The Firefly Effect (15 page)

“Fancy meeting you here.”

I laugh softly as he nuzzles my neck.

“Do you have any idea what an amazing woman you are?” he murmurs against my throat.

I want to tell him the feeling is mutual, that I've never in my life met anyone quite like him, but I don't dare. It's far too soon. The last thing I want to do is give him false illusions of something more permanent.

I learned that lesson the hard way.

But my mouth clearly isn't listening to my head, because I surprise myself by saying, “You're pretty amazing yourself.”

“I didn't hurt you, did I?”

“No. Not at all.” I'll probably be sore tomorrow, but I can't say it wasn't worth it.

“I may have gotten a little carried away. Sorry if I was too rough with you.”

“You weren’t.” A warm blush creeps across my cheeks. “I mean...I liked it.”

“Mm. I could tell.” Taking my hands, he pulls until I’m sitting upright. Then he’s gathering up his clothes from the floor, asking, “So, Felony. Same time tomorrow?”

Is that supposed to be a joke? Well, he does have a weird sense of humor so I’ll take it as such. “Sounds like a plan. How about I check my calendar app and get back to you with an appointment time?”

“How about you reserve the next couple of days expressly for me?” Dropping the pile of clothes on the bed beside me, he retrieves those sexy black jockeys and steps back into them. “Considering I have you as a captive audience anyway.”

“Well, I suppose I could think of worse ways to pass the time.” Leaning back on my elbows, I grin playfully.

“So you’re saying it was better than a root canal, hm?” Placing one hand on my knee, he bends down to kiss my forehead. “Would you like me to tuck you in?”

“Actually I need to make a trip to the bathroom first.”

“All right then. I’ll let you have some privacy.” Scooping up his clothes, he saunters off in the direction of the bedroom door. “Good night. Sleep well.”

My smile fades. “Where are you going?”

He turns his head to give me a blank look. “I’m going to bed. Why?”

Is he
serious?
“You…um, well, you could sleep in here, you know. With me.”

His hand on the doorknob, he hesitates for a moment before gently reminding me, “This was just sex, Melanie. Nothing more. Remember?”

I stare at him, speechless, as my own words are thrown right back in my face.

“Get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

My lips part in stupefied silence as the door closes behind him. Well. I guess I asked for that one, didn’t I? Talk about a record case of wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am. My gosh, he didn’t even stick around long enough for the bed to cool off. Would it have killed him to cuddle with me for a few minutes? Or maybe just sit and talk for a while?

It occurs to me that maybe he really
is
mad about what I said, and this is his way of retaliating.

I shouldn’t feel hurt by his brushoff but dammit, it bothers me just the same.

Sighing to myself, I get to my feet and start collecting my own discarded clothing. I tell myself it’s better this way. If he isn’t emotionally tied to me, then nothing can go wrong. It’s just a few days of fun with all the rules spelled out in advance. He won’t expect more from me than I’m willing to give.

He won’t stalk me.

Won’t harass, threaten or chase me.

Won’t show up at my house with a loaded gun and bad intentions.

I have to remind myself that it’s all for the best. No strings attached means no strings to bind me.

Nobody can get hurt this way. It’s fool-proof.

It’s just sex, after all.

Right?

~ Chapter Fourteen ~

It's almost ten o’clock before I finally drag my grouchy ass out of bed and stumble into the bathroom to take a shower. I didn't sleep worth a shit. Normally sex is a surefire sedative, but that definitely wasn't the case last night. I must have tossed and turned for hours, trying to talk myself out of revisiting Melanie’s room and spending the rest of the night making sure she didn’t get any sleep either.

Damn my stubborn pride. I admit, I left too soon. Once with her wasn't nearly enough, and the raging boner that reared its head – no pun intended – fifteen minutes after I crawled between the sheets was proof of that.

But what else was I supposed to do? I don't know what she's trying to pull, but she can't have her goddamn cream-filled Twinkies and eat them too. Did she really expect me to hang around and keep her company after her little
this-is-just-sex
speech?

Maybe she thought I would appreciate her honesty. Yeah, and maybe I would too, if for one second I was willing to buy it. Let’s get real. With women, there is no such thing as
just sex
. She didn't come up with that crap out of some noble desire to prevent any misunderstandings from cropping up later. It's her own ass she's trying to cover. I'm not stupid enough to believe she's actually worried about what
I
think.

So what’s her story, anyway?

Is she still under the impression that I'm not good enough for her? Wouldn’t surprise me. I wonder what it is she recalls when she looks at me. Is it still the trashy smartmouth kid with the Goodwill clothes and laughable grades? I did everything I could to overcome that image after things at home improved. After Mom decided she'd finally had enough of supporting that deadbeat alcoholic and sent his sorry ass packing.

Best decision she ever made, if you ask me.

As far as I’m concerned, Parnell Becker never existed.

I open the curtains and gaze outside at the gray clouds skimming across a dark, mottled sky. The wind is really kicking up out there and it looks like the bottom could fall out any minute. I had hoped for a cup of coffee first but from the looks of things, that’ll have to wait. I need to go ahead and secure the house before it starts raining.

It doesn’t take that long to go around closing and locking the accordion shutters on the windows and patio doors. Still, by the time I come back inside the aroma of sizzling bacon is already permeating the air. Melanie’s up, apparently. The racket from the aluminum shutters clattering along their tracks probably woke her. I wonder if she slept better than I did.

