Текст книги "Pucked Up "
Автор книги: Helena Hunting
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CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
FLASHES OF BEAVE
“Oh, poop,” Sunny mutters.
From where I’m sitting on the couch, with Sunny straddling me, I have an awesome view of Waters’ horrified expression. If it wasn’t an interruption to our make-up sex and the love professions, I’d think it was funny. Right now I’m annoyed more than anything.
Waters turns away. “What the actual fuck is going on?”
“Miller and I are talking things out.”
It’s pretty clear there’s no talking happening here, so I’m not sure why Sunny bothers with the lie, or why Waters asks in the first place.
“You’re fucking naked! On my goddamn couch! Butterson, you better get your hands off my damn sister or I’m gonna rebreak your fucking face.”
“You will do no such thing!” Sunny yells back.
I lean over and grab my shirt from the floor. Sunny holds out her arms and I pull it over her head so she’s not naked anymore. Waters and I have seen enough of each other’s bare asses in the locker room.
I help Sunny off my lap. My dick flops onto my leg with a wet smack. Sunny makes a face and gestures to my lap. “That’s messy, isn’t it?”
“So help me God, Butterson, if you get your jizz all over my couch—”
“Enough! I’ve had it up to here with the threats, Alex!” Sunny gestures above her head. My shirt lifts to the point where Alex and I get a beaver shot.
“Keep your hands down!” He puts one of his own in front of his face.
“Don’t tell me what to do!”
I place my hand gently on her back. “You’re showing off your cookie, sweets.”
“Oh.” She drops her hand and props it on her hip instead. “You still don’t get to tell me what to do, Alex.”
“What are you two even doing here? Since when have I ever said it was okay to use my condo as a fuck pad?”
“We came here to talk.”
“Yeah, well, that sure as hell didn’t look like talking to me. Butterson, put some damn clothes on!”
“Don’t talk to Miller like that!” Sunny shouts.
“It’s my damn condo. I’ll talk to him however I want to. Get dressed, Sunny. I’m taking you home.”
“I’m not going home with you, Alex.”
“You don’t think so?” he challenges.
“You wanna be belligerent with me, you go right ahead, Waters. But don’t think I’m gonna let you talk to Sunny like that.” I grab my pants from the floor and jam my legs into them.
“No one is fighting!” Sunny shouts.
Waters puffs out his chest like he’s getting ready to take me on. Sunny streaks over and gets right in his face. She’s shaking. “I am so done with this overprotective crap. I’m almost twenty-one. I can make my own decisions, and that includes what I do and who I do it with.”
“It doesn’t include fucking on my damn couch.”
“Are you even serious with this, Alex? How much of a hypocrite can you be? You had sex with Miller’s sister in your team locker room during a game! Everyone walked in on it! Everyone! The whole team talked about it for weeks!” She pauses to breathe. “And we weren’t fucking! We were having make-up sex because you keep interfering and messing up my damn life.”
Waters looks shocked, whether because of the outburst, Sunny swearing, or her standing up to him I can’t be sure, but I want to snap a picture of the look on his face and frame it.
“I’m not trying to mess up your life; I’m trying to keep you from getting hurt.”
“How are you keeping me from getting hurt?”
“I—”
She cuts him off. It’s epic. “By trying to run my life? By overreacting every time you see a picture of Miller with anyone but me? By breaking my boyfriend’s nose? You’re not protecting me, Alex, you’re being an a-hole. Have you even apologized to Miller for what you did?”
His lips mash into a thin line, his eyes darting to me and back to Sunny.
She throws her hands in the air, and we narrowly miss another beaver shot. “Honestly! You promised you’d apologize!”
Waters shoves his hands in his pockets. “I haven’t had a chance.”
“Well, here he is.” She gestures to me. “The opportunity is yours.”
Waters stares at a spot above my head. “I’m sorry I broke your face.” He doesn’t sound like he means it. Not even a little.
Sunny calls him on it. “That’s the worst apology ever. Try again.”
