Pickup Lessons (Awkward Arrangements Book 3) Page 13

  “Oh my god, Dash.”

  “Quiet,” I growl against her clit.

  She whimpers and brings one hand to her mouth, holding it there as I bring her to the needy, trembling crest of her pleasure.

  “I’m going to come, I’m going to come,” she chants quietly. Then her legs stiffen again, and I continue relentlessly, licking her, sucking her, flicking my fingers in and out of her pussy until she shatters around my hand, squeezing me tight. Even stifled, her moans of pleasure ring loudly enough to get us caught. I’m too far gone for her to care.

  I rise from my knees as Eden drifts back to me with a satisfied smile etched on her lips. A beautiful flush decorates her cheeks, and her eyes gleam with happiness.

  “That was…” She waves her hands but doesn’t continue.

  “You run out of words?” I tease, tugging her dress back down her body.

  She giggles and rubs a hand over her face. “You stole them.”

  I grin and kiss her gently. “We gotta get back, angel,” I say, wishing for all the world we could stay right here.

  Eden’s smile transforms into a frown. “But you’re…”

  Hard enough to cause injury? Yeah.

  “I’ll be okay,” I say. I have to be because if we wait too much longer, Eden’s overprotective big brother’s going to come looking for us. “You leave first, okay?”

  She doesn’t look happy about it, but she straightens up in the mirror and then wiggles out the door. After a beat, I follow her. I hope to god I can keep a straight face when I sit down across from Titus.

  Otherwise, I might not get another chance.

  21

  Eden

  I love my big brother, but he can seriously be scary as shit.

  Dash pushed me out the bathroom door so quickly, I know the ghost of an orgasm still clings to my face. Flushed cheeks, bright eyes, shaky legs—everything feels like an admission as I drop onto the seat across from Titus.

  My brother narrows his eyes as he inspects me over the top of his phone. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah,” I squeak out.

  Everything’s more than okay.

  Whatever Dash and I started in the bathroom doesn’t feel like nearly enough, and I don’t know how the hell that happened. It’s like everything I’ve been trying to prove was wrong. Instead of showing him only my best self, Dash has seen the sides of me I don’t share with anyone else—Eden in pajamas and messy hair, Eden surrounded by broken glass, Eden as the reckless, giddy woman who rushed into his arms without measuring or pausing or thinking twice.

  Somehow my brother’s irreverent best friend has rocked my world and made me reconsider everything I thought I knew. But three words in that sentence make my heart seize in my chest—brother’s best friend. Dash and I haven’t talked about what’s happening between us, and I’m in no way ready to share it with Ti. But withholding information makes me feel like I’m violating a sibling code of honor.

  Titus seems to feel it, too. He frowns like he doesn’t believe my half-hearted response, and I swallow a sip of rosé to cover the awkward silence. My wine has warmed up in the time I’ve been gone, and it tastes wrong in my mouth.

  “What are you drinking tonight?” I prod, hoping Titus’ll stop being so goddamn reticent and talk.

  “Heart of Stone.”

  Sounds about right.

  “It’s a small-batch sour ale from Urban Family,” Dash supplies from over Titus’s shoulder.

  Titus makes room for him in the booth, and Dash slides onto the seat with a grin that sends a thrill through my chest. With satisfaction, I take in his disheveled shirt and messy hair, remembering how it felt to grip the back of his head as he fucked me with his tongue.

  Dammit.

  Just the memory of my orgasm deepens the ache inside me, making me so wet, I squirm. I press my legs together to dampen the feeling, to no avail. If I’m still this riled up and I’ve had at least some satisfaction, poor Dash must be dying over there.

  I want to take him home and put him out of his misery. I want him to fill me up until I can’t remember ever being empty.

  Suddenly, the crowded bar feels stifling. There are too many people and not enough Dash, even though he’s right here.

  “Hey, Ti,” I whisper with a frown. “I might have misled you before.” Dash’s face tightens like he thinks I’m going to spill our secret, and I shake my head to reassure him, even though he can’t possibly know that’s what I’m trying to do. “Cramps,” I blurt out. “I have cramps. I should go.”

