Down With Cupid Shorts Bundle (13 page)

His hands slid down from her face, the sides of her breasts to her waist again. His touch created an anxiousness, a warmth between her legs. She couldn’t look at him. Not while she tried to register each sensation, each emotion flitting through her head. He continued the caress, until her breath came out in gasps. So instead of trying to pin down one thought, she rested her head on his chest. Sam took in a breath, taking him into her senses again. She buried her face in his shirt. He smelled of laundry soap and man. She wanted to convince herself alcohol had nothing to do with the reaction.

“I’m drunk,” she said.

“A little hazy, but shhh. Dance with me.”

You know, that would probably be a good idea. Her head weighed a ton and her legs had turned to the consistency of Jell-O…shhh, she was dancing. Not able to place the song, she let him rock her to the beat.

Sam closed her eyes just in case the room started to spin. She breathed him in again and he smelled better than before. She wrapped her arms around his neck and sighed. In the back of Sam’s mind she knew this moment would end. She would have to admit Evan the IT Geek and she just weren’t made to fall in love.

He had a thing for computers and being a little too bossy. She’d spotted him at least once with a pocket protector for goodness sakes. But, oh, she ran her palms down his shoulders. The cotton glided beneath her hands and so did the muscles under the shirt. Being her hands were making there way farther down, she made a silent promise to listen to her friends next time. Scotch was not the cure all for a semi-broken heart. She also noted, lifting computers could afford you with sinew muscles that felt wonderful beneath a cotton shirt.

Finally the music penetrated through and she hummed with it. At this point it could have all just been in her head, but Evan rocked with her as the notes wrapped her in their embrace. His smell clouded her judgment even more. She opened her eyes, pulled back, lifted on tip-toes and kissed him.

The whiskey tasted different, better on his lips. Oh, God. She was kissing Evan. She liked kissing Evan. She wanted more of Evan than his mouth, wet and hot, on hers. Sam’s lips parted on a soft moan, and the world did spin. His tongue brushed along her bottom lip. She hungered not for more Scotch, but for him.

At some point they’d stopped rocking, but the world still didn’t feel steady. Her heart pounded in her ears, but she kept riding the wave of sensations Evan’s mouth created. Minutes later they came up for air. The secret joke still hadn’t returned a sparkle in his eyes, but this time the shine had everything to do with desire.

“My place or yours?” she purred.

He lowered his head again, kissing Sam until her chest burned from the rise of passion. She saw the apology in his eyes before he spoke. “I’ll get you a cab.”

With his comment still lingering in the air, he walked away. Sam stood there on the makeshift dance floor. Makeshift ’cause they’d danced in a space between the stereo and tables. She hadn’t noticed, which meant she was sobering up. Sam had been cast aside twice in one day, had to be a Valentine’s Day record. She jerked her head, left then right, to shake off the remnants of Evan clouding her thoughts, and came to the same conclusion she had earlier— sobriety was overrated.

*****

Sam placed the cold towel over her eyes. Saturday hadn’t brought any more clarity on what happened the night before. Only two things made sense: One, she was definitely over the ex. Two, Valentine’s day could burn in hell from now until the end of time. Add those to Samantha’s wisdom. But she still was thinking about kissing Evan again. She wanted to know how and why he had ended up so into her.

Me
.

Fixing someone’s work computer is no way to start a love that will stand the test of time. Really, was it love at first control-alt-delete? Sam went through every memory she had of Evan. Only two came to mind outside of last night.

The first time they had been introduced at work. She closed her eyes bringing the memory up, until that day played like a movie in her mind. She’d smiled at him. Probably the only real one she’d given him. The sparkle had been there too. They’d chatted about work and that’s it.

She sat up when the second memory made its way through the fuzz of the night before. They had lunch. Not just the two of them, but the whole department. He sat next to her. She squeezed her eyes tighter to see that day again.

Evan leaned over to her. “I have the sudden urge to tell our boss to remove his nose from the head guy’s ass.”