He heaves a sigh and runs a hand through his hair. This time he looks me in the eye. “I’m sorry for being an asshole.”
Sunny motions for him to keep going.
“And for breaking your nose.”
When it’s clear she expects more, he rolls his head on his shoulders. “And for interfering. I just want what’s best for Sunny. She’s my only sister. Up until I met Violet, I wasn’t a very good role model. I guess maybe I was trying to make up for it, and I took it too far. I know you care about her, Miller. I can see that. I haven’t been very fair. So, yeah. I’m sorry. Can we call a truce?”
He steps forward and holds out his hand. I meet him halfway, then think about where my fingers have been. “Uh, maybe props would be better.” I make a fist and hold it up.
His brow furrows, and then he makes this face. He gets what I mean. “I had that coming, didn’t I?”
“After the locker room? You sure fucking do.”
We bump fists.
“See? That wasn’t so bad was it? I mean, you’re gonna be brothers anyway, so you might as well start getting along, right?” Sunny gives Waters a quick hug and then throws her arms around my neck.
“Sunny, I’d appreciate it if you put some clothes on now.” Waters is staring at the ceiling.
I look over Sunny’s shoulder to find her ass hanging out the bottom of the shirt.
“Oops!” She drops her arms and covers her ass with her palms, not that it’s necessary anymore.
“That elevator takes forever!” Violet comes through the door carrying a bag of takeout. “Oh, hey, guys . . .” She surveys the scene: Alex is checking the ceiling for spider webs. Sunny’s in nothing but my shirt and holding her ass, and I’m in a pair of pants with the rest of our clothes strewn all over the floor.
She shoves the takeout at Alex and rushes Sunny. “Oh my God! Are you two back together?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Oh, thank fuck! You guys are so stubborn I was worried it was never going to happen.” They jump around and hug each other like they scored backstage passes at a boy-band concert. Then Waters and I stand awkwardly while they whisper back and forth. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but Sunny’s blushing, so I’m sure it’s an overshare.
My phone rings from somewhere under the pile of clothes. “Oh shit. What time is it?”
“Seven-thirtyish? You guys want to have dinner with us? Or have you already eaten?” Violet snickers.
Waters rolls his eyes.
“Uh. Thanks for the invite, but I’m supposed to be at the airport, like, now.” I was cutting it close already; I’ll be lucky to make it at all.
“What time’s your flight?” Violet asks.
“Ten.”
“Yeah, you’re not going to make that.” Waters drops the takeout on the side table and kicks off his shoes. “You might as well reschedule and stay the night. There’s a spare room down the hall.” He crosses over to the cupboard to grab some plates.
So I reschedule my flight, again, and talk my dad into attending my meetings in the morning. Sunny and I spend the night in her brother’s spare room having quiet make-up sex.
The next morning she drives me to the airport. We kiss for way longer than we should in a highly public place. I take off my baseball cap and hold it up so we don’t offend anyone or attract too much attention. Pictures still end up on the Internet, but I don’t mind. Neither does Sunny, apparently. She uses one of them as her avi on social media. It’s not in-your-face at all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
DEFUZZING IS DANGEROUS
Once I get back to Chicago, I put nearly all my time and energy into the fundraiser and workouts to prep for it. It’s just three weeks away, and we’ve already sold half the tickets. The promo video went up yesterday. My dad expects the event to be sold out before the end of next week, which means we’ll raise an easy fifty grand for Michael’s family.
Based on the success so far, I’ve decided this is exactly the kind of thing I want to do more of. I don’t need to wait until my hockey career is over. I have to work out the logistics with Vi and my agent, but it seems like a good way to broaden my reach, and it’s definitely helped spin the media attention in a different direction. The pictures of me and Sunny at the airport haven’t hurt either.
I get an awful lot of help from Randy in both the workout and fundraising-prep departments since he’s still not going out all that much. Lance rides his ass about it more than he does mine, but even he’s let up. Last week when we did a home workout at his place, Lance was on his best behavior with Tash, and there wasn’t one bunny.
