Hard Work, page 3
I crash into his lap. His arms release their hold, one hand going to my ass, the other grabbing hold of my ponytail and roughly jerking back as I grip his head and tug his lips forward to slam into mine.
This isn’t a soft, exploratory first kiss. This is urgent, hungry… plundering. My fingers tug the short brown strands of his hair. His hand on my ass presses me hard against him, his muscular thighs taking my weight as I hold on for dear life at a kiss, I know I’ll be replaying for many a night to come.
He growls into my mouth when I roll my tongue against his. I whimper when he nips my bottom lip before going deep once again.
I pour all of my previously held-back hunger into the connection, never wanting it to end, knowing at any moment, Cohen’s conscience could come crashing back into existence and—
Something on the table vibrates, cutting through the haze of lust and taking our kiss from sixty to zero with the constant rattle on wood—one that isn’t my hips grinding into his.
Two hands go to my hips, and I’m shifted back onto the couch cushions. Cohen’s eyes are blown, his chest heaving, his lips parted as he stares at me. His expression is a mixture of lust, confusion, want, and shock.
I lift my hand to my face, my index finger tracing my swollen mouth, my gaze glued to my best friend, my partner, who now looks guilty as sin and in need of an out.
He goes to say something but stops, his attention dropping to the still ringing phone on the table beside him.
He lifts his eyes back to mine. “I’ve got to…”
I give him his out. Will the kiss have ramifications? You bet your ass it will. Do I regret it for a second? I didn’t… but Cohen’s reaction has me second-guessing everything I’d previously thought.
I wave my hand toward his phone. “Answer it.” I take my own opportunity to escape, standing and walking to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. Bracing my hands on the vanity, I stare at myself in the mirror. Messed up hair? Check. Flushed cheeks? Check. Puffy, red, thoroughly kissed lips? Yes, sir. Regret? Not for the kiss, but maybe for the awkwardness it’s undoubtedly going to cause in a few minutes once Cohen’s finished his call.
I contemplate staying here until I know he’s gone. I could run a bath, take an hour-long shower, sit on the toilet and count the individual blue flowers on my dated wallpaper. Am I going to? I’m undecided.
A few moments later there’s a knock on the door.
“Skye…” Cohen’s voice is soft and gentle. It’s the same tone he uses with the family of patients we’ve lost. It’s also the one he’s used on me when a particularly hard callout rattles me.
It’s quite possibly the worst choice he could make right now because while I may not regret kissing my best friend, him sounding like that means he does.
I take a deep breath, quickly fix my hair and splash water on my face, dust myself off, and turn back toward the door.
After unlocking it, I swing it open and plaster a smile on my face as I walk out into the living area. Cohen is leaning a hip against my dingy, seen-better-days counter, his phone in his hand, his clothes righted. His head tips up from the ground, his gaze locking with mine.
I opt for moving on and not addressing anything to do with what went down ten minutes ago.
“Hey. Do you want a coffee before you go?” I ask cheerfully, walking around him and into the kitchen to my Keurig.
“Skye, we should—”
“Travel mug, or are you staying for a bit?” With my back to him, it’s easier to keep this conversation moving. Denial is key in this situation.
“Skye, will you turn around and look at me?” he asks in that heartbreakingly gentle voice of his.
Powerless to stop my body from acquiescing, I slow spin to face him. “Yeah?”
“I don’t know what to say without making this more awkward.”
I sigh internally. Males. They think a kiss has to mean more than just a kiss. “Look, Co. I woke up in the middle of the night, needing to pee. I did that, and on my way back to bed, I put a blanket over you. You said I was cold and then pulled me down to snuggle with you. I woke up, you were happy to see me—in your sleep—and then you freaked out when you realized it was me you were grinding up against.” He opens his mouth to talk but I’m on a roll. “Then we argued, things got heated, then things got hot, and we were saved by the bell, or the phone, which stopped us before we both did something that would get you in shit with my brothers and that would most likely—but I’d hope it wouldn’t—make things awkward between us.”
