Текст книги "Doing It for Love"

Dedication

Acknowledgments

By Cassie Mae

About the Author

The Editor’s Corner

Excerpt from No Interest in Love

Chapter 1

AUGUST

Not pregnant.

Praise Jesus.

I chuck the negative test in the bathroom trash with a shimmy and a shake. Pregnant at twenty-two was not what I pictured when I did my aptitude test seven years ago. Those results said I’d be some sort of performance artist. I pictured myself famous, in all the Broadway plays, living in my penthouse suite with my best friend, Theresa, and having weekend nookies with Chase Crawford. Kids were on the bucket list under: hell yes…when I’m married. Obviously, I was a dreamer at fifteen. Now that I’m more a realist, I’ve learned to be happy with whatever life has to offer me.

But I am happy that it decided not to offer me a baby right now.

I start the water on the shower because I feel like I peed all over myself when I attempted to aim on the stick. Aunt Flo is fourteen days late, and I’ve been avoiding Landon and his semen. Not that he’s noticed.

If sex was a three-course meal, Landon and I would be the peas and carrots. We’re good together, but we’re still the vegetables. Basically we do it when there’s a commercial on, when there is no food in the fridge, or it’s someone’s birthday. It’s okay…that’s what happens when you move past the honeymoon stage.

We used to be strawberries and whipped cream. Luxurious dessert, grinding on each other on public dance floors, car sex, kitchen sex, against the wall sex, balcony sex—which was an epic fail, by the way—and the always disastrous shower sex. Disaster because our bathtub is made for one person only, and so lying down ended with a faucet to the butthole and standing up made for slippery recoveries. But we were strawberries and whipped cream, so we’d laugh it off, not let it break the mood, jump into bed, and keep at it.

I refuse to think we’ve become raisin bran—the sex you have only because you have needs to take care of—despite what Theresa says. She’s permanently the palate cleanser between courses in her own sex life, and she’s not budging anytime soon. But she just hasn’t found her Landon yet.

Anyway, back to Landon not noticing the lack of sex. It’s because we’re so busy all the time. He works all day at a call center then he goes and films all night. He’s a director-in-training—got an award for his last movie and a grant to make the one he’s working on now. So he comes home smelling like sweaty socks—which he loves to leave on the floor in the living room. That’s what peas and carrots do, though.

It’s funny, for so long I wanted to know the story after the happy ending. What happens to the couple once they find each other, consummate their relationship, and get past their demons? Now that I’m in that story, I get why no one talks about it. I’m in love, so it pretty much trumps all the other crap. At least, it has so far. Despite Landon’s dirty laundry—literal—and his late nights—also literal—he makes me laugh. I’ve never had so much fun with another person. Even being vegetables, sex—when we have it—is fun. Probably why I wish we had it more.

Better check the effectiveness of my birth control first, though.

A hand whips back the shower curtain, and I scream like a banshee and chuck my washcloth at the attacker.

“Sweet mother,” I say, holding my heart. “What the hell?”

Landon slowly peels the washcloth from the bill of his The Nightmare Before Christmas hat. He’s wearing his matching graphic tee, a red stain on the upper right sleeve. Probably from the pizza he had to gobble between his job and his shoot this afternoon.

“Liz,” he says, holding the pregnancy test between two fingers. “What is this?”

“It’s a negative pee test. Don’t worry.”

“Did you think you were pregnant?” He chokes on the word.

“Yes, but I’m not.” I lean forward and kiss his shocked lips. “So don’t worry.”

He lets out this large breath, chucking the test back in the trash. “Fine, but you must promise on your precious iPod that you will tell me next time you think you are.”

I hold my hand to the square. “I vow to dispose of all my late-period secrets.” I drop my arm. “Now may I shower?”

“How long you going to be?”

“Normal.”

“So till the hot water is out.”

I put a finger to my nose, and he pulls his cap off. His shirt goes next.

“Joining me?” I ask, my lady nethers perking up. It’s not even my birthday. What a sexy surprise.

“Yeah, I won’t have time in the morning.”

“Oh.” Calm down, girls, it’s just one of those “saving water” things, and not because I’m naked, he’s naked, and we’re going to be wet and slippery.

His cold hand splays across my stomach when he steps in, and I refuse to let my nethers get their hopes up again.

“You okay?” he asks, scruff tickling my neck.

“Yeah, why?”

“Paint me paranoid,” he says, backing me into his chilled body. I move the water so he warms up. “But I think something’s wrong. And I’m not letting you out of this shower till you tell me.”

A twitch of a smile finds itself on my mouth. “I’m fine.”