Sunny and I have Skyped every night this week. She’s flying in this morning for the weekend. I want to hijack her right away, but she’s supposed to be visiting Waters and Violet. I’ll give those two the day with her, but she’s coming for dinner at my place tonight. My plan is to turn it into a sleepover and get her to stay with me for most of the weekend. I don’t think Waters is likely to object considering Vi is already in on it.
Just before eleven, Vi stops by. She’s here to help me prepare. She took the afternoon off for a business meeting, part of which consists of picking up Sunny from the airport. I’m not sure it’s legit.
“What’s up, brother from another mother?” She’s holding a huge box. “And father,” she tacks on, then wrinkles her nose. “That wasn’t even funny, was it?”
“Uh, no.”
She drops the box on the counter. “I think my sense of humor is being affected by this engagement-party-planning shit. I wonder if it’s possible to have an allergy to being engaged.”
“I have my doubts.”
She points a candle at me. “You’re not helpful. I need to put a stop to my mother’s insanity. I can’t deal with this craziness. She’s trying to force her way into my girl’s afternoon with Sunny. I said no way. Neither one of us wants blue-eye-shadow makeovers.” Vi stops her tirade to look around my condo. “Have you done anything to get ready for Sunny?”
“I changed my sheets, and I cleaned off the dining room table.” I relocated all the papers to the coffee table so we have somewhere to eat.
“You’re such a bachelor.”
I unpack the box of stuff while Vi rummages through my cupboards. “This must be yours.” I toss her a box with a woman’s leg on it. It looks like a shaving product.
She puts her hands up, shielding her face. It hits her in the chest and drops to the floor at her feet. “Ow! Don’t throw things at me!”
“I didn’t throw it. I tossed it. Underhand. It helps if you don’t cower and actually try to catch it.”
She picks it up off the floor and hurls it. I snatch it out of the air before it beans me on the head. Her aim is getting better—either that or it was a lucky shot. “That’s for you.”
“What is this? Shaving cream?” I turn the box over and scan the back, waiting for her to explain. She can tell me in thirty seconds what it’ll take me five minutes to labor through on my own.
“It’ll take down your forest of body hair.”
I run a hand up my arm. “I don’t need this. You can take it home and use it on your mustache.” I slide the box across the counter toward her.
Violet puts her hand up to her mouth, then drops it. “I do not have a mustache. You, however, should consider grooming your yeti ass. You’re having Sunny over to your place for the first time ever. You’re probably going to engage in excessive boning.”
“I’m already groomed. I took care of business yesterday. I even shaved my balls.”
She makes a gagging noise. “More than I wanted to know. Suit yourself, but it’s supposed to be hot tonight. You could manage your arm fur so she doesn’t get lost in there.” Her phone beeps. “I gotta go. I’m picking Sunny up and then we’re going to the spa. She and I have a date with my waxer.”
“Your waxer?”
“You can thank me later.”
“Make sure they leave a landing strip.”
“Why? You have a hard time navigating the land of beave without it?”
“No, I like it. And I’m not talking about this with you. Just don’t torture my girlfriend.”
“Aw, you’re so cute with this girlfriend stuff. I’m not surprised you lured her back with your yeti magic.” She grabs a Vitamin Water from my fridge. Suddenly, loud moaning comes from the wall adjoining my condo. We both freeze. “What the hell is that?”
“My neighbor? Or a cat in heat?” I’ve only heard her dog before, and never through the walls.
We both cringe as the pitch and volume increase. It sounds as if my neighbor—or the cat—are on the verge of a stellar orgasm. Sunny’s a quiet comer. It’s nice. Very un-porn starish.
Vi stares at the wall. “Does that happen often?”
“This is a first. She moved in before I left for the camp. Maybe she’s getting some morning penance in.” Right before my neighbor hits what sounds like the magical O, the sound cuts off. We look at each other, perplexed.
“Huh. That seems unsatisfying.” Vi shakes her head. “Maybe your neighbor likes to watch loud porn.”
“Or she has a thing against coming.”