His brows are lifted high, but given the opportunity to argue, he doesn’t. Onward and upward, Skye Rossi.
“And I don’t want that to happen—the awkwardness, I mean—because that would suck, and we work well together. You’re my best friend, and I wouldn’t want any physical attraction we have and the obvious male/female dynamic we’ve got going on, to ruin our friendship or working relationship. Okay?”
“Ah… yeah…”
“Is there anything I didn’t cover in all of that rambling?” I ask with a wry grin.
His shoulders visibly relax, and when his eyes turn from worried to amused, I breathe a sigh of relief.
I shrug. “I may be able to separate the physical act of sex from a friendship, but that’s not necessarily the case for all people. So I get that.”
His head jerks back. “The physical act of sex?”
“Yeah. Sometimes it’s just sex. Sex is fun. It’s definitely relaxing, and it’s a good way to start, pass, or end the day. It doesn’t have to be all hearts and flowers, and worrying about one or the other getting attached and catching feelings. Sex can just be sex.”
He looks at me with an indiscernible expression. Does he think I’ve completely lost the plot, or if he’s teleported into another universe? I decide to just lay it all out there. Go big or go home.
“So, in closing, if you think you can separate sex from all the other bullshit, I’m open to it. With you, I mean. ’Cause you’re a damn good kisser and I’ve wondered for months whether the reputation precedes the man. And if the way you kiss is an indication of how you are in bed, I’d be a fool not to let you know I’d be open to no-strings, no-bullshit, just-sex sex… with you.”
“I… I don’t know what to say.”
I shrug. “That’s okay. I thought I’d clear the air, explain what happened this morning and how I came to be lying next to you. I wouldn’t want you to think I laid back and thought of England for just anyone.”
“I’ve been known to hold full conversations while sleeping,” he says, his cheeks flushing an adorable pink. “But I don’t think… I mean, I don’t know if us crossing that line—more than we already have—is a good idea. We’ve got a good thing going here, don’t we? With work and as friends. It’s hard for most people to keep things as cut and dried as you said.”
“You mean, most women? ’Cause I know you’ve not exactly been a saint since I’ve known you, and none of those women have been girlfriends.”
“No, but they haven’t been you.” Straight through the heart with that one.
“Okay, Co,” I say softly. I do mean it, but I can also admit a part of me is a little disappointed that he didn’t even consider exactly what I pretty much just spelled out for him. Yes, Co, I’d totally bang your brains out and enjoy it, and not expect a cuddle or call the next day. “You’re right. We should put this morning down to a curiosity that we’ve now sated, and we’ll just forget it happened.”
“Not sure I’ll be forgetting that in a hurry,” he mutters, his lips curving into a half-smile as he meets my eyes. “No hard feelings, brat?” he says, closing the distance between us and holding his arms open.
“Of course not, you doofus. Although you were pretty har—”
He groans and shakes his head, a quiet chuckle rumbling in his chest.
“At least now I know the rumors about you are true…” I whisper in his ear, earning me a light tap on the ass before we pull apart and grin at each other.
“Are you sure?” he asks, his eyes roaming my face. “I don’t want things to be uncomfortable between us. I know I crossed a line, and I apologize. I’m really sorry, Skye, I don’t—”
“If you keep asking me if I’m okay, you’ll soon learn the meaning of twisted testicles, and not in a ha ha joking way, either.”
He jumps back and puts his hands over his crotch. “Okay, okay. Leave my junk out of this.”
“As opposed to—”
“Skye…” he grumbles, deep and low. I’m not ashamed to admit that particular tone of his voice will also be going on high rotation when I need spank-bank material after he leaves.
“Oh, all right. Jeez. Who knew Cohen Casanova Cook couldn’t take a sex joke.”
He looks to the ceiling as if wanting divine intervention. “I’m gonna go and get some real sleep before our shift tonight.”
