Tainted Love: A Lovestruck Novella, Book 1 (5 page)

Josie

Tossing and turning, I can’t seem to get comfortable. My skin is too hot and irritated by the sheets. Ugh, who I am kidding, the thousand-count, Egyptian cotton sheets are not the problem. The problem is the aching pulse between my legs for the beautiful man sleeping on my couch.

I felt so damn bad for him when he told me that he went home to find his girlfriend
cheating
on him with a guy from work, betrayed by not one person, but two in his life. Then, about three seconds later, I wanted to fuck him and make it better. But a guy like him could never want a goofy tomboy like me. I bet his girlfriend is a lingerie model and Hollywood gorgeous.
Bitch
. I hate her, and I don’t even know her. All I know is she lucked up getting the hottest man I’ve ever seen, and she threw it away, threw him away, on some dude who is probably a complete douche.

My anger at this unknown woman only makes me want to jump Lawson’s bones even more. I want to get on my knees and suck the shit out of that man’s cock to show him just how attractive and wanted he is. Jeez, I’ve clearly lost all of my marbles.

Could he be…?

No, I refuse to think such nonsense like goofy women with crystal balls can look at your hand and predict your future or that their silly potions actually work.  It’s absurd. I met, fell in love and got screwed over by my soulmate. Now I am a clear thinking adult who does not fall for such hocus pocus optimism because I happen to be lonely. There, I admitted it. I’m lonely. I wanna get swept off my feet by a superhero like in all the movies. But that sort of love and admiration doesn’t come from drinking out of a bottle. And it certainly doesn’t just fall from the sky and land in my apartment in the form of a hot, Greek god. Man, he’s so gorgeous and buff and masculine.

Surrendering to the sensation, because I
really
need to get to sleep, I slip my hand between my legs, seeking relief. As soon as my fingertips touch my clit I gasp in a shaky breath from the instant pleasure. Wow, I’m so turned on, it won’t take but…
Oh! Ohhh! Oh God!

My entire body tenses, from my head down to my curling toes when the orgasm slams into me, making me feel out of this world good for just a few wonderful seconds. I don’t even remember coming back down from the euphoria before I drift off to sleep.

…

“Josie?”

“Mmm?” I answer when I hear a deep, sexy voice say my name and feel his warm, strong hand gripping my bare shoulder. 

“Josie?”

“Yeah?” I respond, my voice husky with sleep and need as he grips me tighter.

“We’ve gotta get a move on.”

“
Yesss
, let’s get it on,” I reply, reaching out for him. Only, my hands are met with nothing but air, so I blink my eyes open to figure out where he is. Off to the left of my bed, Lawson is leaning over with a hand on my arm and a lazy smile on his beautiful face. The shittiest part is he’s got all of his clothes on. Damn, we didn’t have sex. That was just a dream, a really amazing dream.

“You gonna go to work like that?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, making me assume that I look like a hot mess.

“I’ll get a shower,” I grumble, wiping the sleep from my eyes. “What time is it?”

“Seven-fifteen.”

“I can be quick,” I say as I roll ungracefully out of bed and then stumble my way into the bathroom.

The warm water and smell of fresh soap do wonders for waking my tired ass up. Shit, I need, like, six more hours of sleep. It felt like I barely got any between being hot and horny and having naughty dreams.

Quickly drying off, I run the hairdryer over my hair while I put on my makeup, quite a feat. I dab a little eyeshadow, mascara and lip gloss on my tired face. Finished, I open the door with a towel wrapped around me to run to my room before Lawson’s any the wiser. But I’m not that lucky.

“Ready to go?” he asks, followed by, “Whoa! Guess not,” when his eyes travel down the length of me before he turns around to face the living room.

“Sorry, just give me two minutes,” I promise as I cross the hall and shut my bedroom door. After allowing myself a second of mortification, I slip into my undies, and find the dress I picked out for work, a sleeveless black number hitting just above my knee, with a thin, red belt around the waist, paired with strappy, red heels. Now, I’m ready to go.

