Feeling Hot (10 page)

And why the hell didn’t
Jen
know about it? She’d seen her brother several times this week and not once had he mentioned that he and his wife might be having problems. Granted, he hadn’t offered to let her stay at
his
place, but she’d figured that was because Carson and Holly’s apartment only had one bedroom. Sleeping on a couch for a month wasn’t Jen’s idea of a good time, and she’d assumed her brother had dumped her on Cash out of a sense of decency, so she’d have a real bedroom and some actual privacy.

But had he done it for another reason? Made her stay with Cash so she wouldn’t be privy to the rocky state of his relationship?

“What do you know, Annabelle?” Jen demanded.

“Not much. Holly won’t talk about it, and when I ask, she says everything is fine. But I know she’s lying. I caught her crying after the wedding we planned last weekend, but she chalked it up to nostalgia and said it reminded her of her and Carson’s wedding.”

Jen frowned. “You also said they were fighting?”

“Ry and Matt heard them arguing last week when they showed up early for poker night. And I overheard Holly fighting with Carson over the phone when I went by the restaurant to have lunch with her a couple of days ago. That’s when she told me she’d stayed with her sister the other night. She admitted that they’ve both been really busy and on edge lately, and she claims they needed some breathing room—why on earth would they need breathing room when he’s been gone for the past six months?”

Jen absorbed the information, wondering if she ought to be worried. It was true, her brother and sister-in-law did lead busy lives. Holly not only spent four days a week working at a five-star restaurant, but she also co-owned an event planning and catering company with Annabelle. The business ate up a lot of their weekends, and several weeknights now that the venture had gained more recognition. And Carson was a SEAL, which not only meant lengthy deployments every other year, but that he was forever on call, ready to get on a chopper at a minute’s notice and often gone for weeks or months at a time with no way to contact his wife.

The long absences had the power to destroy a relationship—which was precisely why Jen shied away from military men. Growing up, her father had been a complete stranger to her; he’d been the strict, taciturn man who made an appearance whenever his tour of duty ended. Her mother had shouldered the burden of raising Jen and Carson alone, while working as a full-time nurse, to boot.

Watching her mother struggle and seeing her parents attempt to reconnect each time her dad came home had cemented Jen’s decision to avoid that kind of relationship. She wanted a partner in every sense of the word, a man who’d be there day in and day out, not one who’d hand all the responsibilities to her while he went off to fight for his country.

It really troubled her to hear that Carson and Holly were having problems. They had a strong, loving relationship, but even the strongest and most loving marriages could buckle under the pressure.

“I didn’t know anything about it,” she admitted. “But then again, nobody in my family tells me anything.”

“Well, if you get a chance, talk to Holly, okay? She won’t confide in me or Shelby or anyone else. Savannah thinks we should have a girls’ night next week and pry the truth out of her.”

“Count me in.”

“I’ll text you the details when I know them. But if you talk to her before then, see what you can find out.”

“I will.”

When male laughter met her ears, Jen’s gaze drifted over to Cash and Ryan, who were chortling about something at the other end of the pool. It suddenly occurred to her just how much they resembled each other. They both had dark brown hair, blue eyes, the same lean and muscular body type. The two of them could easily pass for brothers, yet while she found Ryan attractive, the sight of him didn’t elicit the same rush of desire she felt when looking at Cash.

Annabelle followed her gaze and smiled coyly. “How do you like Cash?”

She didn’t bother coming up with an offhand reply; she got the feeling her sexual longing was written all over her face. “What do you think?” she answered in a wry voice.

“He’s yummy, huh? When I first met him, I asked Ryan if I could change my freebie list and replace Matthew McConaughey with Cash, but he said no because we already had our lists laminated.”

“Back up—what are you talking about?”

“The freebie list. You know, the three people you’re allowed to have sex with if the opportunity arises.” Annabelle shrugged. “Me and Ryan are big on lists.”

“And you got them laminated? That’s beyond weird.”

“Will it make it weirder if I told you we turned them into business cards and keep them in our wallets?”

Jen burst out laughing. “Yes.”

“Anyway.” Annabelle’s gaze glimmered with appreciation as she continued to inspect Cash. “After Ryan shot him down as my freebie, I suggested we invite him to have a threesome, but Ry said no way.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “I think he’s scared that Cash might have more stamina than him or something. Ever since Ry turned thirty, he’s all paranoid about his manhood. Personally, I think a threesome would only benefit him. You know, force him to up his game.”

Jen hoped the other woman couldn’t see the blush on her cheeks. But jeez. Was she the only person on the planet who’d never indulged in a damn threesome? Carson had, and apparently Matt O’Connor still had them all the time since his girlfriend was into it. And a little birdie—ahem, Carson—had let it slip that Annabelle might’ve been the filling in a Ryan and Matt sandwich at one point too…

Envy burned in Jen’s belly. Seemed like pretty much everyone she knew got to experience the kind of sex she’d always dreamed about. Hot, kinky, exciting.

She cast another look at Cash, annoyance creeping up her spine. He was laughing at something Ryan had said, looking sexy as all get out with that T-shirt clinging to his washboard abs and perfectly defined pecs. Damn bastard, depriving her of all that sexiness.

She turned back to find Annabelle staring at her in sympathy. “You
do
want him. And bad, from the look of it. It sucks about Carson’s ruling, doesn’t it?”

Jen narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Carson mentioned in the conference call that Cash has been ordered to keep his hands off you.” Along with sympathy, barely restrained humor danced in Annabelle’s brown eyes.

Jen was outraged. “Wow. He has a lot of nerve. He actually told everyone that?”

“Yep.”

“I’m going to kill him one day.”

“Not sure I’d blame you. The way he talks about you, you’re all of twelve years old. I don’t think he realizes you’re practically the same age as his wife.”