“Yeah, me too. Who knew my couch wasn’t built for two? Well, me, you and that massive—by the way, who was it on the phone? We should probably thank them, right?”
“It was the chief cock-blocker, Jamie.”
“Everything okay?” I ask, wondering why Jamie would call Cohen early on a Sunday morning.
“Yeah. He just wanted to check in and see if I could swing by his place later to finalize arrangements.”
“For here?” Jamie and his brothers—Cohen included—bought my three-flat building, and I’m the only tenant who’s staying behind.
Cohen stops at my front door and suddenly won’t meet my eyes.
“Cohen? What’s going on? Is it to do with the renovations?”
He reaches up and rubs the back of his neck. I get the feeling there’s something he’s not saying. “Yeah, it’s to do with the flip.”
“Okay. So what aren’t you telling me?”
“How is it you can read me like a book?”
“Because you’re pretty damn obvious. Out with it. What’s going on?”
“I meant to tell you. I was just waiting until we had a start date.”
“Okay… and?”
“We’re starting Monday week.”
Now, I’m frowning. “That’s good. I don’t know why you look like a guilty teenager about to confess all. I’ve already sat down with Jamie and the building-site foreman about the timeline, and they’ve assured me they’ll keep disruption down to a minimum.”
“That’s good. I made it clear we had to be considerate.”
“I don’t see what the problem is then.”
“Since it’s a big job, we decided that someone should be on-site.”
“And…”
He lifts his head, looks me straight in the eye, and almost winces when he announces, “Surprise. I guess you could say I’m your new landlord.”
Um… God? Yeah, it’s me, your semi-loyal servant, Skye. That divine intervention Cohen was looking for? I’m going to need you to get right on that because I can see the forecast, and I’m now predicting awkward.
Send help.
Cohen
To say the last twelve or so hours have been one hell of a mind-fuck is an understatement.
I’m still reeling from the fact I pulled Skye onto the couch with me and woke up dry-humping her in what I remember to be the hottest fucking dream I can remember. It felt so real, and I was so close to busting a nut. When I woke up right on the precipice and realized just where I was and that the star of my hot-as-fuck sleep fantasy was actually not so much a dream but almost an awkward reality, I literally couldn’t move off that couch fast enough.
Not only was it wrong on many levels, but her brothers—maybe mine as well—would cut off my dick for even touching Skye, let alone doing what I almost did.
Then she was in my face, and I could barely think straight. My only thought was how fucking amazing she felt against me.
When she launched herself at me, my hard-on was back on board, and the moment her tongue touched mine, I was done for.
Had Jamie not called, there’s no telling what would’ve happened—or how far we might have gone.
Now though, I’m parked outside Jamie’s house in my car, hands gripped on the steering wheel, my mind still back in Skye’s kitchen with those skimpy sleep shorts and long tanned legs that go on for miles. Her hard nipples poked through her thin-as-hell T-shirt as she stood there, blowing my mind about her attitude toward sex being a physical act between consenting adults, no feelings necessary.
I thought I knew Skye, not just as a colleague and trusted workmate, but a best friend. You don’t spend as much time together as we do and not get close.
Yet I had no fucking idea she thought like most men when it came to getting laid. I’m both surprised and impressed, and I’m neither surprised or impressed easily.
The one area of her life Skye keeps to herself is her love life, and out of respect for her, I’ve done the same. It’s not that I’ve hidden anything on purpose—we just don’t talk about it. Probably because her brothers work with us. It’s potentially more of a self-preservation method for her than anything else.
But after feeling her, tasting her, and then hearing her school me on the ability to keep sex and friendship separate, I can’t get it out of my damn head.
The idea was never a possibility, so I’d never let it even enter my mind, but now the door has been opened and I can’t not think about it.
You think you know someone and then—
Someone knocks on my window. I turn my head and meet the wide, gap-toothed grin of my eight-year-old nephew, Axel.