  I swing my foot in Dash’s direction, hoping he’ll take the hint.

  “Ouch!” Titus bites out.

  Whoops.

  “Sorry, antsy legs,” I say. I realign my foot and this time connect with Dash.

  His eyes widen with realization. “I’ll take you,” he says. “I have to repay the favor from when you helped me the other night,” he adds for Titus’s benefit.

  Yes, please, give me all the favors.

  Titus groans. “You can’t be serious. At least stay and finish your drinks first.”

  “But—” I start.

  “Maybe it will help numb the pain,” Dash concedes, cutting a sideways glance at Titus.

  I’d prefer an orgasm, thank you very much. I hear they’re great for pain management. In fact, maybe I should make that hot tip into a blog post—top health benefits of a trip to O-town.

  Still, I read Dash’s message loud and clear.

  “Fine,” I say as sweetly as I can manage. I lift my glass and take a gulp. The faster I drink, the faster I leave, right?

  Unfortunately, while only an inch of rosé fills my cup, Dash’s mug holds almost the full pint.

  “I don’t know,” Dash says, after taking a sip. “This might be one of my favorites.”

  My brother nods. “Apricot and peach flavors. Pretty damn drinkable.”

  Here we go. Beer talk.

  With a sigh, I lean back against the booth and study the men across from me. “How many more beers are on your list?”

  Dash looks at Titus and grins. “Technically, none.”

  It takes a second for his words to sink in, and then I lean forward so quickly I almost spill the last sips of my wine. “Wait.” I dart my eyes between them, but they wear the same arrogant smirks. “You already finished all the varieties on Dash and Titus’s must-try Seattle beers list?”

  Dash quirks his lips. “Yes.”

  “But—” I gape at him, still confused. Wasn’t that the whole point of the last three months? “You kept going out and drinking.”

  Dash nods. “We had lots of reasons to go out.”

  My cheeks color as I think of the abandoned bet. The bet Dash and I still need to show results for in just a few short weeks. “When did you finish the list?”

  Titus shrugs. “A week or so ago. But if you want to get technical about it, new beers are being made all the time, so you could keep drinking indefinitely.”

  Dash’s warm eyes stay on mine as he agrees. “Why limit things if you’re having fun?”

  It feels like he’s talking about so much more than just a list of beers, and the question causes heat to bloom in my chest. I swallow hard and meet Dash’s gaze. “Maybe you don’t need to.” When I feel Titus’s scrutinizing glance, I force a smile and add, “I feel like I missed out on at least a good high-five moment, there.”

  My brother shakes his head. “It was a quiet victory. Not everything needs a giant celebration.” He looks pretty damn pleased with himself. “In fact, I like the idea of a goal you never meet. It’s about the journey.”

  I snort. “The beer-drinking journey.”

  “Don’t knock it, E.”

  I hold up my hands. “I’m not going to yuck on your yum,” I say. “But speaking of which, my drink’s empty. I’m gonna head out.”

  Dash rockets to his feet. “I’ll take you.”

  Titus groans but saves his protest for another night. “See you soon?” he calls after us.

>   “There’s always another beer to try,” Dash promises.

  Dash and I take separate cars to my apartment, and fifteen minutes later, I pull open my front door to find him standing in the cold, blowing into his hands to warm them.

  “Hey,” I say, relieved that he’s the only one on my doorstep. For a solid two minutes, I was convinced Titus planned to follow us home.

  Maybe I’m just paranoid now, or maybe that’s guilt clawing at my stomach.

  Dash’s mouth lands on mine like a greeting, friendly and comfortable and thrilling at the same time.

  “You taste like beer,” I grin against his lips.

  “Notes of apricot and peach,” he reminds me before gently scoring his teeth along my neck. When he reaches the spot under my ear that makes my knees weak, I have to grip his biceps to keep myself upright.

  “Dash…” I whimper.