Sam had placed the napkin over her mouth, having thought the same, but would have never dared to say it out loud though. “Just pass him your napkin to wipe the brown off his nose. He’s been doing it for years, and has axed people in the past for mentioning it. Let your six months pass first that way you can at least get unemployment.”

The memory faded. She couldn’t remember any other detail about that lunch. She did recall having spent most of that lunch behind the stupid napkin, trading insulting quips about their boss. And, then he became Evan the IT Geek.

Someone knocked on the door, she groaned and kept the towel on her head. At this hour it could only be her neighbor to chastise Sam about stomping or showering while normal people slept.

She swung the door open, “Wha—”

The towel dropped from her head.
Evan
. Her eyes took all of him in. He’d hadn’t shaved, but the scruff gave him a broody, bad-boy appearance. His hair was cut close to his head. How had she thought him just an uber-geek?

She didn’t know. He looked better without the beer goggles. And then the shock wore off.
Oh, God
. She slammed the door in his face.

“Give me a moment.” She ran a hand over her hair and winced. “Don’t leave,” she yelled over her shoulder and ran to the bathroom.

One glance in the mirror confirmed her worst nightmare. Sam didn’t just look like she had spent a night in a bar, but an all night bar brawl. She brushed her hair, teeth, and grabbed a sweatshirt she’d thrown on the bathroom floor.

Sam double-checked her breath, and went back to the door. She wiped damp palms on the sweats and tried not to think about the bleach stains. He leaned against the stairwell, the same one he walked her up last night. He hadn’t left and she didn’t know why she wanted him to stay in the first place. A hot body and incredible kissing skills didn’t make for a relationship. Not to mention, she’d just got out of a relationship.

She opened her mouth to speak, Evan held up his hand. “When something is really funny you snort with laughter. You wrinkle your forehead when conflicted, like you are doing now. You bite your pens during meetings. I’ve never seen you drink coffee, and you were always nice to me. Even when you thought I was Evan the IT Geek.”

“Um.” She didn’t have scotch to blame this time. Sam swallowed the lump of emotion in her throat. She should have been scared he noticed all those things, but only her friends knew Sam like that. And, they’d known her for years.

“Well, I don’t know anything about you to make this like a
Lifetime
special moment. You know, when the couple gets together.”

He didn’t move toward her as she wished he would. The feelings of vulnerability were ridiculous. She had nothing to lose, but everything to gain.

“I’m not asking for your hand in marriage, so you don’t have to look scared.”

No, he wasn’t. “You’re asking me to trust you?”

Something she had went on at length the night before. Stupid, semi-drunken stupor. Just the thought of getting back on the relationship roller coaster had her heart pounding.

He smirked. “And, can I trust you?”

“Of course, you can.” Sam paused when that beautiful smirk crossed his face.
Okay, maybe he did know me a little bit
. She tilted her head, took him again. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to see past the pocket protector. Didn’t mean she hadn’t. More memories flooded through her brain.

She smiled back at him. “You hate mornings.”

“I do.”

Something else hit her. Why hadn’t she wanted to see it? “You mutter to yourself when you’re neck deep in work. It’s kind of cute.”

He lifted a brow. “Kind of?”

She snorted and a hand went up to her nose. Well, hell. “Ok. Very.”

“That’s it?” he asked.

No, but it didn’t make for long-lasting love, but it made a foundation. One that stood on steadier ground than anything else she’d ever experienced. “You don’t kick people when they’re down.”

“So, what do you say?” he asked. “It’s worth the risk?”

“Being single is a little overrated.”

He took a step toward her. “And?”

“You won’t be breaking up with me on Valentine’s day

since it was yesterday.”

Another step and she tried to fight the hum of attraction, of comfort and rightness urging her to meet him half-way.

“And,” he murmured, stopped moving.

She stepped out the door to him. Even with a late night binge he smelled of man and laundry soap. She barely stopped herself from burying her nose in his shirt. Waking up to a man that smelled like that. A man who noticed her idiosyncrasies. And maybe it was just him.