I wave, indicating he take a step back, then swing open the door, hopping out and closing it behind me. “Hey, Ax.”
“I lost two teeth last night, but the tooth fairy got drunk at Uncle Bry’s wedding party, so Mom says he will definitely come tonight.”
I bite my lip to stop myself from bursting out laughing.
Jamie told me that the tooth fairy, aka April—Jamie’s wife and Axel’s mom—did, in fact, get rather inebriated after I left with Skye and was feeling a little under the weather this morning.
This is why Jamie and I are killing two birds with one stone—taking Ax out for lunch and organizing the final details for my move into Skye’s building this week.
I ruffle Ax’s hair, his abundant energy and cheerfulness contagious. “I bet the tooth fairy will pay double if you write her a note.” I bend down to his level. “She loves notes from boys who’ve been waiting ages to lose teeth like you have.”
His eyes widen, and his smile is huge. “You think? I could buy so much stuff with double tooth money. Even more than I can buy when you and Uncle Jax say fu—”
“Axel…” Jamie says in his gruff “dad” voice, coming up behind his son. To his credit, Ax looks back up at my brother and attempts to appear apologetic.
“I was going to say fun, Dad. I swear,” he says, shooting innocent puppy-dog eyes at his father.
Jamie smirks. “Sure, buddy. I believe you, but maybe don’t tempt fate by saying words so close to adult words you know you’re not supposed to say. Okay?”
“Yeah, Dad,” he says, shooting a mischievous grin my way.
“You wanna go inside and get your jacket? Just be quiet so your mom can sleep, yeah?”
“Yup,” Ax replies. “Be right back, guys.”
I chuckle as he runs back up the front path and into the house we renovated almost eleven months ago.
“Now that’s a thoughtful look. What’s up?” Jamie asks, snapping me from my thoughts.
“Huh?”
“You’re a million miles away.”
I shake my head. “Yeah, just had a crazy morning.”
“You walk in on Mom and Dad again?” he asks, chuckling.
I swallow down that particularly gross memory. “No, but thanks for reminding me.”
He reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. “Well, it won’t be an issue after this week. You’ll have your own place where you can come and go as you please without any therapy needed.”
I shake my head and laugh. “Yeah, can’t say I’ll miss that. Not that I’ll be there much.”
“But when you are, you know we can always do with another pair of hands.”
“Speaking of that. I told Skye, so no need to keep it to yourself anymore.”
Jamie nods. “Good. Not sure why you didn’t tell her sooner, but I trust your reasons.”
“I just wanted to wait until it was certain. Can’t say her expression wasn’t worth it though,” I say with a smirk.
“Surprised, was she?”
“You could say that. But it helped me get out of an awkward—”
“Ready!” Ax appears beside us.
I grin down at him. “Damn, kid. Did you become a ninja overnight or something? I didn’t even hear you.”
The boy beams up at me. “Maybe,” he says, puffing out his chest. “Dad told me to be super quiet and let Mom sleep, so I made sure I engaged my ninja superpowers.”
Jamie winks at his son. “Did you lock the front door, buddy?”
“Yep.”
Jamie ruffles Ax’s hair. “Good boy. You ready for lunch?”
“Am I ever. I’m starving.”
“It’s only been an hour since you ate.”
Axel shoots Jamie a smirk well beyond his years. “I’m a growing boy. Mommy says so.”
I gently bump Ax with my hip. “Did she also say you can have a burger and a milkshake for lunch?”
His eyes go wide, and his head jerks to Jamie. “Can I, Dad?”
Jamie chuckles. “Only if we get in the car and stop talking about it.”
That’s all he needs to say. One second, Axel is standing beside us; the next, he’s jumping into Jamie’s truck.
My brother arches his brow. “You want a milkshake too, Co?” he teases, moving toward the driveway.
“Shut up and get moving, Dad,” I say, following him with a smile on my face, my uncertainty over this morning’s events with Skye momentarily forgotten.