“Good thing you’re naked.” He taps my ass. “Your pants wouldn’t stand a chance.”

I shake my head, biting back my laughter. “You’re a tease.”

“Why?”

He knows why. The last time we showered together, he held me close like this, got me all revved up, then grabbed the soap, washed himself, and left for work. It’s not his fault. I did the same thing the time before that. Again, comes back to being the veggies of the sex meal.

“Okay. The guessing game,” he says when I don’t answer. “I’ll play, but you know I don’t like it.” He gently rocks me. “Your vampire show didn’t record?”

I snort a laugh into the water. “I haven’t checked. But it better have.”

He swipes my hair off my neck, and I feel his smile against my skin. “Hmm…the Jets have no shot at making the playoffs. I feel your pain. I cried it all out last night. Now it’s your turn.”

I playfully elbow him in the stomach, but despite my abuse, Landon’s arms tighten around me, thumb reassuringly rubbing my hipbone.

“No…I think I know what this is really about.” He pulls at the skin by my bellybutton. I raise an eyebrow because there is nothing wrong. I’m just horny.

“Did you want a baby?” he asks, and my jaw drops.

“Huh?”

“It’s okay if you did. I…I mean, I want to have kids with you someday.”

Someday…yes. But not today. I grin at the scared-as-hell look on his face. That’s the great thing about the longtime relationship. I know his looks. I know his smiles, his frowns, his laughs. I reach to him, and his hand slips through my wet blond hair, hugs the back of my head, and pulls me into his shoulder. I lock my arms around his torso, ignore the sweet buzzing all over my stomach and heart and sides. His fingers massage my scalp as he rocks me.

“I like the idea of having a permanent piece of you,” I admit into his wet skin.

“You already have a permanent piece of me.” One of his hands slides down the length of my back. “Hell, you have the whole thing.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Okay…if you really want…I’ll impregnate you. Open up.” He pushes at my thighs, and I smack his shoulders.

“Pretty sure I want us to be married first. And I don’t know…older.” Like years ahead of us. We can barely afford to feed ourselves.

“You…you said married.”

“I did.”

I push back on his chest, and he scratches his dark hair. “Just letting you know I’m not freaking out about it.”

“This is not freaking out about it?” I say, circling my finger at his face. It could be the steam from the shower making it smoke red, but it sure doesn’t seem that way.

“I let it slide like it was nothing.”

“You did not.”

He growls, playfully nipping at my neck. “Well, I’m not freaking out,” he muffles against my skin, creating goose bumps up and down my spine. “Because, you know, we’re in the spot.”

“Huh?”

“You know, the spot.”

“In the shower?” I laugh when his red face darkens a shade.

“No, I mean…I love you. And it’s not like I’m going to break up with you. And I’m pretty sure you want to be stuck with me.”

“You think we’re stuck? That’s ‘the spot’?”

“No. Shit, it’s coming out wrong.”

“I don’t even know what you’re trying to say.” I laugh, bending down to adjust the heat on the water.

“I’m saying there’s no reason for me to freak out because I want to marry you. I think, you know, we should get married.”

My hand stops dead on the tap, and I crick my neck to catch his expression. He’s gone from red wine to white in the blink of an eye, water dripping from his dark hair down his forehead, and he frantically wipes it away. Then he reaches for me, pulls me up against him, hiding his face.

“Um…what did you just say?” I croak, my heart suddenly beating out of my skull. A tidal wave rushes through my stomach, and my nails dig into his shoulders to make sure I’m not dreaming or something.

He slowly backs away from my neck, eyes wide as grapefruits. “I didn’t mean…oh shit…it wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

He falls forward, pushing me against the cold tile and hitting his forehead on the wall near my cheek.

“What wasn’t supposed to happen?” I ask through a small laugh. Seconds ago, he was boasting about not freaking out, and now he’s gone bat crazy.

“I had it all planned,” he grumbles into the tile. The echoes bounce off my shoulder. “I even bought a suit. Outside patio dinner, clear night for stars…I was going to pull out all the romantic stops, and it just falls out when we’re in the shower.”

“Landon, are you being serious? I can never tell.”

“Because I’m never serious?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

He lifts his head, eyes meeting mine, and a nervous twitch pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Will you marry me?”

My heart’s still thumping through my brain.

“The test was negative, Landon,” I try to joke, but it comes out wobbly. “You don’t have to—”

“I know.” His palms cradle my face, drops of water falling from his eyelashes. “Will you marry me?”

His misty lips make contact with my nose. I’m still trying to process if he’s serious or not.

“Really? This isn’t because of that pregnancy test, is it?”