  He rewards me with another sweep of lips over my skin. “Another sound like that, and we might not make it inside,” he promises.

  “Mmm,” I murmur.

  Something warm and soft brushes against my ankles, yanking me back to my senses. I break away to yelp, “Di!” and grab my cat before she makes a sneaky escape past our feet.

  Dash flashes me a wicked smirk. “Wouldn’t want her to run away forever.”

  “You didn’t,” I pout, clutching my cat against my chest. Princess Diana’s fur tickles my face, and when I wiggle my nose, she turns her blue eyes to mine with a mewl. “Don’t let the mean man make jokes at your expense,” I tell her.

  “You can’t blame me,” Dash protests. “You practically set that one up for me.”

  Laughing, I step back inside and hold the door open for Dash to follow, not setting the cat on her feet until he firmly latches the door behind him.

  When Princess Diana slinks away, Dash kicks off his shoes. Instead of leaving them by the front door, he carries them gingerly to the kitchen and arranges them on a square of paper towel on top of the counter.

  “Is it me, or have you turned paranoid?” I muse, following him to the kitchen.

  Dash wraps his hands around my waist and pulls me close. “I can’t afford a new pair of shoes every time I come over.”

  “Plan to be here often?” I ask, my voice small and breakable.

  God, I want him to say yes.

  We haven’t talked about what this is, but it has to be big enough to be worth the guilt. Because Titus…one way or another, this is going to hurt him when he finds out.

  Suddenly, the reality of tonight rushes in. “Is this what we do now?” I blurt out before Dash has a chance to answer. “Sneak around?”

  “From Titus?” he asks.

  I nod, my chest tight and my palms clammy. “From Titus. From Matt. How monumentally stupid are we being right now?”

  His mouth flattens, and frustration ripples over his normally placid face. “Angel, I spent years of my life waiting for you. I don’t want anything in my way.”

  “I know, Dash. But just because you don’t want to face it doesn’t mean it isn’t there.”

  “Eden.” He gently brushes his thumb over the bow of my lips, and my pussy clenches. “I promise we’ll take care of things. We’ll make things right. But right now, the only thing this is hurting is my body when it’s not touching you.”

  I nod because he’s right. I ache for him and can’t imagine tonight ending any other way than with him in my bed.

  Dash brings his hand to the base of my head, cupping it gently as I whimper with need and step flush against his chest. He kisses me to the point of delirium, until my body yields and my mouth feels swollen and well-used.

  Then I tug him gently, walking him backward toward my bedroom, my mouth on his every step of the way. We land on my bed in a tangle of limbs and hot, pulsing need.

  “To answer your question,” Dash says, peeling my clothes from my body and flicking his tongue over a bare nipple. “I plan to be here as much as I goddamn can.”

  “Yes,” I gasp as pleasure spirals in my core.

  I tug a hand through Dash’s hair and hold his gaze, catching him in this intimate moment, just us in the world. I want to tell him how much he’s starting to mean to me. How even though I hate lying, I’d hate being without him more. But then, because nothing good can stay, Princess Diana rushes in with a hiss.

  “Not tonight, Princess,” Dash warns. He levers off of the bed to sweep my cat into his arms, place her outside the bedroom, and then swing the door shut.

  “But—” I say. Princess Diana yowls from outside.

  Dash advances with heat and promise crackling in his gaze. “No interruptions,” he says, dropping to his knees and running a hand along my thigh. “Tonight it’s only us.”

  22

  Dash

  Warmth spreads across my side, coaxing me awake on Sunday morning with the promise of more one-on-one time with Eden.

  “Mmm, you feel good,” I murmur with my eyes still closed. The heat of morning sunlight pools on Eden’s bed, and the memory of last night tugs a smile to my face. I’m half asleep but happy to stay right here in this lazy, perfect moment.

  I roll over to drape my arm across Eden’s body, but instead of a rewarding snuggle and smooth skin, my hand brushes against a lumpy, vibrating ball of fur.

  What the fuck?