Hey, very true. Holly was only three years older, now that she thought about it.

Annabelle waved that dainty hand again—she seemed to do that a lot, and Jen had to respect the woman’s no-nonsense attitude. “My advice? You want Cash, go for it. Life’s too short to not go after what you want.”

“Good advice, except that Cash has decided we’re just friends. He keeps bragging about his formidable discipline.”

The brunette snorted. “Uh, he’s been undressing you with his eyes for the past twenty minutes. One little push and you’ll have that man in your bed.”

She shifted her head, and sure enough, Cash’s hot, hungry gaze was glued to her, even as he continued to chuckle and shoot the shit with Ryan.

Did she have the guts to follow Annabelle’s advice, though? To go for it?

Why not?

Yeah, why not? Things would be different if Cash wasn’t interested, but she knew he was. And she’d be a fool to pass up the chance to sleep with the guy. She’d yet to meet a man she could explore her sexuality with, and she knew without a doubt that Cash McCoy would be up for anything.

So what if Carson had laid down the law? Annabelle was right. One little push and Cash’s resolve would collapse like a house of straw.

“What kind of push?” Jen asked.

Annabelle stared at her.

“What?” she said defensively. “You brought it up. You can’t go all judgmental on me now.”

“I’m not being judgmental. I’m just shocked. Have you looked in the mirror, Jen? You’re gorgeous. Are you telling me you don’t know how to seduce a man?”

She gulped down a lump of insecurity. “I don’t have much experience in seduction.”

“Carson will be glad to hear that,” Annabelle said dryly. “But seriously, how can you not have men wrapped around your little finger?”

She shrugged awkwardly. “I guess I do, kind of, anyway. I get hit on a lot, but…” She blushed. “I’ve only slept with three guys and they were the ones who did the seducing.”

And they’d all disappointed her colossally in the bedroom. She didn’t have anything against slow, tender lovemaking, but sometimes a girl just needed…well, to be
fucked
, damn it.

“Trust me, it’ll be a piece of cake,” Annabelle said confidently. “Just utilize the three S’s—skimpy clothing, subtle touches and sexual innuendo.”

She had to laugh. “That’s it?”

“That’s it. Use the three S’s and Cash won’t be able to resist you.”

“What about bros before hoes?”

“Yeah, the bro loyalty might slow you down, I’m not gonna lie. But you just have to keep cranking up the heat until he’s feeling so hot all he’ll be able to think is,
Carson who?
”

Jen pursed her lips in thought. Okay. That didn’t sound too difficult.

She glanced at the other side of the pool and found Cash’s blue eyes focused on her. She didn’t miss the brief flicker of desire in his eyes before his expression went shuttered. As he broke the eye contact, she felt a smile tugging on the corners of her mouth. So…Cash McCoy was convinced he could keep his hands off her?

Fine, well, let him try.

Because she was officially putting that discipline of his to the test—and once she was through with him, his hands were going to be
all
over her.

Chapter Five

What kind of self-respecting woman ate pizza in her underwear? Any meal, for that matter. There was a reason restaurants had a dress code—food was meant to be eaten while
clothed
. Come to think of it, that should be a law, Cash decided. He made a mental note to write his local congressman about it.

As he inwardly stewed, he kept his gaze focused on
The
Office
rerun playing on the flat screen, refusing to let Jen see how much she affected him. They sat on opposite ends of the couch, with the pizza box on the cushions between them, yet she was still too damn close for comfort. From the corner of his eye, he saw her graceful throat working as she chewed and swallowed her slice, and when she reached for the beer bottle on the coffee table, his peripheral vision honed in on the side of one full breast.

Jesus. This woman would be the death of him. When she’d strolled into the living room in a black sports bra and tiny green boy shorts, his eyes had nearly popped out of their sockets. He’d casually suggested that she might be more comfortable if she had more clothes on, but she’d laughed and told him this was what she always wore around the house. Her relaxing outfit, she’d called it. Then she’d released her hair from her ponytail and all those tousled, honey-blonde waves cascaded over her shoulders and halfway down her back, making her look like a golden goddess.

He’d been trying valiantly not to ogle her—or touch her—all evening, but it was only eight o’clock and he was running out of willpower. If he retreated to his bedroom claiming he planned on turning in, she’d see right through him—and know that his so-called discipline was failing him big-time. Which meant he had to stick it out. Watch TV, make small-talk during commercials, maybe have another beer or two.

He could totally do this. As long as he avoided eye contact and kept the conversation neutral he’d get through this night, no problem.

And what about the other twenty or so nights?

Cash promptly silenced his inner Negative Nancy. He just had to take a page of the Alcoholics Anonymous book. One day at a time. The next three weeks would fly by as long as he kept his cool.

“I can’t eat another bite,” Jen said with a satisfied groan. She grabbed a napkin from the table and demurely wiped the corners of her mouth like she was the queen of England.

Though he highly doubted the queen of England wore her fucking underwear to dinner.

“Thanks for treating,” she added. “I’ll get dinner tomorrow.”

“Sure,” he agreed, wincing at the hoarse note in his voice. He promptly concentrated on the television again and pretended to care about the antics of Steve Carell and the rest of the cast, but when another commercial break came on, he had no choice but to glance over at Jen and wait for the next round of neutral small-talk.

When he glimpsed the thoughtful light in those big blue eyes, he started to get a bad feeling. Gulping, he picked up his beer and took a long swig.

“So what’s your favorite sexual position?”

Cash choked mid-sip.

Coughing wildly, he put his bottle on the table and gawked at her. “Excuse me?”

“Your favorite sexual position,” she repeated.

He gritted his teeth. “I’m not telling you that. It’s inappropriate subject matter for two people who won’t be having sex.”