“If it happens again, can you record it so I can make it Alex’s ring tone? It’ll be awesome.”
Vi’s ridiculous, but I’d pay to see Waters’ face if she managed to make that happen. I hope there aren’t any more of those sounds while Sunny’s here. They’d make an embarrassing soundtrack for the evening I have planned.
Vi’s phone goes off again. “Okay. Now I gotta go. I’ll be back in a few hours. You should reconsider using that stuff.” She taps the box on the counter and leaves.
I ignore her suggestion and rifle through the contents of the bag. I have to admit, she picked up some useful stuff. If she lived on her own and didn’t have access to Waters’ fortune—he’s already set up a joint bank account where she gets what she thinks is a stupid amount of money every month, seventy-five percent of which she invests—I’d want to pay her back. But there’s also a good chance she’s added it to her bill for this month’s financial-management fees. Either way, she’s gone out of her way for me, and that says a lot.
She picked up a whole crapload of candles, all of them in some holistic, natural scent called Sensual Seduction. They smell nice. I’ve never done the candle thing before; it hasn’t been necessary. But it seems like now’s a good time to get on the romance train. Violet also purchased massage oil, bath oils, and what I at first assume are a pair of women’s panties. They’re not. She’s bought me a pair of men’s bikini briefs. I have no idea how I’ll fit my junk into them, but I’m down with giving it a shot for shits and giggles.
At the bottom is a book about the legend of the yeti and a comic strip. Upon closer inspection, I discover Vi has created her own How To Have Sex guide. I’m a yeti, and Sunny is a sunflower. It’s asinine, but it makes me laugh.
Since my housekeeper was here earlier in the week, I don’t have to worry about dusting or anything. It’s the crap lying around that’s the problem. I’m not very good at organizing. I get bored fast and stop in the middle.
I give tidying an honest effort, but after twenty minutes I’ve gotten distracted four times and ended up back in the kitchen with my head in the fridge. I throw all the stuff lying around my living room in a box and shove it my closet. Then I take the candles to my bedroom and line them up along my dresser. The massage oils I leave by the bed; the bath stuff goes by the tub.
Now that everything’s set up, all I can do is wait for Violet to come back. I send Sunny a voice text to avoid autocorrect.
I can't wait to see you tonight.
Three minutes later I get a message back:
Me 2 :) <3
On my way through the kitchen, I stop to leaf through the yeti book. It’s mostly pictures and cartoons.
The box with the woman’s legs on it sits on the counter where Vi left it. Purely out of curiosity, I pick it up and read the back. It takes a while since it’s fine print, but I get the gist. Apparently this cream is made of magic. I put it on my arms, leave it for just under an hour, and boom—all the hair disappears. It might be nice to have smooth arms. According to the directions, they’ll stay that way for days, and the hair is softer when it grows in, which could be beneficial. I’ve got another hour to kill before Vi gets back . . .
I strip down to nothing so I don’t have to worry about getting this stuff on my clothes. It takes longer to apply than I’d banked on. I have to go all the way to my second knuckle and up to my shoulder, minus my pits, so it’s not uneven and funky looking. I set the timer and get out the video game console.
My elbows are the only part of my arms without the cream crap on them. I rest them on my knees so I can play in relative comfort. However, by the thirty-minute mark, my arms feel like they’re on fire. It’s making me lose games. I check the instructions again. It’s tiny, pain-in-the-ass print. This stuff better work for all the discomfort it causes. Plus it has this horrible chemical odor masked by a fake flowery smell. I can’t tell if my whole condo smells like the stuff, or just my arms.
Ten minutes later, I can’t deal with the burn anymore. I’m en route to the bathroom when the intercom buzzes. I debate ignoring it, but it could be Violet, or maybe even Sunny. I hit the button and call out a greeting.
“I’m back!”
It’s Violet. “Can you come back in fifteen?”
“Why do I need to come back in fifteen? It’s eight billion degrees out here. I have underboob sweat from walking to the door from my car. Let me in.”