  My eyes snap open just as Princess Diana raises her purr to a warning growl, the sound tumbling through her body and her blue eyes narrowing to slits. Not at all the pussy I’d hoped to wake up to.

  “Shit!” I flail back, half expecting the damn cat to claw at me for violating the sanctity of her owner’s bed, or something equally righteous. Instead of reaching safety, my body lurches to the dangerous precipice of the mattress, and I have to grab the comforter to stop myself from falling off the edge.

  Once again, what the fuck?

  My quick scan of the room fails to produce the woman I went to bed with, and for a half a second, my lungs squeeze too tight to breathe as I wonder if I misread our situation. Last night everything seemed to be going well—the stolen kisses, the heat-drenched sex, the way Eden ran a palm over the center of my chest afterward and asked me to stay. But my old doubts rise like a storm and threaten to overwhelm me.

  I know she felt guilty about Titus—what if she changed her mind about us?

  “Do you know where Eden is?” I ask the cat as I slide out of bed and throw on my jeans.

  Princess Diana regards me with a disdainful look, then yowls louder. But then, somewhere below the DEFCON 3 threat of the pissed feline’s vocal protestations, I make out the sound of a clacking keyboard.

  Relief washes through me, and I eye the cat with a frown. “This conversation never happened, okay?”

  The cat flicks her tail and turns her back on me, curling up smack in the middle of the bed. I can’t tell if it’s a sign of her victory or if we’ve established a truce. All I know is I was definitely cuddling with Eden’s cat. I have a feeling the cat comes out ahead on that one.

  With one last glance at the sleeping terrorist, I stalk out of the room to find my girl.

  The rich, soothing scent of coffee greets me as I push out the bedroom door. Eden sits at the tiny desk on the far side of her living room, and though her back is turned to me, between the coffee and the sight of her, I can finally breathe again.

  Eden wears her hair up in a sexy, messy bun and has headphones perched on her ears. She jumps when I touch her shoulder.

  “Shit!” she yelps and presses a hand to her heart.

  “Sorry,” I say, unsure if she can hear me.

  “No, it’s okay.” Eden slides off her headphones and sets them beside her laptop. Then she turns her pretty brown eyes on me, and the world tilts a little. “Just working on the blog.”

  “Writing or…?”

  She grins. “Actually, I’m writing a fashion blog post about bras that help you look and feel your best. I think I’m gonna call it ‘Beautiful Foundations.’”

  “Bras, huh?” If t
hey’re anything like the bras she’s been wearing lately, consider me a fan.

  “Yep. And since you’re here, you can help.”

  I cock my head to the side and study her eager eyes. “How’s that?”

  “Well, normally I hire a photographer for my fashion shoots, but since this one’s a little more intimate, I was just going to use a self-timer.” Her eyes brighten. “But you can shoot for me.”

  At the words, my shoulders go tense. “Wait. You’re putting pictures of yourself wearing the bras online?”

  “Yep.” She continues undeterred, not noticing my frown. “This one is sponsored content, too, so I get paid for something I would have shared anyway.”

  A protective feeling climbs into my chest, deepening at the thought of anyone else getting to see her the way I do. “I’ve never seen bras on your blog before.”

  She raises a shoulder. “It’s something new. But totally worth writing about. I mean, bras are your boobs’ best friend.” She pauses as she studies my face. “The photography’s easy, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ll set the camera on auto for you, so all you have to do is push the button.”

  I shake my head and force myself to grit out, “It’s not that.”

  Her mouth pinches as she starts to understand. “You don’t like the idea?”

  “It’s just…”

  Her face softens. “Me in the bras?” she guesses.

  “I don’t love it,” I admit. “If you were just taking pictures of the bras, who cares. But you in them? I don’t want to…”

  Share.

  It’s the thing I had to do at the start of this bet, but ever since she first climbed into my lap and pressed her lips to mine, I’ve wanted her to be all mine. It killed me to see her with other guys even when we weren’t together, and now that we are? No.

  I let my feelings go unspoken because Eden’s lips start to tremble. “Dash, I made a commitment. I always stay true to my word.”