I grab my black leather purse and toss my apartment keys and phone into it before I walk back to the living room where Lawson is seated and waiting on the couch.

“Nice,” he says before getting to his feet. I don’t respond as heat creeps up my neck and across my cheeks because I’m not sure if he meant it was nice that I’m finally ready to go or that I look nice.

Opening the front door, I step out into the warm spring day and wait for Lawson to walk out so I can lock up. As he passes, I feel the heat from his body mere inches away. There’s an almost magnetic pull that’s urging me to close the distance, to touch him. Every single inch. I have to clinch my purse to the front of my body tighter to keep from doing something stupid like attack him on the walkway. He’s my ride to work, I remind my raging hormones, urging them to settle down before I physically assault him, which will likely make him ditch me. Now, if he would just hurry up and put some distance between us, I might succeed in not launching myself at him.

“You smell really nice,” he says, causing wonderful tingles to start at the points of both my nipples and instantly plunge lower into my panties with the speed of that Drop Zone carnival ride. Four words that imply I don’t stink, and my body is lighting up like fireworks on the Fourth of freaking July.

“Thanks,” I mutter when I meet his gorgeous hazel eyes. “You have really nice eyes,” I stupidly say aloud. They’re more than nice. They’re hypnotic. Golden-brown starbursts surround his pupils and streak flawlessly right into a sea of warm, green grass. His eyes remind me of autumn and how well the colors of the changing leaves complement each other so beautifully.

“Thanks,” Lawson replies, but now I’ve forgotten what we were talking about as my gaze lowers to his luscious, plump lips. My heart races as we stand there frozen, facing each other, a thin slice of spring air all that’s separating us. When he wets his lips with his tongue, I almost have a panic attack, thinking he might be getting ready to kiss me. This god among men wants to put his lips on mine…but then a car alarm blares in the distance, tainting the perfect moment when we both nearly jump out of our skin.

Lawson clears his throat, takes a step backwards and walks off toward his truck. So I lock up, needing an extra moment to catch my breath that all seems to have decided to take a hiatus from my lungs at the same time.

By the time I climb into the passenger seat, the
Foo Fighters
thankfully fill the silence.

“You want
Herbie’s
?” Lawson asks.

I’m so out of sorts that at first I think he asked if I wanted herpes.
No thank you. I’ll pass on those.

“Sure,
Herbie’s
is great,” I tell him, fond of the home cooking from the restaurant that serves breakfast all day and is dedicated to the famous Volkswagen Beetle. 

We settle into a booth in the busy diner and glance over the menus placed in front of us by the hostess. There’s still this noticeable tension between us, making me feel all…antsy and hyped up, like I drank a carton of five-hour energy drinks or have an excess amount of adrenaline pumping through my veins. 

“Your couch is pretty comfy,” Lawson says, breaking the silence after we give the waitress our double order of a stack of pancakes with a side of bacon and orange juice to drink. I gave my order first, and he copied it.

“My bed is even better,” I say, and then cringe, wanting to slap my hand over my big, stupid mouth.

“I bet it is,” Lawson replies with a smirk. He probably thinks I’m a sad, pathetic single woman that has to practically beg a man to join me on my pillow-topper mattress.

Thankfully, the waitress sets our juice down before I can say anything else ridiculous, like
I would rather be swallowing your sausage for breakfast
or
please
s
mother me in pancake syrup and lick every drop off
.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Lawson asks, sliding a shiny, copper coin across the table to me.

“No way!” I exclaim as my cheeks go up in flames, and I slide the penny back toward him.

“Ah, come on,” he says with a wide grin that incinerates my panties. There’s this dimple in his left cheek that I’ve just noticed, and it’s so adorable I want to fuck it. I mean, lick it? Kiss it? Yes, that’s the one. “It can’t be that bad,” Lawson adds when I remain silent because I’m thinking of all the naughty things I would do to that damn dimple, but only after I finish tonguing his abs and rubbing my ass up on his cock like a bitch in heat. He’s so pretty. I bet the hammer below his belt is too. So big and beautiful that a little Lawson selfie would put all other dick pics to shame.

