rolled over gently, trying not to wake him. He stirred in his sleep and I watched him drift away again, marveling at the way the light from the window danced across his face, showing the different shades of blonde and strawberry in his stubbly beard. I dusted my fingertips across his lips, and in his sleep, he kissed them. Not wanting to wake him further, I wrapped myself in the sheet that was on the floor and slipped from the bed, making my way to the bathroom. I nearly groaned as my legs protested. I could barely carry my own weight. I was sore, and frankly, I had every right to be.
I avoided my reflection, taking care of business first, and then brushed my teeth. I splashed water on my face and finally looked.
It was terrifying.
My hair was a nightmare and there was mascara under my eyes like a raccoon. My lips were incredibly swollen and puffy and the area around my mouth bore the battle scars of his scruff.
"Ridden hard and put away wet," was the phrase that sprang to mind.
Lowering the sheet, I examined myself further, each landmark bringing back a different memory of the night before. I saw nibbles on my breast where he had bit down a little too hard and the redness below my nipples, also from his scruffy stubble.
Looking lower, there was my Hamilton Brand, the tiny, but quite deliberate, bite on the inside of my thigh. Seeing this brought back a wave that settled into the pit of my stomach. It had truly been unreal.
There had been none of the awkwardness that sometimes, usually, accompanied the first romp with someone new. Let's face it, real life was not like a romance novel. Guys usually needed at least a little guidance on what felt good, at least the first few times.
Not our Mr. Hamilton.
He had known exactly what I needed and when I needed it. It was as if he was put on this earth for the sole purpose of giving me pleasure. Who am I to argue with intelligent design? Or the Big Bang. Speaking of bang…
We never actually had sex. And that was, kind of, well, nice. I loved that I still had so much to look forward to with him; so much we had yet to learn about each other. And if last night was any indication, oh hell.
My tummy growled. I needed sustenance.
I attempted to brush out the sex hair on the back of my head, finally giving up and sweeping the whole mess into two pigtails. I washed my face again, removing the traces of mascara and was debating on whether to shower now or after breakfast when I finally noticed the hickey.
A mother loving hickey! I was thirty-three for Christ's sake!
Thirty-three and in pigtails…
Shut it.
There was a hickey on the side of my neck the size of a quarter. I looked like I had argued with a Hoover and the Hoover won. Jesus. This is what you got for messing around with a twenty-four-year-old.
I opened the door quickly, preparing to confront Jack about this behavior, and explain to him that a grown woman simply cannot go around with hickeys on her neck, when I saw him in my bed. In my bed.
I softened when I noticed that he was sound asleep again, the sheets pulled low on his torso, arms up behind his head, mouth slightly open.
Are they shooting an Abercrombie ad in your bedroom today?
He was so pretty.
I quickly scooped up his shirt from last night, which smelled divine, and buttoned it up. I grabbed a pair of panties from the dresser and quietly stepped out into the hall. I wanted to let him sleep a little longer and I needed coffee.
Once in the hall, I bent down to put on my panties when I heard Holly say from behind me, "That's a view I never need to see again."
I quickly pulled them on home and turned to face her with a sheepish grin. "Sorry," I said with a wink, letting her know I was not sorry at all.
She pointed at the stairs. "Kitchen, two minutes. Coffee's made. I want the details that I didn't actually already hear myself."
You are in trouble.
***
I sat in the kitchen with my best friend, with the new "It Boy" asleep in the room above me, and tried to explain the grand events that had taken place last night in the greater L.A. area.
Holly listened as I recounted some of the sweeter moments, holding up her hand when I delved too deeply into details. She reminded me that she had heard the bulk of what had taken place and I apologized repeatedly. She said not to worry, she and Nick had made popcorn and perched at the top of the stairs most of the night, listening.
I sat in one of her comfortable armchairs in the breakfast nook, with my legs underneath me, drowning in Jack's shirt and in his scent. I was nibbling at a piece of toast, nursing a cup of coffee, when I heard stirring from above me. Holly heard him as well, and as his feet slapped on the stairs, she made herself scarce.
"Grace, I do believe you are blushing." She smiled at me, grabbing her keys and leaving for the market through the back door.
I sat up, then leaned back again, and then arranged myself in what felt like a natural pose. As I continued to struggle to find a cute sitting position, I heard, "Sheridan, do you have to pee?"
"Huh, what?" I stammered, surprised to find he was already in the kitchen and looking at me strangely. He was dressed in his jeans from last night, barefoot and bare-chested. His jeans were hanging low and he looked like disheveled sex.
"Why are you wiggling about so?" he inquired, opening cupboards, looking for something. He picked up the coffee pot and gestured to my mug.
"Forget it," I answered, flustered. I got up to get him a mug and I found that I was nervous all of a sudden.
