Pinky Promises, page 9
Outside, I clicked unlock on the truck, and she hopped in.
All of her bare truths had given me a bit of courage. And I owed it to her to tell her one not-so-minor detail about having sex with me. I climbed in the cab and put the key in the ignition. But instead of turning it, I scratched my head and swiveled over to her.
“There’s something I should probably tell you.”
“Anything.”
Her answer gave me pause. Because I had a strong feeling that she was once again right. I let out a long breath, and my heart thumped. I didn’t want to blow my chances, but there was something I needed to warn her about.
I closed my eyes and cringed. “I’m kinda…” God, it was embarrassing to say it out loud. “Big.” With the word out, I dared a peek over to Leyla, whose expression hadn’t changed.
“And?”
“Sometimes it’s not all that pleasurable for my partner.”
Leyla’s lips pouted. “Do you think I should go back and get lube?”
Leave it to her to find the practical side.
“No, it’s just, I’m letting you know…”
“Adam…” She touched her hand to my forearm, and our eyes met. In a tone that warmed my chest and slowed my heart, she said, “I stretch my body for a living. I’m pretty sure I know what I can and cannot take. I’m sorry if I’m overwhelming you. But this morning, after you left me in a puddle of need, I thought if you ever did that again, I would rip your fucking clothes off.” She winked.
Leyla really was the prefect rebound for me. Not only did she not resemble Holly physically, so there would be no mistaking who I was with, their personalities shared nothing in common. It wasn’t just because the air between Leyla and me was electrically charged, it was her acute ability to put me at ease.
“Anyway,” she said as she stretched the seatbelt over her chest. “I didn’t want to be in the middle of it and then have you call me a name or try and choke me out and be like, ‘damn, I should have told Adam I hate that shit,’ because it would have totally ruined it for me.”
I cranked the engine and shifted into reverse. “Are you always like this?” It was a stupid question. From the moment I’d met her, Leyla had spouted off random truths.
“Like what?”
“No filter. You literally have no filter.”
“Oh. Yeah.” She nodded, and I drove us home as she beamed with pride, telling me about one of her yoga students and how much progress he’d been making.
11
LEYLA
Adam lifted my roly-poly bag out of the back of his truck and carried it up the steps to my door. I followed, protesting, but grateful. I hated lugging around that eyesore, but it served a greater purpose than fashion.
A small part of me wanted to kiss him on the cheek and thank him that way, but he’d said no sweetheart crap. We were going to be a quick rebound for him, like a palate cleanser. And me, I would get some much-needed sexy time. Some fucking intimacy. A human being was going to reach out and touch me. Instead of me touching them, like at yoga. Plus, I hated commitment. A rebound was right up my alley. Literally. Everybody would win. We should have thrown confetti.
But I may have been just a teensy bit overwhelming to the bean pole. Who was apparently more like a beanstalk. Not that I hadn’t known. Well, assumed after what I’d heard Emily and what’s-her-name say in the locker room. And had absolutely wanted to find out more.
“I’m going to put this stuff away and head to the beach with a book. I’ll catch you later, you massive beast of a man.”
Adam paused, but jogged down the stairs. I was glad. He needed some space to digest everything I’d told him. God, I really didn’t have a filter. Also, I hadn’t left much for his imagination. So much for a good chase. I’d basically told him it was go time whenever he wanted. I might need to work on my seduction game.
Or not. Fuck it.
How stupid or messed up had Holly been? There was no way a guy who kissed like Adam would need or deserve to be cheated on. Hell bells, I’d practically come. Well, not really. But I had been turned on. That was no lie.
After my groceries were put away, I grabbed my book and headed out of the door, not bothering to stop and see Adam on the way. Space. If we wanted to play the ‘no strings attached’ card right, we couldn’t be in each other’s faces nonstop.
At the end of his garden and at the gate that led down to the beach, I ran into Bryan. “Hey. I was just heading in to check on the sulking sucker.”