I fucking hope not.

I walk into the kitchen to find her hovering over the stove in nothing but a white satin robe, and my dick springs to life as my eyes are drawn to her perky round bottom. It kinda wiggles back and forth as she whisks something in a bowl. Damn, breakfast and a show – how lucky can a guy get? What a glorious vision to start the day with.

She turns her face to give me a brief smile before returning her attention to what I assume is pancake batter. There’s a box of Bisquick on the counter. “Good morning.”

“Morning, pretty lady.” Sidling up beside her, I peer into the bowl. “What is that, blueberry pancakes? Hope you’re making enough for two. I could eat a horse.”

“Oh, gee, that’s a shame. Unfortunately there aren’t a lot of recipes for horse floating around on the internet, so I hope bacon and pancakes will suffice.” She bumps me playfully with her hip.

I grin at her silliness. “Well. Someone’s in a good mood.”

“Sorry.” Scowling, she announces in a deep voice, “There. Now I’m Spongebob Seriouspants. Is this better?”

“Not really. Now you just look insane.”

“Hey! Don’t lump me in with you, pal.”

“For your sake, I hope you’re not that crazy.” She is so damn cute, I can’t help but give that tempting rear end a good firm pinch. Her yelp of surprise is ear-piercingly shrill. Before I have a chance to duck, she slings the whisk at me and I wind up with pancake batter on my face and in my hair.

Standing very still, I wipe batter from my eyelid and gaze at her with what I hope is a deadpan expression. “Okay then. That was nice. I always wanted a blueberry facial. Thank you very much for that. I hope you’re happy, now I have to take another shower.”

Pressing her lips together, she widens her eyes innocently. “That’s not all.”

“That’s not all?” I’m not sure what she means.

“Nope.” Dipping her hand into the bowl, she scoops out a glop of batter and smears it across my shirt. “You also have to do laundry.”

My mouth falls open, but even in my astonishment I can’t hold back a laugh. “You little witch!” I make a grab for the bowl but she sees it coming and has it clenched in a death grip, so soon we’re engaged in a tug-of-war.

“No! No! Let go!” she shrieks between giggles.

“If you insist.” Abruptly I let go and let physics handle the rest. Now she has a sticky mess all over the front of her robe as well, and the bowl is bouncing across the kitchen tile, scattering blobs of pancake batter all over. We’re both scrambling to get to it first, wrestling with one another, and when I fall on my knees she leaps onto my back, squealing in my ear.

“
Nooooo!
No you don’t! Give it back! Gimme, it’s mine!” Reaching over my shoulder, she swipes her hand into the bowl that I’ve secured and rubs the contents messily into my hair. “Ooh! Your hair is so squeaky clean! Tell me sir, what is your secret?”

By now I’m laughing so hard I have tears in my eyes. Scraping what’s left of the batter out of the bowl, I reach behind me and splatter it on top of her head. “Flour, milk, eggs and blueberries. It’s a trade secret of all the best salons. Here, have a free sample.”

“Aagghh! Oh sick, that feels gross! It’s all goopy!”

Tossing aside the now-empty bowl, I flip her gently off me and pin her to the floor on her back. The belt around her robe has loosened, and from the quick glimpse I catch it is clear she is wearing nothing underneath. “Girl, I hate to tell you this but you are a mess.”

“Well…you…you look like the Pillsbury Doughboy!” Her eyes are sparkling with mirth. “You smell good, though.”

“Good enough to eat?”

“Maybe. Lemme check.” Raising her head a bit, she licks the side of my face. “Mm. Blueberry-ey.”

“Yeah? And what flavor are you?” I figure shoving my tongue down her throat is the best way to find out, so that’s what I do. She responds instantly, kissing me back with equal enthusiasm, and when she folds one leg around me I know without a doubt we’re about to get busy right there on the kitchen floor.

Fumbling with my zipper, I ask no questions and waste no time sliding my unsheathed cock inside her. It’s not a smart thing to do. I know better than to have unprotected sex. I know good and goddamn well how stupid it is. But my God, her warm little pussy is already so delightfully wet. I fucking love that. I love how hot she is for me. For
me
. If anyone had suggested a few days ago that I’d be rolling around on the floor with my dick buried in Melanie Lane, I’d have told them they should lay off the drugs and check into a treatment facility.

I manage to bring myself back down to earth long enough to ask, “Are you using any kind of birth control or do I need to pull out?”

“I’m covered,” she pants, lifting her hips to meet my thrusts. “What about you? Are you safe?”

“I’m clean. You’re safe with me, babydoll.” Inwardly I’m rejoicing the fact that I don’t have to stop what I’m doing. This feels beyond incredible. “You’re…safe…with me,” I chant, every muscle tensing in an effort to stop myself from coming too soon.

The soft whisper of her moan is all it takes. I explode inside her fast and hard, before she has a chance to reach orgasm herself, but in my defense I could not for the life of me hold back. There was no way. I’ll have to make it up to her later. I have no problem with that at all.

I roll on my back and pull her on top of me so she’ll be a little more comfortable. The tile floor is hard. “Shit. Sorry about that.”

“About what?”

“The bottle rocket sex.” Jesus, how embarrassing. I’ve never blown a load so fast in my life. “I’ve never done this without a condom before. That was…” What was it like? Like a supernova in my balls exploded out the end of my cock, but maybe that’s not the most appropriate thing to say right now. “There are no words.”