Operation Foreplay (22 page)

“Here I am eight years later, you’re even more beautiful than I remember, your smile is brighter, your boobs are bigger, and that funny pit in my stomach is still there.” He paused and laughed softly. “I never thought in a million years I’d see you again other than in passing and here I am lying in bed next to you as you pretend to sleep. I watched you in the kitchen. I watched you pull away the moment you realized there might be something more than pretend between us. I’m okay if you want to run, for now. I’ve seen you open and free and happy. I’ve seen the cracks in your confidence, the peeling paint on your façade.”

He pulled his hand away from my hair and shifted his weight. “Do you think I wanted to come here and get involved with someone? Hell no. Never in a million years did I think you could live up to how I built you up in my head. But here we are.

“Christ, Mel.” He stood. “It’s not like I’m asking you to run off and spend the rest of your life with me. Just enjoy it for what it is. We could have a lot of fun, you and me. We’re more alike than I think you’d care to admit.”

He rummaged through his drawers and quietly left. I heard the shower turn on before I opened my eyes.

Chapter Eighteen

W
hen she wakes up, just let her know we went out to dinner with Nick and Mia. She’s knows who they are. You sure you don’t need anything?”

“No, I’m good, Nora. You two have fun. I’ll make sure she eats something.”

“You’re a nice young man, Jared. I have a good feeling about what the two of you have.” My dad, always the voice of reason.

I heard the door close as my mom and dad left to have dinner with their friends. I listened as the ice maker dropped ice into a glass. The slider to the back deck opened, then closed. I took a quick shower and changed into a pair of tiny white running shorts and a gray tank. The sun had done a bit of a number on my shoulders earlier, so for the moment I was sans bra and the air-conditioned temperature in the condo made the fact quite apparent. Rubbing my nipples to warm them up did nothing more than harden them further. Sighing, I realized there was nothing I could do about it, so I pulled on Jared’s blue hoodie, stuffed my hair into his baseball cap, and slicked on my sheer lip gloss.

I opened the door to my bedroom and stepped out into the hall. I could see Jared on the bright orange lounge chair, a glass with three fingers of my dad’s Black Label whiskey next to him on the teak table. Sunglasses perched on his face, Jared was soaking up what was left of the late afternoon sun. His shirtless form always drew my attention. I swear that boy has an aversion to shirts. Not that I minded.

Good Lord. I needed to stop thinking with my vagina.

I grabbed my sunglasses off the kitchen counter and made my way to the deck. Opening the door, I slipped outside. Jared didn’t stir but I knew he wasn’t asleep by the way the corner of his mouth lifted. Picking up his glass, I took a deep swallow of the whiskey and curled up in the gravity chair my dad loved so much. Taking in a deep breath, I filled my lungs with fresh sea air and my nose with Jared’s scent—coconut sunscreen, my lavender shampoo, and salty sweat. I swallowed as I began salivating like a hungry puppy.

“There’s this thing about you,” I began, taking another sip. “There’s this quality you have that I can’t quite pinpoint. It’s more of a feeling that I have when I am around you. It’s like the most amazing thing takes over and I can see what it would be like to be with you. And when I finally opened my eyes, I realized the thought makes me happy.”

I paused and held my breath. Jared didn’t respond and the silence made me jittery.

“The past eight years have been good to you. I remember you from when you were in high school. A skinny kid. Cute. Young. Great smile. Now that same smirk takes on a whole new level of panty-dropping sexiness. And you’re fun. And you’re nice. And you’re, I don’t know, just something different from what I’ve ever experienced.”

The other corner of his mouth lifted.

“However”—I downed the whiskey and paced the deck—“I don’t really know how to do relationships. I don’t really know how to be in one. At least not a romantic relationship. I move quickly, I don’t take the time to smell the roses, I find what I want, take it, and move on. Generally I live by the sex only rule. No phone calls. No texts. No clinginess. It’s less messy that way, you know?

“But something weird has been happening to me. More and more lately, I haven’t been able to brush off my feelings as easily, I haven’t been able to dismiss them as quickly as I once did. Which is fine, I’ve been able to deal, kind of, with all that. But then Zac told me he loved me.” I blew out a breath. “And he lied. And I hate that I believed him. And I hate that he lied. But what I hate the most is that I am so angry about his lie but I fail to recognize that there is no reason for me to be angry with him. Because I don’t feel the same way. I don’t love Zachary Waterman. Never have.”

I threw open the sliding glass door and stalked to the kitchen and filled the empty tumbler with more whiskey. I drank deeply before Jared came up behind me, took the glass from me, and placed it on the counter.

“Damn it, Jared. I’ve always said I don’t believe in
love
.” I put the word in air quotes. “But that’s a lie, too. I just wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Who says”—he lifted my chin—“that you have to love anyone but yourself right now? All I’m asking for is the opportunity to get to know you better. Don’t label it. Just let it be what it is.”

“Which is what?”

“I don’t know. Maybe for now we just hang out. Take everything slow.” He lifted me up and placed me on the counter.

“Slow?” I snickered. “Like foreplay.”

He laughed quietly. “Yeah. I guess it kind of is.”

“I told you. I don’t know how to do slow.”

“Slow
I
can do. We can go slow together.” His fingers traced shapes on my thighs.

“Can we still make out?” I asked softly.

“Sure. I don’t see why not.” He picked up the drink and looked at me over the rim of the glass as he took a sip. “We’ll call it part of the get-to-know-you process.”

“Can we make out slowly?” My finger slid across the indents between his abs, and his stomach tensed as goose bumps covered his skin. I slowly traced the top of his shorts, pausing along the little trail of hair that led from his belly button and disappeared under the elastic waistband.

He nuzzled his face against my chest and let out a small growl. “Don’t make me regret all this slow business.”