That was harsh. But I guessed Bryan and Adam did that guy thing where their insults were terms of endearment. Actually, I was pretty sure I did that too.
“I think he’s in the garage,” I said with a little smile. My shoulder brushed Bryan’s as I passed through the gate.
“How’s he doing, anyway?”
Tricky question. If I’d let on that I knew, further inquiries might have come up. If I’d said that I didn’t know, he might think I was a cold-hearted bitch. Or worse, he’d know I was lying.
“Go see for yourself.” There. Take that, Bryan. Plus, I wouldn’t be telling any of Adam’s business. Not that there was much to tell. We’d kissed and talked about potentially having sex—it wasn’t a headline for the morning papers. “See ya.”
I moseyed down to the beach, found a spot without too many kids to kick sand in my face, and settled in. My book was at a particularly slow part, so I decided a nap would do me some good. PMS always made me sleepy.
“Here’s the thing.”
I opened my eyes to find Bryan sitting next to me. Had he followed me down?
He brought a knee to his chest and wrapped his arms around it. “Adam is a nice guy. One of the good ones. And I’m not sure the two of you hooking up is actually a good idea for him.”
Part of me wondered if Bryan was being selfish—he had hit on me before. I glanced down to his feet, battled a shiver, and raised an eyebrow.
“We haven’t hooked up.”
Bryan tucked his stubbled chin and leaned back. “I went around the corner, and he was whistling while he worked. You didn’t have anything to do with that?”
I stretched my arms up overhead and ignored Bryan checking me out. I had to admit, if I was the cause of Adam feeling better, I liked the idea.
“Listen. I get it. I’ve been his friend for fifteen years. Chicks like Adam. He didn’t score Holly from a raffle ticket.”
“And?” I propped myself up on my elbows.
“He’s not a player. That’s one of the reasons the ladies swoon. He’s going to get attached to you. Then you’re going to leave. Then it’s going to be worse.”
Okay, so maybe side-kick Bryan had a point. But he didn’t seem to be in on Adam’s plan of us not going down the sweet road. We were going to literally tap into the chemistry between us. No feelings. Adam knew this would be sex only. And so did I. Hell, I’d offered to be a rebound. It implied short.
“I don’t see how it could be worse than he was those last two weeks.” Shit. Did that sound like a confession?
“Because you go bye-bye, and he goes back to Holly.”
Wait, what?
“He wouldn’t do that. She crushed him.”
“Leyla, you don’t get it. You’re from New York fucking City. You walk down your block, and you see a new person every day. Grover Beach is tiny. Take away the tourists, and it’s minuscule. His choices are limited.”
I stared out at the water. I’d never once thought that going back to Holly would be an option for Adam. Or what would happen to him once I left.
“I’m just saying, don’t make my friend fall for you. Don’t tear up his already mangled heart.” Bryan stood, gave me a solemn glare, and walked off.
Sheesh. I had officially been warned by the feelings police. But it was true. I didn’t know what would happen to Adam when I left. And I sure as shit didn’t want him the worse for wear. Also, while I liked Grover Beach, I was a New Yorker at heart. This was not my home.
My mind spun around, chasing its own tail until the sun started to set and its warmth disappeared. I gathered my towel and unread book and headed back to the house. My hand was on the railing and I was ready to walk up to my studio when Adam stuck his head out from around the corner.
“Hey!” He beamed. “Come and see what you think about the seats and shoe cubbies.” He jacked his thumb toward the garage.
Even though Bryan’s lecture was heavy in my heart, I couldn’t deny Adam and his enthusiasm for my suggested project. I dropped my stuff on the bottom step and followed him into the garage.
On a large tilted table, three sheets of drawings were taped side by side.
“This one is the most stylish, this one is practical, and this one is a bit of both.” He pointed at the corresponding sketches, each in pencil and 3-D, complete with measurements.
I passed my fingers over the papers then looked up to his shining blue eyes. “You did all this, just based on my suggestion?” I may have batted my eyelashes. Damn it. But Bryan was right. Adam was fucking dreamy.