“Hot. Can you see it through your shirt? Is it embarrassing?”
“Will you let me in already?”
“I can’t. I’m airing out my ball sac. Enjoy the sunshine.” This part is actually true. I haven’t put any clothes back on since I applied this crap. It’s getting to the point where I want to scratch the stuff off, even if my skin comes with it.
“Airing out your berries? Doesn’t the yeti fur impede that?” she yells.
“Berries? My balls are the size of grapefruits.”
“Pfft. Only after you’ve been bit by a spider. Now let me in. I’m not wearing sunscreen. I’ll be the color of a tomato in fifteen minutes, and it’ll be your fault. Alex will punch you in the face again.”
“How is it my fault you’re pasty?”
“Screw you, wildebeest. Never mind. Someone’s going to let me in. You’re a dickface.”
Static follows, along with some muffled conversation between Violet and what sounds like several guys. The door buzzes, and I can’t hear her anymore.
Sometimes it takes a few minutes for an elevator to get to this floor. It’s the only drawback to the building, but it’ll give me enough time to wash the acid cream off my arms so I can put clothes on.
I turn on the shower; the burning is almost unbearable, and the smell is just as bad. I step under the spray to rinse my whole body since the pain has caused me to sweat. All my parts need to smell good when Sunny gets here, especially my balls—in case she wants to put them in her mouth or something.
The cream immediately washes down the drain, along with patches of hair from my forearms. It doesn’t take long before the burning feels more like fire ants gnawing at my skin, followed by a hot lava shower.
I might be screaming. It might be high pitched, but no one’s around to hear me, so there’s no way to prove it happened.
I’m quick to get out from under the scalding spray. The arm hair, which should’ve magically disappeared, is patchy, and my arms are an angry red color. A loud rap tells me I’ve run out of time. I wrap a towel around my waist and head for the door. Leaving Violet in the hall is a bad idea at the best of times—she’ll talk to anyone, and she can be loud.
“Take something! My arms are about to fall off,” she bellows when I let her in.
She’s laden with bags. She unloads everything but one of them into my arms, which leaves me unable to ensure the security of my towel. It feels loose.
“I think your neighbor might be a porn star or something.” Vi crosses to the kitchen and drops her bag on the counter. Two lemons roll out and bounce to the floor.
“Why do you think that? Did you see her up close? Does she have huge fake boobs?”
“Why is it always about the boobs? Three guys were in the elevator with me on the way up. They were all disgustingly buff, and they knocked on your neighbor’s door.”
“And she answered it naked?”
“No, I didn’t see her. I’m surmising based on the sounds we heard this morning. And they were talking about how hard it is to have a four-hour hard-on.”
“Really?”
“No. I made up the last part. But who else has three overly buff guys with unattractive faces over unless they’re in the adult movie industry?”
What my neighbor does or doesn’t do for a living isn’t something I care about right now, so I derail the conversation by asking an unrelated question. “How’s Sunny? How soon is she gonna be here? Did you make sure the waxer played nice?”
“She’s good. Excited and nervous. I didn’t ask about the trim job they gave her beaver. I dropped her off at Alex’s on my way here. She’s getting ready, and then she’s getting a ride over. You’ve got half an hour.” She bends down to pick up a fallen lemon.
I’m still holding the bags, and there’s something cold inside. It feels nice so I haven’t set them down yet. Violet’s face is at waist level when my towel unravels and falls to the floor.
“Oh my God!” She gets an eyeful of my man snake. He’s dangling out there for the world to see. Well, the world inside my apartment. “What the fuck, Buck?”
She rears up and throws the lemon. It hits me in the cheek, which is surprising. Maybe Alex has been teaching her how to play sports. He’s braver than I thought.
I move behind the island to hide my junk. “It’s your damn fault for handing over all that crap!”
“My fault? You knew I was coming up! Why wouldn’t you put on some clothes before you open the damn door?”
I set everything on the counter and retrieve my towel from the floor. “I was washing that shit off my arms. It didn’t work by the way. Look at this!” I hold out my raw, red forearms. Most of the hair is still there, with small irregular patches missing.