I placed a hand on either side of his face. “As long as you don’t make me regret slowing down.”

There was a tiny pause between us, a small hitch in our heartbeats. We were steady but the anticipation sizzled between us. I could live in that feeling. That butterfly, tingle-inducing feeling that arose right before we kissed. The butterfly, tingle-inducing feeling I hadn’t felt since my first kiss ever in the seventh grade with Mark Turner.

My lips parted slightly as our mouths met. The kiss was urgent and slow. Soft and commanding. I let him dictate the pace; I was tired of always leading, taking charge. Jared convinced me with his touch to be moldable, bendable, and the feeling was freeing, amazing, and sexy as hell.

My hands slid slowly from his face down his arms and I paused along the taut muscles in his biceps, his forearms. His kiss grew more intense as his arms tightened around me. I reached back up and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling myself in closer. I suddenly couldn’t get close enough. The kiss, the skin-on-skin contact—my senses were in overload.

“Melody.” He whispered my name and I pulled him in tighter and he bit my bottom lip and pulled.

He lifted me up quickly and I wrapped my legs tighter around him. His hand fisted the hair on the back of my head as he walked to the living room couch and deposited me on the cushions. He leaned above me for a moment, his eyes taking me in. His gaze swept every inch of me from my head to my toes and back. A slow gaze, a hungry and patient gaze. The act sent my nether region into a tizzy and within seconds of his eyes sweeping me, I had a full-on throbber. I honestly felt like if I didn’t get his dick inside me, I would pass out from the anticipation. He must’ve sensed the urgency because his body dropped onto mine and his lips found my lips, his tongue tangled with my tongue, his moans matched my moans.

I spread my legs wider apart and he settled in. Holding my hands above my head, he pushed his hips forward, pressed against my center, and I gasped. My eyes flew open and I saw he was watching my face, biting his bottom lip. Gazes locked, I felt him push against me again, slowly and with more lingering pressure than before. My mouth dropped open but no sound came out as he pushed against me over and over again, watching me. Holding me still as he pressed himself between my legs.

“I want you inside me.” I breathed out, ready for the most intense orgasm known to man. I knew the minute he pushed inside me, I’d sing like a bird and explode like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

He smiled and kissed me, pressing up against me again. I was being dry humped to within an inch of my life. And it wasn’t enough.

“Jared. Now. Please.” I pulled my hands away from his grip, found the waistband of his shorts, and tugged. I was never going to be able to hold out.

He pulled away quickly, stood, and adjusted himself. His eyes were glassy but focused and he looked like he was trying to maintain his balance. He was breathing as heavily as I was but more even, like he was fighting for control, whereas I was ready to jump off a cliff and fall into orgasm heaven. “Nope. Slow, remember?”

“Wait! What?” There was no way I’d heard him right. My orgasm was standing in the on deck circle practicing her swing when the game was called.

“Slow. We agreed to take things slowly.” He leaned down and kissed the tip of my nose. My orgasm grabbed a bucket of balls and threatened to start throwing bean balls at the referee.

“I’ve changed my mind.” My clit was so swollen and throbbing so much, I thought my entire lady area would revolt and remove itself from my body.

“You’ve changed your mind?” He ran his thumb across his mouth.

“I reserve the right to change my mind. It’s one thing to
say
you’re going to give up sex, it’s quite another to go through with it. I give up.” I realized my voice was bordering on hysterical but there was nothing I could do about it. “You can’t just stop.” The throbbing was seriously intense and I cried out a little as my hands flew to my crotch. “This is fucking insane.”

Jared said nothing, just stood looking at me with that sexy smirk on his face. I wanted to lick it off and keep it for myself.

“When we said slow, I meant relationship type stuff not sex slow.” I tried to reason with him.

Seriously.

The throbbing.

I knew this is what death felt like.

He went to sit in the chair across from the couch and fisted his hands tightly. It was good to know I wasn’t the only one affected, especially since I noticed how he adjusted his junk more than once. As he adjusted, I watched with laser focus as if his were the last penis in the world. The thought pushed a small moan from my lips. I closed my eyes tight and cupped my crotch, trying not to touch the throbber because each time I did, a jolt would surge down my legs and into my stomach.

“Here’s the deal, Mel. You’ve been pretty… how do I say this?
Active
in your sex life.” Was I about to be slut shamed? I was dying inside and he was going to discuss how active my sex life has been?

“And your friends have mentioned how it would be good for you to gain some, um,
vertical
perspective when it comes to men, yes?”

“Yes but—”

“Let me finish.” He blew out a long breath. Son of a bitch was gaining control as I was lying on the couch with my hands shoved between my quivering legs, wondering if I would die from blue balls. “I recently—well, a couple months ago—got out of a long-term relationship.” He winked and I throbbed. “I am thinking, with all this slow business, it would give us each time to detox our prospective parts. Give us each a clear head.”

“Detox? Jesus Christ, we aren’t radioactive.” I pulled my knees to my chest and curled up into the fetal position, my hands still shoved between my legs.

His laugh sent electricity shooting down my legs. Seriously? How long did blue balls last? Would there be permanent damage? Could Jared’s climactic detour be considered physical abuse? Was there a number I could call?

He was cock-blocking himself and when his balls turned purple, shriveled up, and died he would have no one to blame but himself.

“No, that isn’t what I meant. I am thinking of this as more of a challenge. Our pants stay on for a while as we discussed before. I like the idea of getting to know each other without sex getting in the way. We’ll just need to figure out a way to distract each other.”

That fucking word again.

Distraction.

Fuck distraction.

I needed dick.

“So you’re content with handing me some blue balls and sending me on my way?”

Again with the laugh. “No. Believe me, I’m not immune either. But this”—he pointed at the couch—“is where we will live. With a condition.”