“I’ve never heard of PMS affecting a person’s memory, but you know, it’s my job. I’m a carpenter. I build things out of wood.” Adam reached for the pencil behind his ear and added a cushion on top of the stool in the third drawing. “I made them the standard seat size, so finding pillows won’t be hard. I can even ask my mom to make them.”
I realized I was a little bit under his spell, but the man had said ‘wood’ and ‘hard’ in the previous thirty seconds. Surely his slips were Freudian. Ugh. I hated Bryan and his lecture. Any other time, I would have used the opportunity to make a sex joke.
“You don’t have to let me know right now. Unless you hate them all.” He scratched his trim stomach and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his shorts.
“I love them.”
“Okay, good. Go get ready for dinner, I’m gonna change and start the grill.”
As soon as I’d turned around, his hand smacked my ass. It stung for a second and stopped me in my tracks.
“Go!” he insisted. “Unless you want another one of those.”
It must have been the day of trick questions, and I’d missed the memo. But I skedaddled up to my place, rinsed off the sand from the beach, and was back down in his kitchen before I had enough time to think about what to do.
“You want a beer?” Adam opened his fridge, leaned down and grabbed the lamb chops he’d bought earlier.
“Nah. I’m all good. Have to teach all day tomorrow. Three classes a day are way more exhausting than I thought they’d be.”
He closed the door and winked. “You? Tired? What’s that like?”
“It happens.” I leveled his gaze.
On the counter, a salad bowl was filled with chopped vegetables. “When did you have time to make the salad? I would have done it.”
“Oh, yeah. Bryan stopped by. His mom has a garden, and they had too much. You know he still lives at home, right? Just in case he tries to charm you.”
I reached for the plates and walked them over to the table. “I don’t think he’s interested in me.”
The gears of the pepper grinder hummed against the corns as he prepared the meat. “You are hilarious today, Shorty. Everyone is interested in you. You’re fresh meat. Just like these lamb chops. Oh my God, we just found you a new nickname.”
Ah! His bubbly energy was adorable. How was I supposed to decide to behave or not when he was so dang distracting?
Adam flipped the meat and continued, “It’s true, by the way. Even the girls are interested in you. Emily called me last week to check in and was asking me tons of questions about you.”
“Like what?” Why would that girl care about me? The silverware drawer clanked shut with a push from my hip.
“She wanted to know when you were leaving. I assume she likes your classes.”
“Maybe she hates them.” Although it wouldn’t make any sense why she was there almost every night of the week. “Maybe she hates me.”
“Nobody hates you, lamb chop.” He grinned from ear to ear. “That really is the perfect name for you.” Adam scooped up the serving tray and whipped around the island and out of the door to the grill.
With no salad to make and the table set, I sat on the couch and closed my eyes. Four days of three classes, one day of a double, then one on Saturday. For two more months. Roughly a hundred and twenty more sessions before I could relax. Thank God for Sundays. And I still needed to decide where I was going to travel to after. Up to San Francisco for sure. Then maybe Canada? I would need to budget my money a little better.
At least my dad was all in favor of me traveling. He’d always said he felt guilty that he couldn’t afford to show me more of the world. In an odd way, me leaving him had made him more proud than sad.
Adam cleared his throat from across the room. Holy crap. How long had I been day-dreaming?
“Dinner’s ready.” He stood behind his chair with his arms straight and hands on the back of it.
“Right.” I jumped up. “Smells amazing. You’re going to spoil me rotten with your free meals.” And help me save money for my trip.
We both sat and placed our napkins on our laps at the same time. The red juice of the lamb seeped onto my plate as I cut the chop. Perfectly cooked. No surprise there. I moaned my approval through my closed mouth as I chewed.
“Simmer down. It’s not that amazing.”
But it was. And he kinda was too. And now he’d given me another nickname. How was that not sweet? He was breaking his own rule, and we hadn’t gotten past first base. He’d said everyone was interested in me. To what extent did that include him?