Vi stops freaking out about seeing my junk, frowns, and grabs my wrist.
“Ow! Don’t do that.” I slap her hand, and she lets go.
“That is not supposed to happen. Did you have an allergic reaction?”
“Maybe. I couldn’t even keep it on the whole time. I don’t know what the actual benefit of that crap is. It stinks, and it takes forever. It’s like I’m molting.”
“Like a yeti in the spring.” She’s grinning like the jerk she is.
“It’s not funny!”
“How long did you have it on for?”
“I made it to the forty-minute mark before it felt like it was eating off my skin.” The burning sensation is back, and it’s getting worse.
“You’re only supposed to keep it on for twenty minutes.”
“I thought it said fifty. That seemed like a damn long time.”
“It’s probably a chemical burn.” Instead of doing what she normally does, which is make me feel like an idiot, Vi turns the tap on and ushers me over to the sink. “I’m sorry. This was a bad idea.”
Cold water eases the burn. She plugs the sink, gets an ice cube tray out of the fridge, and dumps it in. The cold water stings first, then numbs.
“What am I gonna do? Sunny’s gonna be here soon, and it looks like I have flesh-eating disease.”
“It’s not that bad.”
I look at my forearms and then at her.
“It could be a lot worse. You can wear long sleeves to cover it up.”
“Maybe.” I’m not sure that’ll work out so well. It’s hot as balls, and I have a feeling anything touching my arms is going to sting like a bitch. This is worse than the time I went to Cancun and forgot to wear sunscreen. I was the color of a lobster for the entire week.
Vi does a quick search on the Internet. I put some antibiotic ointment on the worst spots—where most of the hair is missing—but I don’t want to be too liberal with Sunny on her way here. I take one of the painkillers they gave me after Waters broke my nose and hunt down the numbing spray I pilfered the last time I got stitched up during a game. It stings like a motherpucker, but once it takes effect, it feels a lot better. By the time we’re done managing my chemical burn, it’s five minutes to five. Sunny’s punctual. I’m only wearing a pair of shorts.
Vi cleans up the kitchen and puts all the crap away in the bathroom while I throw on clean clothes, including the bikini briefs from the bag. I’m right; I can hardly get my parts to fit inside, but it’s too late to turn back now.
Vi meets me at the door when the buzzer goes off. She cringes at the state of my arms. “Everything’s a go. The vegan menu is on the counter with all of Sunny’s favorites highlighted. Order one of each, and you’ll be golden.”
“Okay. Thanks for all your help, except the arm cream.”
“Does it hurt a lot?”
“It feels like I doused them in acid and threw some vinegar on them for good measure.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll eat ice cream as penance when I get home. Put gauze on it before you go to bed, or you’ll stick to your sheets.” She gives me a huge hug. “I’d wish you luck, but coming from me it’s like the kiss of death.”
I follow her to the door, clear my throat even though it’s not scratchy, and hit the intercom button. “Hello?”
“Miller? It’s Sunny.”
“Hey! Right on time. I’ll buzz you in.”
“Okay. See you in a minute.”
Vi slips on her blinged-out flip-flops, pats me on the cheek, and leaves. I do one more check through the condo to make sure I haven’t left any crap lying around, spray my arms with the numbing solution again, rinse with mouthwash, make sure the wine is chilling in the fridge since Sunny likes white, and wait for her to knock on the door. After a couple minutes there’s still nothing, so I peek out into the hallway.
She’s out there, except she’s standing in front of my neighbor’s door. “Hey,” I say before she raises her hand to knock. If Vi’s right about my neighbor being a porn star, she’s the last person I want Sunny to meet right now.
She stops and looks my way, her confusion turning into a smile. “I almost knocked on the wrong door,” she whispers and tiptoes down the hall toward me. She’s wearing a summery dress. It’s off white with wide straps. I doubt she’s wearing a bra. The promise of fall gives a chill to the evening air. If she gets cool enough, I might be able to see her nipples through it. I stop thinking about sex long enough to answer with an appropriate, non-offensive reply.
