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“Huh?”
Brody links his fingers through mine. “We’re with each other every day. We sleep in the same bed every night unless you’re on shift at the hospital. I don’t see the point in paying two mortgages and I was hoping you’d feel the same.”
“Oh, wow. You want to live together?”
He smiles. “Honey, we’re already living together. We’re just doing it at two different apartments.”
True.
“So how would that work?”
“A few different ways.” He shrugs. “I could sell my place and move in here. You could sell this apartment and move into mine, or we could sell them both and buy something together. I’m open to whichever option you’d prefer.”
“I kind of like the idea of finding a new place together. Something that can be ours from the start.”
“I like that idea, too. Maybe we could even look at houses in the suburbs. Something with more bedrooms to fill with tiny humans down the road.”
“How awfully domesticated of you,” I joke.
Brody and I aren’t formally engaged or anything but it will happen one day—we’re not really in any rush. We talk about the future a lot and there’s no doubt we’ll be together.
He winks. “I’m a reformed man, baby.”
I pull him into a kiss. “Let’s give the realtor a call right after the holidays.”
He smiles. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, Brody. I’m all-in.”
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Keep reading for a preview to Deal Makers, Drew and Charlee’s story.
Deal Makers
(Uncorrected draft)
©2018 Lovestruck Publishing
CHARLEE
Why is my bra hanging off the lamp?
I stare at the lacy red garment in disbelief. That is not the lamp from my hotel room, which means I’m in some rando’s bed. A quick peek under the covers confirms that I am, in fact, naked as the day I was born. Also, a freakishly large hand is covering my right breast.
Why is a stranger pawing my boob?
I wiggle away from the offending hand as I try recalling the events from last night. Despite my best efforts, the only thing my brain will produce is a blur of shots lining a bar and...Lady Gaga? Goddamn, how much did I drink? My head feels like all seven dwarfs are tunneling through my skull. And my mouth tastes like ass. Not that I’ve ever tasted ass, but you know what I mean. Nausea rolls through me as I gather the courage to roll over and see what I’m dealing with here.
Oh.
Okay, ignoring the fact that I had sex with a complete stranger, maybe it’s not so bad. The mystery man’s face is buried beneath a fluffy white pillow but the parts that I can see are quite nice. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a guy with so little body fat in real life—his biceps are probably bigger than my freaking head. As I take in the thick tribal tattoo winding around his upper arm, I get a sudden flash of tracing that ink with soft kisses.
Whoa.
Continuing my perusal, little bits and pieces come back to me. This guy’s bronzed chest is ridiculously wide and his abs are chiseled all the way down to a very lickable V. I should know, because my tongue was all over it last night. My lips turn up in the corner when I see the beginnings of a neatly trimmed patch of hair. I’ve always appreciated a man that keeps up with his pube maintenance. Nobody wants to suck on hairy balls. Just sayin’.
In case you’re wondering, mystery man’s balls are smooth as a baby’s bottom.