Maybe this was it. This was one night stand time. This was when the awkward conversation would start, the promises to get together that would never take place. This was when the tension would begin. Dammit. I cared too much already. As I reached up to grab the mug, I felt his hand on my behind.
"Hurry up with that coffee, you little screamer, and then you can fix your man a proper breakfast," he said seriously, giving my ass a smack and then pressing his lips to my neck.
I smiled into the cupboard. We were good.
Chapter Fourteen
I made him breakfast and he watched. Eggs, scrambled. Toast, slightly burned, the way he liked it—with marmalade, like Paddington Bear. Juice
and
coffee.
While I cooked, he snuck kisses to me every time I walked near him. He tried to peek beneath his shirt, which I was currently wearing. I kept him away, although the toast might have been a little more burnt than he would have liked as I was fighting him off somewhere over by the Mr. Coffee.
I was famished myself, and we ate at the breakfast bar together, albeit on opposite sides. I felt it was necessary to keep two feet of granite between The Brit's roving hands and me. When he finished, he groaned, patting his full belly and letting out a loud burp.
"Gross." I grimaced, placing our plates in the sink.
"Get used to it, Sheridan. I am disgusting," he said, crossing over to meet me by the dishwasher. "Piggy piggy piggy." He laughed as he pointed at himself. He was looking devious again, his fingers reaching out to touch my bare legs and migrate north.
"Seriously, Hamilton, I can't take anymore. I need a shower and I actually have things to do. Not all of us can slack full time," I scolded, backing away but finding myself in a corner.
Trapped. Damn.
"Are you really telling me you want none of this?" he teased, sticking his tongue out and wiggling it at me like a cheeky schoolboy. My stomach fell out of me and ran out the front door.
"Nice tongue. What are you, thirteen? You're disgusting." I laughed in spite of myself. "And yes, I'm telling you exactly that," I answered, my voice wavering. I was trying to put on a stern face, but he could tell I didn't have the guts to back it up. My guts, you see, having just left through the front door.
"I didn't hear you complaining last night or this morning about this very tongue," he said mischievously, moving closer. I pulled myself up onto the counter behind me, the only place I could go.
Bad idea.
"What about these?" he asked, holding up his magic hands, waving his fingers at me. "Surely you wouldn't object to these, would you?"
"Umm…I, hmm…what?" I was having trouble following the conversation.
Tell him not to call you Shirley…
He positioned himself between my legs and nudged them open. I stared at him; he was a vision. I do not have the vocabulary necessary to communicate how devastatingly handsome the man truly is. I had seen him in a suit and tie, his scruffy hipster uniform complete, even his own birthday suit. Yet there is nothing in the world that was more excruciatingly, painfully, pinch-yourself-to-make-sure-you're-not-dreaming beautiful than the sight of Jack Hamilton, hair standing on end, shirtless and shoeless, in jeans, between my legs.
My breath caught in my throat as he slid his hands up the outside of my thighs and hooked his thumbs around the band of my panties. I regained a little control.
"No, No, Sweet Nuts. I can't. I have calls to ret—" I tried to say, his mouth interrupting me with a kiss.
"Mmm hmm," he responded, his mouth moving down my neck, his hands slowly tugging at my panties and sliding them over my knees.
"And I have a meeting this afternoon with my contractor…" I tried again, noticing that my panties were now on the floor.
"Mmm hmm. Contractor. Got it," he whispered, locking eyes with me as he spread my legs further. He pulled me to the edge of the counter and quite deliberately bent one leg and hooked it around his waist, giving him better access to me. His fingers touched me and I struggled to keep my focus.
"And I also have to…oh, God…I have a project due that I need…oh, wow…a project that I…fuck, that's good…Oh!" I cried out, abandoning all reason when his fingers slipped amazingly into me.
His thumb pressed against me. It was instant. I held onto his shoulders as I almost immediately climaxed and then began another. I had always been lucky enough to be a multiples kind of gal, but never like this. He kept me close, watching my face as I came again and again in rapid succession. His eyes burned into me, that sexy half-grin giving way to a furrowed brow as he worked harder to keep me where I needed to be.
"Right here, Grace. Keep your eyes on me." He groaned. I came once more, our eyes locked as I screamed his name.
I slumped over onto him, wrapping my arms around his neck and collapsing fully.
"You're too good to me," I whispered in his ear, kissing his neck.
"I think that goes both ways, Nuts Girl."
I giggled at my nickname. "Why don't we finish this in the shower, George." I smiled, hooking my fingers through the waistband on his jeans, giving him a firm squeeze through the fabric and pulling him towards the stairs. He snarled and chased me into the living room. I started up the stairs before him, giving him a peek at my nakedness beneath his shirt.
"Grab my panties, will you? I don't think we should push Holly any further than we already have," I fired back over my shoulder on my way upstairs. "Meet you in the shower."
I couldn't wait to have my Brit naked and wet.