“I’m willing to take the risk,” she said.

The light came back into his eyes and she wanted to jump him. She wanted to kiss him. Evan the IT Geek. But then…shhh, she was kissing him.

End of Talk Nerdy to Me

The Sixteen Year Itch

The Sixteen Year Itch Published by Melissa Blue

Copyright 2012

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [email protected]

Cover Art by Melissa Blue

Self-Published Edition 2012

The Sixteen Year Itch

Morgan Stevens took in the pink and red heart-shaped balloons, the rows of endless chocolate in heart-shaped boxes, the heart-shaped greeting cards, and her stomach clenched.

“You know,” she said. “I really hate this holiday. It’s not even a week from now and everything is so…ugh.”

Alan, her best friend, laughed. The deep, silken trace of amusement colored his voice as he said, “Only because no one has ever asked you to be their Valentine,” he shrugged. “Could make anyone grumpy.”

Morgan took in the atmosphere again. She’d missed the naked babies armed with heart-shaped arrows. Oh, and the array of pink stuffed animals. It was like
Pepto-Bismol
on crack. “Definitely not grumpy. Naked babies with weapons? Who finds this heart-warming?”

She followed him down the card aisle. His long, easy strides ate up the floor. She tried not to watch the view from behind. He was her best friend of sixteen years. She wasn’t blind, but…you just didn’t check out your friend.

She rolled the discomfort from her shoulders. “Why did I get dragged into this again?”

“Because you love me.” The comment stopped her cold, until he continued. “And because you know what card my mother would like.”

The fear seizing Morgan’s heart loosened. He only saw her in a platonic fashion knowing someone since the age of five could make you see someone as nothing else. But there had been moments when things between them shifted like a crackle in the air. Moments when if she had leaned forward, just a little, the platonic part of their relationship would no longer exist.

Morgan never leaned forward and those moments passed as if she imagined the zing in the air.

There had been one of those moments just that morning when he reached behind her for a coffee mug. He had paused. Her breasts had been pressed against his muscled chest. Her heart had thudded
seeing, feeling
their mouths touching like she fantasized on too many nights to count. He had smiled down at her like a brother would and the moment evaporated like a puff of smoke. Another opportunity lost.

Morgan pulled her mind back to this moment. Nothing could come out of her crush-that-should-have-died-years-ago. They were friends. They’d always been and always would be friends.

In the near future, instead of years of hot, sweaty, monkey sex with Alan, Morgan consigned herself to be the one to tell him to put his teeth in. She’d stand in as his best man when he’d inevitably get married. She’d be the adopted aunt to his children instead of the mother of them. Something sharp and angry coiled in her gut.

“What’s wrong?” Alan asked softly.

She jerked a shoulder, forcing a nonchalant air. “The capitalist way of saying I love you with an oversized-balloon that says, “I love you, 'beary much' is getting to me. I think I’m developing an eye twitch.”

She pointed to her face. “I’m sure of it. Tell me, is my eye twitching?”

He reached out and cradled the side of right cheek with his wide palm. The corner of his mouth quirked up, and made the dimple in his left cheek peek out.

The sight made the zing zipped through her again. And no, she wasn’t imagining the feeling this time. The same nameless emotion that had been driving her berserk since puberty flashed in his hazel eyes.

He caressed her eyebrow with his thumb. Under the florescent light his caramel toned skin appeared flush.

This was it; he was finally going to kiss her.
Yes, yes, yes!

The smile spread, the damn brotherly smile, and the moment went poof.

“Your eyes are fine.”

He turned back to the cards, and her heart, like it always did after one of those zing moments, broke a little. She let out a frustrated breath. She had to stop doing this to herself.

Who was she kidding? This was maddening. Holding her breath for one of those moments to stretch and become more was pointless. They would never become more. Maybe, if she really wanted to delude herself she could add up those moments and hold them close.

And it still wouldn’t be enough. Morgan crossed her arms to stave off the cold creeping up her spine. “I think your Mom would like the one on the left. Twelve o’clock.”