“Josie?” he asks.

“Oh, it is very bad,” I laugh, covering my face with both hands.

“Now I
really
want to know,” he says with a chuckle.

“Never!” I say with dramatic flair.

“How about this? I’ll tell you what’s on my mind, if you’ll promise to share yours afterwards.”

I look up at him in deliberation. Damn. Wanting to know what he’s thinking, and figuring I can make up something different in the meantime, I eventually agree with a reluctant nod. “Okay, fine.”

Lawson narrows his beautiful hazel eyes and wags a finger at me before he says, “You can’t make something else up either.”

I scoff and roll my eyes. “I’m offended by your implication that I would ever consider doing such a deceitful thing,” I tell him. What is he? A freaking mind reader, too? “Now out with it,” I order.

He looks at me a second as if in deliberation before glancing around us. Finally, before I lose my patience, he leans forward on his elbows and tells me, “If it wasn’t for the girlfriend, who ironically enough was cheating on me at the time, I really would have bent you over and spanked your ass yesterday just to leave a dirty handprint on the back of your pretty little, white dress. Now I can’t stop thinking about how bad I want a do-over.”

My mouth falls open at the same time I feel a phantom sting on my behind. And I like it. I’ve never bent over for a man or been spanked, but I really want to do both for this one. Shoot, who am I kidding? I would do
anything
he asked just to have his hands on me.

Lawson, the sexy jerk, gives me a shit-eating grin when he notices my discomfort before he says, “Your turn. What were you thinking about? The truth.”

I remain silent until he lifts his glass and takes a sip of orange juice, waiting for optimum timing. Then, I lay it all out there, less self-conscious now because I’m eager for a little revenge. “I was just imagining the size of the big, juicy…sausage I’d rather be swallowing for breakfast.”

I glance up just in time to see juice spray from Lawson’s mouth like a sprinkler, his hand trying to contain it and epically failing. Smiling triumphantly, I reach for the napkin wrapped around my silverware and dab at the front of my dress, even though I don’t think any of his orange rainbow actually landed on me. That’s when the first of my giggles escapes. It’s even funnier now because everyone in the restaurant is staring at the handsome man in front of me as he tries to mop up his spewed beverage, looking thoroughly ashamed.

“I can’t believe you said that,” he whispers and then chuckles when he peeks up at me while he continues to clean. I’m still giggling when the waitress places our food in front of us.

“Can I get you anything else?” the young, pretty woman asks.

“Actually,” I say to her without looking at Lawson, “Could we get a few more napkins, and is it too late to get a side of sausage?”

“Sure. Links or patties?” she asks.

“Oh, definitely links,” I say, and Lawson tries to cover his bark of laughter with a cough.

“You’re evil,” he tells me as soon as she walks away.

“You were persistent,” I reply with a shrug, now lifting my own juice to slowly sip on it so I don’t make the same mistake as him.

Leaning forward again on his elbows, Lawson whispers, “Is that really what you were thinking, or were you just…pulling my leg?”

“Ha!” I bark out a laugh at the terminology he used before I answer with my palm held up proudly in the air. “I swear on all that is holy – Jesús, my El Camino.”

“You’re hilarious,” he says with a shake of his head, grabbing the syrup and drizzling it over his pancakes. I’m unable to suppress the jealousy I have for that lucky, fluffy stack, wanting his syrup drizzled on me so he can lick it off.

“Thanks,” I reply to his compliment. “Most people just think I’m a dorky tomboy. Girls think I’m too rude, and the guys I date don’t think I act girly enough.”

“When you look like you do, you don’t have to act girly,” Lawson says absently as he cuts a triangle out of his pancake stack.

“Because it’s pointless to wear makeup or dress up since I’m a lost cause?” I ask, but he shakes his head.