“I was planning on asking a few weeks ago. Cross my heart, the ring’s been in this apartment for at least a month.”

My eyes flick back and forth between his, searching, searching, searching for a lie, a joke, a tease, something. But it’s all honesty and nerves and love. So much love I find myself slipping on the wall, losing strength in my knees.

“You are serious.”

“I love you, Liz. Marry me? Please?”

I feel a smile tug on my mouth. The water’s getting too cold to stay underneath, but my body temperature rises, my skin boiling under his touch. I grip his forearms, holding myself steady while he continues to cup my cheeks.

I love every bit of this man, every piece of his heart and soul and mind and body. So even though I wasn’t expecting it this way, even though I was just internally moaning about not getting any spontaneous loving, I practically shout my answer at him.

“Yes.”

“Yes?” He pulls back, the stream of water hitting him square in the face. I laugh and bat it away from him. “Yes…you said yes?”

“Yes, I said yes.”

A large relieved breath leaves his mouth before he presses it to mine. Landon’s arms circle my torso, pull me up against his now hot and slick body, and every ounce of disappointment I was feeling evaporates with the shower steam.

“I thought I royally botched that.” He laughs, and a wave of minty breath travels from his mouth to mine.

“You did,” I tease before closing the gap between our lips again. “But I love you.”

He tickles just under my arm, enough for me to jerk and slip in the tub. But his arms stay strong around my waist, holding me steady as his tongue glides across mine. Happy and excited whimpers somersault in my throat, and I know Landon loves when I make those noises so I exaggerate them a bit for his benefit.

His scruff grazes the hollow by my shoulder as he grips my right breast and slides down my body. More of those noises run wild over my lips, now one hundred percent legitimate, echoing around the shower walls. Landon’s hands are all over me, slipping over the cooling water cascading over our bodies. His mouth keeps going down, down, down with aggressive kisses and nibbles, and my knees shake so bad I’m not sure how I’m standing.

Hell. Yes. Spontaneous nookie! I let my mind forget that it’s a given since we just got engaged. I’m going to ride the hell out of him in the shower just like we used to. And after we slip, we’ll keep on going in the bedroom.

I grip the top of his head and yank him up, wanting to kiss his mouth, his cheeks, his eyelids, his chin, his neck, his shoulders…but I grab too hard, and he yelps an “Ouch!”

“Oops,” I say, kissing my fingertips and pressing them to his hair.

He rubs his head, water trickling down his upturned lips. “Didn’t know you wanted it rough.” His hand tangles in the wet strands sticking to my upper back, and he tugs enough to expose my neck. His lips tease and tickle just under my jaw, and I feel him smile right before his teeth dig in, and he sucks…hard.

“Stop!” I laugh, smacking his shoulders, propelling water in my eyes. “No hickey, no hickey! I have work tomorrow. Landon, I mean it!”

He suctions to me as I giggle and squirm underneath his strong hands. I manage to slide my hand down, lock tight around his arousal, and squeeze.

“Drop it,” I threaten, slightly tugging. Landon laughs against my neck.

“You know that’ll only encourage me,” he says, thrusting into my hand. I quickly let go and spin around, pretending to get away, but I’m secretly raving about his arms catching me before I get too far.

“Oh, back entry!” he shouts when my butt smashes against him. I shush him in case the neighbors we share a wall with are in their bathroom. His voice lowers. “It’s about time you let me do this. And to think, all I needed to do was propose.”

He playfully jabs my left ass cheek, and I smack at his hands on my hips.

“You come near that hole, and I will flex my ass muscles so hard Little Landon will need six weeks to recover.”

I shoot a wicked grin over my shoulder, and he gasps at me.

“Little?” He thrusts against my butt cheek again. “You should call him Lord Landon.”

“Because he rules your brain?”

“He rules the Land of Liz.” Landon spins me around before I can even roll my eyes at him, but it’s so slick in the tub we almost topple to the floor. I grip his shoulders while he holds the walls, and after we catch our breaths from the avoided catastrophe, Landon reaches around me to turn the water off.

“Bedroom?” I offer, and Lady Nethers jumps for joy when he nods, taking my hand and helping me out of the tub. As soon as both our feet hit the solid bath mat, he pulls me onto his waist, not bothering with a towel.

“I just washed the sheets!” I shout as he throws my wet, naked body on the bed. He gives me a wide smile before sliding on top of me, and he’s so slick he slips right inside. My eyes pop open from the unexpected entry.