“You’re good. I caught you.” I wink and open the door wide. “Come on in.”
Sunny kicks off her shoes and looks around. “This is nice. It’s big.”
“Thanks. It’s nothing like Waters’ cottage or his condo in Toronto, but it’s got an outdoor pool. And it’s dog friendly.” I don’t know why I tell her that. It’s not like she’s going to bring Andy or Titan on a plane to visit for the weekend.
“Really? That’s great.”
She fiddles with her hair, and I hook my thumbs into my pockets—even the backs of my knuckles are burned from that hair-removal crap.
We stand there for another minute. It’s probably not that long; it just feels that way because neither one of us is talking—instead we’re staring at each other.
Any other time I’ve had a woman back to my place, it’s been for the sole purpose of fucking. Sometimes there’s food involved, but that’s usually afterward. Sex makes me hungry. This is the first time I’ve ever done this with the intention of having real conversation and dinner prior to getting Sunny into my bed. I wish there was a manual to consult.
“Can I show you around?” I gesture to the open concept living room-kitchen-dining room combo.
“Can I hug you first?”
“What? Oh. Yeah. For sure.” Physical contact I can do. I hold my arms out. She presses her entire body against mine. It feels really nice. I wrap my arms around her shoulders and drop my face into the crook of her neck. I wish I could turn her smell into an air freshener.
Sunny sighs and burrows in, her arms tightening around me. We stand like that until I start to get an obvious hard-on. I back off, expecting Sunny to do the same. Instead she lifts her head and licks her lips.
It’s the sign.
The one where she wants me to kiss her. It’s been almost a week since I’ve had my tongue in her mouth, so I’m all over accommodating her wishes.
I lower my head an inch, and Sunny lifts her chin. The first kiss is soft, lips touching lips. Sunny sucks my bottom lip. I open for her, letting her take the lead. All the nervousness melts away like cotton candy on my tongue. The emotions I couldn’t or didn’t want to name before we made up in Toronto are clear as exploration makes my hard-on ache.
She frames my face with her hands and breaks the kiss to get some air. “This week was long. I like you better in 3D than I do through a computer screen.”
“It’s way easier to make out, isn’t it?”
“Definitely.”
We go back in for round two of tongue wars. She has to be able to feel my hard-on by now. Girls are lucky. All their signs of horniness can be hidden. Guys have this big—if we’re lucky—stick that jabs people in the stomach to let them know what’s going down. Or up.
Sunny starts to run her hands over my biceps, but I catch her wrists. “Maybe don’t do that today.”
She glances at my arms. “Oh my God! What happened?”
“I uh . . . I had an allergic reaction to some cream.” It’s not a total lie.
“Geez. That’s terrible. What kind of cream was it?”
“I can’t remember the name. Anyway, it looks worse than it feels. It’ll be fine in a couple of days.” I hope it doesn’t scab. I have interviews, and if my arms are a mess, I’ll need to wear a long-sleeve shirt. I like golf shirts better; then I don’t have to mess around with a tie.
“Is it only on your arms?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll have to be extra careful with you then, won’t I?”
“Not too careful.”
Sunny’s expression turns devious as she runs her hands down my chest and slips them under my shirt.
Which is the moment a loud moan filters through the wall. The timing couldn’t be worse.
Sunny freezes. “What was that?”
“I think my neighbor’s dog’s in heat.”
The next moan is louder.
“That doesn’t sound like a dog.”
I’m positive it’s not her dog, but I’m hoping it’ll stop soon. “I’ll turn on some music.” I grab the remote from the back of the couch and flip on the TV, but I’m not fast enough.
This time words accompany the moan. “Oh God! That’s it. Right there!”
“Um—”
“My neighbor moved in while I was away at camp. I haven’t had a face-to-face meeting with her yet.” It does nothing to explain what’s going on over there. Until now, the only thing I ever heard was the occasional thump. Penthouses shouldn’t have sound issues.