***
After the shower, I insisted that Jack leave me alone long enough to dry my hair. Holly had come home from the market, and after banging on the door for several minutes to no avail, finally shoved a note under it saying that I had an audition at four o'clock if I could make it. I was meeting with the contractor at my new house at five-thirty, so it worked out perfectly.
It was an audition for a cop show and I was reading for the part of a crooked lawyer. After finishing with my hair, I had to shoo Jack out of the bathroom and away from my flat iron. He had gotten it in his head that he should help me get ready and would be in charge of my hair. After I vetoed that idea, I printed off my sides and was busily making notes on the character when I noticed that he was making up the bed. He seemed to be having trouble with the bottom sheet. He couldn't get it to lie very smoothly.
"You never make your bed at home, do you?" I asked, watching him attempt this.
"No, no reason to. You just get back in it at the end of the day. Why bother?" he answered, staring at the corners, trying to get them to match up.
"Take off all the pillows first, then you can see all the corners and it'll help you match them up," I instructed, admiring this technique. That wasn't technically true, I was admiring the way his ass looked in his jeans, but that was neither here nor there. He began taking pillows off, and then I noticed that it got much quieter in the room.
"Grace, do you have something to tell me?" he asked.
"Hmm?" I questioned, looking up from my notes.
Shit.
He was holding one of the magazines with the Time stories. He'd found my hidden stash under my bed.
Shit. Shit.
"I can't believe it. You fangirl!" he teased, pointing at me with a glint in his eye.
"No, no, I'm not really. Holly gave them to me, she made me read them! I didn't want to…I…" I stammered, trying to figure a way out of this that wouldn't leave me looking like a total stalker.
"Grace. Don't lie to me," he admonished, looking serious.
I walked over to the corner and stood in it, facing the wall, looking like the guy at the end of The Blair Witch Project. "OK, I admit it. I started reading it because I promised Holly," I confessed, feeling my cheeks flame.
"And then?" he asked, walking over to me.
"Ummm. Now I'm reading it because it's interesting?" I asked more than answered.
"Grace…" he warned.
"I'm reading it because I like it. I more than like it, OK! I, I freaking love it!" I wailed, placing my head against the wall in shame. I waited for him to tease me, to taunt me, but there was silence.
Uh oh, now he thinks you are only interested in him because he's playing Joshua.
I spun around quickly, ready to show him that nothing could be further from the truth. He was sitting on the end of the bed, laughing.
"Why are you laughing?" I asked, walking over to where he sat.
"I love that you felt so guilty that you stood in the corner!" He laughed again. "But this does mean the official tryst is off, Grace."
"Well, technically, since when I met you I had yet to read anything, the tryst should still be on."
"You got me on a technicality, huh? All right then, tryst on. Only if you agree to never call me Joshua when we're in bed," he offered.
"Agreed. But could you do something for me?" I asked sweetly, moving closer to him. In my head, I was secretly rejoicing that he talked about us in bed like it was going to be something we did a lot.
I was standing in front of him in the robe I always wear when I'm getting ready. His hands came up around my waist and I leaned closer to his right ear.
"Next time, ya know, when we're together?" I whispered, planting a kiss on his neck below his ear. He smelled all soapy and warm.
"Mmm hmm?" he answered back, his hands clutching at my hips.
"And things are getting, ya know, really hot?" I continued, switching to the other ear, kissing his neck there as well.
"Mmm hmm?" he said, his hands moving to the tie that held my robe together, starting to pull it apart. His breath was growing heavier by the second. I had him right where I wanted him.
"Could you maybe, possibly…"
"Yes?" he asked, pushing open my robe and planting his mouth in between my breasts, beginning to kiss me.
"Call me Penelope? You know, your woman in the first story? I've always wanted to work in a hat store…" I finished, holding perfectly still. I closed my eyes and my body tensed…I was sooo going to get it for that one. He was still for exactly four seconds, and then he started blowing raspberries all over my chest.
"Grace, that is rubbish! I knew you were as insane as all the rest! C'mere!"
I squealed as he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. I was dying, I was laughing so hard. He carried me kicking, screaming and laughing all the way downstairs and into the kitchen. I was shouting out ideas the whole time through my laughter.
"Maybe," I wheezed, "you could be all Super Sexy Scientist Guy, wear a lab coat? Or maybe," I choked, "you could explain the space-time continuum? Or maybe…oh, God, I am hilarious," I began before screeching, "maybe you could just take me away in your little time machine? Hahaha!"
I was laughing so hard I couldn't see straight. This was fine, because I was upside down over the shoulder of an enraged Brit. However, the way he was playing grab-ass the whole way down the stairs made me think he wasn't too upset.