“Oops,” he says this time, but I don’t think he’s really that sorry about it. I start laughing and tighten my legs around his waist. Never mind about the sheets. We’re not having peas and carrots sex right now. We’re having engagement sex. And I like seeing all the water drip from the tips of his dark hair, onto my cheeks and nose, and past my lips to my tongue. His playful gray eyes gradually dilate as he moves.

Laughter turns to deep sighs as Landon wipes my face free of all the water. He presses a soft kiss between my eyebrows.

“You’re going to be my wife,” he whispers, like a prayer, a wish, a dream he never thought would come to life. My heart thumps between our bodies, thumps against his, answering his beats with mine.

“Mrs. Wangford.” I bite my smile back, but it’s no use, Landon pauses above me, his whole face lighting up.

“Hell yeah! Now you can’t make fun of it.”

“I’ll say it in a seductive voice when I get my driver’s license.” I drop my voice an octave. “Wangford.”

“That’s so sexy,” he teases, biting my earlobe. I involuntarily giggle, goose bumps shooting up and down my entire body. That’s totally my spot, and he knows it, so he runs his hands across my puckered skin while he nibbles.

“Okay…you have to stop laughing,” he says.

“Can’t be helped.” I kiss his shoulder when he bumps it against my lips. “I really like it.”

“I know.” He bites again, causing more laughter and goose bumps. “But when you laugh, it does things. Down there.”

“I know it doesn’t hurt,” I say, then flex my Kegel muscles. He groans.

“No, it’s just…we haven’t done this in eleven days.”

“You’re counting?” When was the last time we counted?

He ignores me, resting an elbow on the pillow, and using the heel of his hand to hold his head up. “On most occasions I purposely make you laugh because of how it feels.” His lip twitches upward. “It’s like a hug.”

I stifle a snort, and he growls to the ceiling.

“Stop laughing!”

“I can’t help it.”

“You keep laughing, and I’m gonna shoot off before I can do my move.”

“I’ve felt your move,” I tease. “You need a new one.”

His jaw drops, and his stroking fingers turn to tickle monsters up and down, down and up my ribs, until he grips my sides and pulls me on his lap. My knees sink into the duvet next to his hips, and I run my nails through his damp hair. The stars in his gray irises seem to light the entire bedroom, echoing the moon dancing across the bedsheets.

I can’t believe I get a whole lifetime of this.

“Me neither,” he says, and a much smaller laugh tumbles out of my mouth. I had no idea my thoughts escaped me.

Landon’s lips meet mine softly, then harder, then all over. My laughter, my mind, and my body drift away into just one of the many beautiful moments I get to experience with this man. He feels so good, and the last time we had sex like this feels like a lifetime ago.

I’m just getting into my rhythm when I halt mid-hump with a gasp.

“What, what, what?” Landon says underneath me, sweat and shower water covering his skin.

“We need a condom.”

He looks at me like I just spouted Greek. “Huh?”

“A condom, Landon. I stopped taking my pill a week ago.”

“Why’d you do that?”

“I didn’t want to hurt the baby…if there was one.”

“Oh.” He closes his eyes and nods. “Okay. Condom. Do we even have one?”

“Maybe…?” I’m being optimistic. I think I tossed them out during my last sex drawer cleanup.

He slowly lifts me off him, and we both groan when we leave each other. I roll off the mattress, probably not looking so sexy with my naked squat and crawl to the naughty drawer in my nightstand.

“I could just pull out,” Landon suggests as I dig around the lubricant, the sex tarot cards we’ve used maybe once, and the blindfolds we use much more than that, but not lately. There’s not a single condom or any other form of birth control in here—unless you count the picture of my parents that must’ve slipped through the cracks from the drawer above it.

“I don’t know. I think I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

“But…we don’t have a condom.”

“Maybe Theresa does.” Actually, I’m almost positive she does. I put the picture of my parents back in the right drawer and get to my feet. “I’ll be right back.”

“Your nipple is poking out,” he says, pointing at my left boob as I shrug into my fuzzy purple robe.

“Thanks. Keep it up, will ya?” I point back at “Lord Landon” and speed-walk out of the room, out my front door, down the hall, and rap on Theresa’s door.

And just my luck, she doesn’t answer. I slump back, lady parts laden with disappointment.

“No?” Landon asks, still hard and ready on the bed.

“She’s not home.”

“I’ll pull out,” he says, grabbing the tie on my robe and ripping it open.

“Let me get a towel.” I push him off before we get so into it I won’t care until we have to clean it. Then I’ll really care.

After placing the towel on the bed, Landon kisses me, probably knowing I’ve dried up and I’m losing whatever mojo I had ten minutes ago.

But we just got engaged, so no way in hell am I not having sex tonight.