No Weddings (No Weddings #1)(46)
Bending down, I buried my nose in the sweet tropical scent of her hair. “No, Hannah. It’s a wonderful thing.”
She pulled away and smiled at me, then leaned up on her toes, pressing her lips to my neck. “Good. I think I like being just a little bit bad.”
I groaned. “My sisters are a horrible influence.”
She laughed and turned around, pressing her ass into my groin, mimicking the movements she’d done with Kiki.
I sucked in a breath as she ground against my already hardening cock. Gripping her hips, I held her there, delivering back as much as she gave, no matter how much aching pressure hammered against the inside of my fly.
Her head dropped back against my chest, and she sighed, closing her eyes.
I swallowed hard, lowering my head down toward hers. “How long again do we have to wait?”
A smile lit her face, but she kept her eyes closed. “Third date. The musical rule.”
I growled low, drawn to Hannah in ways I’d never imagined. Pressing my lips along the side of her neck, I grumbled, “Damned musical rule.”
Sunday mornings were a favorite lazy ritual at my place. Mase always had Laura stay the night and well into the next day. Lately, Ben showed up about 10:30 a.m. with his new girl, Stacy. And, after another night of closing down the bar at 2:00 a.m. and stumbling into bed by 3:00 a.m., I stayed in bed until almost noon, waking to mouthwatering smells of coffee, bacon, and something cooked by one of them on the griddle. Smelled maybe like French toast this time.
I stretched as images from Friday night of a very sexy Hannah flooded into my mind. I’d dropped her off at her place early Saturday morning after closing down Loading Zone, then went home and crashed from exhaustion. And after a grueling Saturday night tending bar, with no Hannah there to brighten my mood, the idea of waking up with her became more than tempting. Too bad I couldn’t have talked her into staying the night this early in the game.
But Hannah wasn’t ready yet for a sleepover. The three-date rule proved that. And maybe I wasn’t quite all there yet either. We weren’t talking just sex here. She knew it. I knew it.
Slowly, steadily, we were getting used to the idea of taking the risk, of moving beyond our friendship, for the reward of something more. And for two people who’d been blindsided by love so horrifically, damaged almost beyond repair, the wait was necessary. The slow dance of ours had become much-needed therapy.
Grabbing another pillow, I groaned, shoving it over my face, thinking I deserved a medal of honor for what would go down in history books as legendary restraint. No, not a medal. Sainthood. You know, for the whole lack-of-sex part.
Not one logical part of me wanted anything to do with the sticky-note list of eight, however, my body begged to differ. I was used to getting sex. Often. Like four, five times a week.
Now, I’d been left to soaping myself up in the shower, thinking of Hannah. Which, I had no doubt, was nowhere near the same as Hannah in the flesh. Even so, that tattered list paled in comparison.
Unable to deny the aromas of breakfast any longer, I dragged my ass out of bed. After a few minutes in the bathroom, and the coldest water imaginable splashed on my face, I pulled some flannel pants on and stumbled into the kitchen.
Bright. It was very bright in the window-filled room. I squinted.
Four faces turned toward me and burst out laughing.
“Nice hair, Trollhead,” Mase mocked.
I shot my audience two stiff birds with a wide smile. “Good morning to you too.”
A muffin sailed through the air at my head, and I caught it. “Nice. Blueberry banana.” I stuck it on my plate and surveyed the spread. “Ha! French toast.” I shoveled the last of the still-warm food onto my plate.
“What’re you guys up to today?” I opened the fridge, grabbed the carton of orange juice, and poured it into a tall glass.
“We’re headed up to Central Park.” Mase tugged Laura onto his lap.
“Hey! I’m not done eating.” She reached for her fork, but Mase flipped it out of the way. He then proceeded to feed her by hand. With narrowed eyes, she ate from his fingers, sucking them clean while he groaned.
I chanced a seat by the other couple, the ones who didn’t look like they might bare all and f*ck right there in the chair in spite of the audience. Stacy was quiet, but intelligent. Ben had gone exclusive for her, which was quite the feat. But I’d caught her occasional looks at him when she thought no one was looking, and there was something wilder that sparked there.
“Want to come?” Ben leaned back, sliding his hand under the table toward Stacy.
“Nah. I’ve got a paper due tomorrow.” My phone started ringing from my bedroom. No one ever called me this early on a Sunday. Officially, I was still sleeping. I sighed and stared at my loaded plate.
Then suddenly, I realized who it might be. I raced to my room, made it to the phone, and pressed “answer” before it rolled over to voicemail. I grinned like an idiot when I saw the ID that’d flashed on the screen.
“Hannah.” I strolled back toward the kitchen. I didn’t give a flying f*ck whether or not it was rude to talk on the phone at the table. They had their girls, now I had mine.
“Hey, Cade.” Her voice was soft. Sleepy.
“You just wake up?” I sat down and folded half of a French toast slice covered in syrup and took a bite.