“You’re right. This is boring.” No! The worst choice of words ever. I could practically see the arrow of the word ‘boring’ pop his ego as his face fell.
Adam’s eyes dropped to his plate, and I’d done it again. Shit.
“I’m sorry. As you said, I seem to lack a filter, and stupid shit flies out of my mouth.”
“It’s fine.” Adam tossed his napkin on his plate. “You done?”
“Yeah. But I’ll clean up. It’s the least I can do.”
Adam flipped on the TV and perched on the couch. The gentle voiceover lulled from over my shoulder about the migration of man from Asia to North America.
I loaded the plates in the dishwasher and stared at the utensils in the sink as the water ran over them. No. Fuck that. Sure, I was tired. Sure, I’d flubbed. And sure, I’d been warned not to make him like me. But I was also pretty damn sure he was on board for this rebound. For fuck’s sake, he’d bought the damn condoms. What other kind of green light did I need? A permission slip from his parents?
I tapped the faucet off, wiped my hands on a kitchen towel, then threw it on the counter. And if he didn’t want any sweet shit, fine by me. I crossed the room, straddled him, and blocked his view to the boring shit behind me.
“Leyla, I told you…”
Oh, no. Sulking Adam and his warped idea that this was somehow me having mercy on his poor, neglected soul was not invited to my party.
“Shut the fuck up, Adam.” If breathy annoyance laced with lust were a tone, I’d nailed it. I pressed my lips hard against his and grinded against his crotch. I wrapped my arms behind his neck. His tense shoulders softened, but his kissing was more reactionary and passive than I’d hoped. Although, his hands had made it to my ass. And squeezed. But he was holding something back.
I pulled away. “Give me your pinky.”
“What?”
I widened my eyes and pursed my lips.
Adam let go of my left butt cheek and threaded his arm under my right one. I locked my little finger with his and looked into those beautiful blue eyes.
“I, Leyla, hereby promise that if Adam does something to me that I don’t like, I will tell him and not be weird about it.” I wiggled in his lap—there was definitely some growing interest below his belt—and smirked. “Your turn.”
“You want me to say the same thing? What are you planning on doing to me?” His voice cracked, but the tiny smile on his handsome face hinted at frisky.
“Nothing you don’t like. So, promise me if you don’t like it you will tell me, and we will not be weird.”
Adam closed his eyes, and his grip on my pinky tightened. He opened his eyelids halfway, and a new look hung between us. It was heavier, primal, serious. It was fucking hunger like I’d never seen before.
He tugged my hand towards him. “I promise.” His warm breath hit my neck and he nipped my earlobe. That voice, that fucking calm, quiet, voice that sent ripples through my body said, “Get naked.”
12
ADAM
Leyla’s tight little body shivered in my lap. I’d done that. I’d caused that fucking exquisite reaction in a beautiful, sexy-as-shit woman. And I already needed more. This other side of her, the vixen or kitten or I didn’t actually know what, was even more captivating than her natural quirky but caring personality.
Her weight shifted closer to my knees, and her spine rounded as her arms dragged across my shoulders. She licked her lovely lips, swallowed as if to say ‘challenge accepted’ or ‘game fucking on’. Who knew what went on in that gorgeous head? Either way, she crossed her arms at the hem of her hoodie, pulled it off in a quick swoop, and threw it behind the couch.
Gold. The gold lace of two triangles and some strings barely covered her breasts. True, there wasn’t much behind the fabric, but it didn’t matter. Her confidence in what she’d presented more than made up for her cup size. And the color matched the small flickers in her eyes.
The desire to touch the newfound treasures burned inside me, but the curiosity of what she’d do next stifled the flame. Leyla slinked backward off of my lap and stood. Slowly, heavenly, and somewhat torturously, she unbuttoned her cut-offs. Holding her gaze was a struggle. I already needed to see what awaited behind her shorts.
They dropped to the floor with a soft thud. Sure enough, strings of gold lace barely covered what was sure to be bliss. My bones ached for her, and my cock strained, delighted at the prospect of any attention that might be thrown its way.