He carried me into the kitchen, still screaming in laughter. I didn't even notice Holly sitting at the table with Nick. He went straight to the freezer, grabbed a bag of frozen Green Giant corn niblets, set me on the counter, ripped the bag open with his teeth, pulled my panties straight out like a cash drawer and dumped them in.
I screamed, feeling the corn sprinkle everywhere. In my frenzy to get at the corn, I fell off the counter and onto the floor, landing with a loud splat. I rolled around in a frozen corn induced fit, trying to get up, but slipping on niblets every time I got my feet underneath me. Jack was doubled over in absolute hysterics and I saw Holly and Nick peering over the counter at me. I was still on the floor with corn everywhere.
"You are a pig!" I screamed, finally scrambling to my feet, niblets glued to my thighs and other delicate parts.
"I told you so! And your sense of humor is so corny!" he yelled back. I saw Holly and Nick shake their heads at us.
Nick pointed at my hoohah and said, "Is that what you call cornpone?"
"Hey, your favorite show is on, Grace. It's The Corny Collins Show!" Holly chimed in.
"What's your favorite Poison song, Nick?" Jack asked.
"I don't know, Jack. What's yours?" Nick answered back, vaudeville style.
"Every Rose has its Corn!" he shouted, as they both waved around jazz hands.
Mother fucking jazz hands…
I glared at all of them as they laughed, making my way back towards the stairs, shaking out niblets the entire time. "Whatever, Hamilton. You were an infant when that song came out," I mumbled.
"What's that, Sheridan?" he yelled as I walked up the stairs.
"Oh, suck it!" I yelled back. I could hear them all laughing as I went in for my second shower of the day.
Every Rose has its Corn… funny.
***
After that, I refused to see Jack. I did communicate with him through a series of notes passed under the door of my bedroom. I agreed to meet him later at my new house, and then we were going out for dinner. I was excited, as this would be our first official "date". It was weird that he had already had his mouth on my lady business before our first date, but then again, nothing was conventional about us, so why start now?
After my audition, I went straight to my new house. I was excited to see how things were coming along since I had been here last week. Things were almost done. They were just at the end of refinishing the hardwood floors and tiling the kitchen. Many of my new appliances had just been delivered and were being installed, and most of the crew had already gone for the day. I walked with Chad, the contractor, making notes here and there on things that were still being finished.
"Hey, Sheridan, where are you?"
My heart lurched at the sound of his voice. Even though it had only been a few hours since I'd seen him, I'd missed him.
This is getting serious.
No kidding.
"In here!" I yelled, and listened to him walk towards us. When he came around the corner, I grinned at the sight of him. I let my eyes travel over him. The late afternoon California sun was streaming through the windows, making him glow. Black leather jacket, green t-shirt, black jeans, and…the ball cap. Dammit, the ball cap would have to go. I needed to see those curls, they were just too good. He smiled, biting down gently on his lower lip, and I nodded to him as I continued talking to Chad.
"So, the colors for the painter have already been chosen and I taped the swatches up in each room. Also, there are some scuff marks on the tile in the shower that have yet to be removed. Can we take care of that this weekend?" I motioned to Jack to follow us as we finished our tour and he tagged along. He was smiling at me with that devious grin and I wondered what he was thinking.
He watched me as I walked around the house, making notes with the contractor on things that they were still working on. I noticed he was eying my legs with great interest. I was still wearing what I had worn to my audition, black pencil skirt, black turtleneck, wide red belt and red pumps, very 40's style. I had my hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail and I was still wearing my glasses. I winked at him over the rims when I was discussing the new Viking stove with Chad and he winked back. I felt his eyes on me as we walked around and I might have put a little extra sway in my hips. I knew he was watching, you see…
By the time Chad had left, the rest of the crew had disappeared and it was just Jack and I. Most of the lights were off and he'd wandered back into the house while I saw Chad out. Then, I walked through the rooms, looking for him.
"Hey, Hamilton, where are you?" I called out.
"In here, Nuts Girl," he answered. He was in my bedroom.
I walked in and saw him looking at the walls where I had instructed the painter to test out different swatches of paint color.
"Hey," I said softly
"Hey, yourself," he answered.
We stared at each other from across the room for a moment.
"Is it crazy that I missed you, even for that short amount of time?" I asked boldly, putting it right out there.
"Is it crazy that I missed you and I almost called Holly to find out where your audition was so I could pick you up?" he answered.
"Is it crazy that I want to kiss you so badly right now I almost can't stand it?" I countered, walking across the room towards him.
"Is it crazy that when I saw you in that insanely sexy outfit that I wanted to ravage you on that pile of furniture pads in the other room?" he finished, crossing to me and meeting me halfway.
"Is it crazy that—" I couldn't finish, his mouth was on mine.
Is it crazy that you are probably in love with this guy after only a few weeks?
Yep. Apeshit, batshit, insane crazy in love. Shit.
Just don't tell him that…
Don't worry.
