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I grin right back at her pretty, glaring face. “I don’t know about any of that. But I know you’re not trying to kick me out after one fuck, Lemon. Because I’m planning on making you come at least two more times before I leave.”
“Really?” she asks, looking like she doesn’t believe me. I guess I’m going to need to show her.
“Really.” Pressing my hands on my hips, I jut them forward and show her my dick that is hardening as we speak, just from looking at her
Lily grabs a second glass from the cupboard next to the sink and then fills it with water. Without even looking back at me over her shoulder, she takes both glasses and stalks off towards her bedroom.
“Let’s go then, kid.”
chapter seven
lily
When I wake up, I feel more relaxed than I’ve felt in ages. Sunlight is streaming in the windows on the opposite wall and I can see dust specks glow in the light. The yellow cotton sheet and the blue and yellow patchwork quilt my grandma made for me are pulled tight around me, keeping me warm and cozy. I don’t want to get out of bed. I want to just stay in bed like this all day. But I need to get up and start my day. I have at least four deliveries to do. I’m house-sitting for the Rogers’ cats, so I need to check on them later today. And I need to deliver some lotions and body products to a couple of my regulars.
That’s what being a grown-up is. Getting up and taking care of shit when all I want to do is stay in bed. No one tells you how terrible being an adult is going to be. It should really come with a warning. When I move to throw my legs over the edge of the bed and sit up, something stops me. Why can’t I move? Wait, why am I right at the very edge of my queen size bed? Since it’s always just me in it, I usually sleep right in the middle.
But I’m right at the edge, nearly falling off. And I’m pinned. By two muscular arms wrapped around my chest. And a leg slung over mine.
Oh, my god. Oh, my god. I’m not alone in my bed.
Jameson freaking Waters is in my bed.
Last night comes flooding back to me in a rush of memories, making my cheeks red. The Goldrush. Jameson scaring off my TumbleWed date. Jameson flirting with me. Me flirting back. Jameson driving me home. Me opening the back door and letting him in. The kitchen. The bedroom.
Oh, my god. What have I done? I slept with a twenty-six-year-old last night. I slept with my best friend’s little brother.
And he’s still in my freaking bed!
“Jameson!” I slap at his arms to wake him up.
“Whuh? Huh? Whus wrong?” he mumbles, still more than half asleep. Asleep or not, he’s holding onto me tightly and not letting go.
“Jameson! Wake your ass up!”
I can’t sit up because he has me trapped in a cage of muscular arms, but I squirm and twist until I’m facing him.
His eyes are open, and he moves one of the arms wrapped around me to his face, rubbing over the stubble on his chin. “What the hell? I was having a pretty great dream.”
“Get up!”
He grins as I glare at him. “Want to know if you were in my dream?”
“No. I want you not to be here! You fell asleep. It’s light out. Someone’s going to see you!”
“So, what? We’re both consenting adults.”
Shaking my head, I push hard against his chest. He doesn’t move an inch. “I may have consented to last night. But I definitely didn’t consent to you still being here this morning. You can’t be here! Someone’s going to see you. You need to go. Right now!”
Picking up my pillow, I can’t decide if I want to smother him or myself. Why not both? With both hands, I smack the pillow down on his smug face.
“Hey, what the hell was that for?”
“For still being here!”
When he doesn’t make a move to get out of my bed, much less my house, I lay back and hold the pillow over my head. So much for adulting. I’m hiding under my pillow, wrapped up in a twenty-six-year-old’s arms.
After a minute, he pulls the edge of the pillow up a crack. “What are you doing under there?”
